[AI translation] Dear brothers and sisters, in today's sermon I want to talk about another prodigal son. Yes, a prodigal son who never came home. Because Judas is the sad type of a man who really wasted everything. Not just his whole life, but more than that. He wasted the greatest of all: God's forgiving love and grace. He began as an apostle and, lo and behold, he ended as a suicide. It's a mystery what happened here. Why did he do what he did, why did he betray Jesus? What happened to him in death? Was he damned in the end? Who can say? Volumes have been written about the Judas problem. Many have tried to unravel this psychological mystery, but no one has really succeeded. Let me announce in advance that I will not even try to find a solution. I do not want to add yet another theory to the many theories on this subject, but simply to draw the lessons that are relevant to us and to present a warning from this dark history.Yes, brothers and sisters, this sad and dark story reveals, above all, the horror of sin. That is, what a terrible thing sin is. I say that it is revealed because, unfortunately, one does not see it in advance, but only afterwards, when it is too late. Judas, too, realises afterwards what a terrible thing he had done when he betrayed Jesus. The story begins. What a terrible tragedy! Oh, but many a reckless kiss has had tragic consequences!
Behold, Jesus was condemned. His fate is sealed. He must die. And it is at this moment that Judas sees his sin in all its unmasking. For when he committed it, he did not see it. Now he sees it, but now it is too late. For, brethren, sin, when it comes to its fullness, when it stands before man with its unveiled consequences, somehow presents a very different picture than before, when it was only a temptation, a temptation, hovering before man's eyes, or even when he committed it. Then, when the desire, the evil desire, the sinful thought matures and becomes a deed, then the mask of sin falls away, and then it stands before us in all its horror and awfulness. O that man could foresee the consequences of the evil he does! If he could foresee this consummation of his own sin, he might not commit it. Or, at least, he would think very hard, if he could foresee, for example, how much pain an offensive word would cause, and what burning wounds would be inflicted on a soul. Or if one could foresee the scandal that can arise from a thoughtless misstep. If he could foresee how much mischief an unclean move can do. Or what a small action, not quite right, could become, he might never have said the word, never have made the move, never have made the gesture. If one could foresee that the same sin which at first so greatly entices one will afterwards plunge one into such a terrible abyss; if one could foresee that the same sin which at first seemed so beautiful can afterwards become so terrible, and which promised so much pleasure will cause so much pain, then perhaps one would never commit that sin. But the very curse of sin is that it stupefies. And in this stupor, man fails to see the true essence of sin, fails to see its horror. In fact, he often sees it as almost desirable. And it is only when it has happened, and when its irredeemable consequences have already accused him cruelly and horribly, that his eyes are opened to the true essence of sin. And then the thought comes into one's soul: alas, what have I done?! Oh, that I had never committed it! And Judas, "seeing then" that Jesus was condemned... So "seeing". And the sight was so terrible that it made him despair. Judas despaired at the sight of his own sin. Oh, what a wretched man is he who is so deceived by sin! Observe how little Judas profited by what he did, and how shortly he enjoyed it. At the moment when he had the thirty pieces of silver counted out in his hand one after another, and the bag full of the long-coveted money in his hand, and could stuff it into one of his pockets, there might have been a gleam of pleasure in those dark eyes. Perhaps then a little feeling of goodness might have wafted through his soul: oh, it's good to be rich! But soon afterwards, when he saw what had happened, what the consequences of that sin had been, then oh, how that money began to burn his pockets and his hands and his heart! Oh, how filthy he became all at once. Oh, how good it would have been to get rid of it, but now he throws it away in vain, even to the high priests who gave it to him, they don't want it any more...
But it is a terrible thing when something can no longer be undone! You can't make it undone. Such is the awfulness of sin, of all sin: it simply cannot be undone by reparation, by repentance, or by any other human power or might. It cannot be thrown away by man like a piece of dirt. Sin can only be forgiven by the free grace of God.
But this story shows not only the awfulness of sin, but also the power of a resurrected conscience. For in this expression, "repented of his deed", there is the awakening of his conscience. Brothers and sisters, conscience is something quite wonderful: that quiet, accusing, condemning voice that God has obviously created in us. It never leaves you, it cannot be escaped, it is the thing that you can least escape from when you most want to. Who does not know this tormenting state of mind, which we call remorse? Maybe you've mistreated someone who's dead or gone. Or maybe you're haunted by the memory of an old, secret sin. Maybe it's a very, very old fetal homicide. No one blames you, no one knows, and yet some dark, menacing shadow haunts you. It's no use trying to calm yourself, no use trying to trivialize it. Something keeps gnawing and gnawing inside. Neither yourself nor anyone else can talk you out of it. Yes, conscience is the shadow of the sin committed. And just as we cannot get rid of our shadow, we cannot get rid of our conscience. It is the very fact of conscience that shows more than anything else that in us human beings the God-consciousness is an ineradicable reality and a powerful feeling that overcomes all others. For conscience is precisely the knowledge that I am never alone, that someone sees everything, that someone knows everything. Even what only I know and no one else knows. Someone knows it with me and will one day hold me accountable, because he has the right and the power to do so. That judging, accusing voice can sometimes be silenced. Sometimes it can be silenced altogether. But only for a short time, only to be attacked later with all the more agonizing force. And then what a conscience, roused from its sleep, can do to a man is almost unbearable!
Conscience drives a man into physical and mental torment, into the halls of hell, into the shadows of "weeping and gnashing of teeth": some into sleepless nights of torment, others into days of crying, others into despair, or into the locked ward of the Field of Lipót, Judas, behold, into suicide. For man, whether he wants it or not, is made for harmonious communion with God. And man cannot endure long in conflict with God. The sin that separates you from God will sooner or later take its revenge. Conscience is the revenge of sin. You cannot escape it. Poor Judas is already living hell in his soul. Because what is hell? The agonizing feeling that the consuming fire of repentance can no longer be extinguished by anything. The terrible inner weeping, in which the grip of sin is no longer released. So the knowledge that I can no longer cry for mercy, because it is too late! The knowledge that my sin remains within me, that I can no longer release it from me. This is hell. Yet Judas confesses it, honestly, openly, honestly stands before the chief priests and cries out to them, "I have sinned by betraying the innocent blood!" So he does not pass his sin on to someone else. He does not look for excuses, explanations, blame or accusations. He takes the full weight of the blame. I have sinned! - he cries out in despair. Brothers and sisters, this would be the point where the repentant sinner would be the closest to help. Grace, forgiveness - God. Oh, if a believing brother had been there then, and had taken Judas by the hand and said: Come, come Judas, my brother, come, let us tell God! Let us kneel down before him! Let us confess everything to him and beg for mercy! - everything could have turned out differently. But they weren't brothers there, they were accomplices. There they were accomplices, and they cynically cry out to him, "What is it to us? You see." Because accomplices, accomplices, buddies, always leave the person they have led into sin alone. They don't care about the person in trouble afterwards.
So Judas is left all alone, and such loneliness is very bad advice. If Judas had not cried out this agonizing repentance in the unfeeling ears of the chief priests, but had told it to the one against whom he had sinned; if he had not only seen the hell burning in his heart, but had brought that hellish heart before the One who has never turned away a repentant man, nor ever said to any one: What is it to me, you see! If Judas had not only said, "innocent blood," but had fled under the protection of that innocent blood; if he had not only thrown his dirty money before the chief priests, but had brought his dirty soul before the only High Priest, Jesus, who had just made an atoning sacrifice for sinners, even for traitors, on Calvary - everything might have been different. But you see, brothers and sisters, this is Judas' greatest sin. It is not that he betrayed his Master, we do that every day, more than Judas. Judas' greatest sin is that he did not find a place of repentance. It is not being able to believe in the greatness of Jesus' forgiving love for sin. That is the greatest sin: when someone considers God's forgiving grace for the merits of Jesus so small that they think their sin does not fit into that grace. This is the greatest sin.
And then Judas wants to escape despair by the final act of despair. He ties a rope around his neck and hangs himself. What a terrible self-deception, brothers and sisters, to think that life can be thrown away from us. Well, you can't! If death were the end of life, then there would still be some sense in suicide. But death is not the end of life! Death is a transition to another form of life. It is a form of direct, face to face vision, a step before the Living God, so life goes on! What a self-deception to think that one can escape the judgment of God, which is burning inside one's conscience, by dying. For beyond death there is all eternity. Man cannot escape and escape either from himself or from God, because beyond death I remain myself and God remains God. Where can one hide from the gaze of the Almighty? So it is not a solution at all to run away from one's problems, from one's sins, from one's shaken conscience, from the ruins of one's broken life, from God, to death - and even to increase the problem with it!
Is there no solution at all for the desperate man? But there is. Is there anywhere to escape from God? It is possible. The only escape from God is to God. There is no escape from a justly judging God except to the Savior God known in Jesus. From the smiting hand of God, one can only flee to His arms as a father in Jesus, and even a Judas can flee to that. And the way to escape is to tell God everything. All that he has hidden, all that he has concealed, all that has made him an enemy of God. But can I tell God everything I have hidden from Him? It's wonderful to be away. For, brethren, let us note that if we open any sin to Him in true repentance, we can at that very moment acknowledge that the ugly, dirty thing has been covered up, covered over by the "innocent blood". And the debt that hell has weighed down on us has already been forgiven, because someone paid it for them there on Calvary. What was done cannot be undone, only forgiven - and that is what God does. That is how He takes the burden of our sins off us.
So this is how we can flee from God to God, but only to God. And only there can our conscience be at rest, and only there can our flight become a happy homecoming. With Jesus there is a solution, for there is forgiveness for the soul that is in the most terrible depths. With Jesus there is forgiveness for all who cry out in repentance: I have sinned!, not to the world, not to the air, but to Jesus, and in doing so looks up in faith to Calvary.
Let me end with what I said last time: if you forget everything I have said in this class, do not forget this one thing, remember this one thing: the only refuge from God is to God, to Jesus! And if anyone has already gone there, let him sing it with courage, even from the most desperate depths, together with the psalmist:
My soul, why art thou discouraged:
Why dost thou mourn so?
Trust in God, and he will not forsake you,
In whom I rejoice at last.
Who seemeth to me
He gives me a kind release,
He will show me manifestly,
That he alone is my God.
With Psalm 42:7, let us all happily confess it.
Amen.
Date: 24 March 1968.