It’s always a little jarring to realize that the Wednesday before Pascha (the Greek—and Aramaic—word for Passover) has a nickname: Spy Wednesday. The “spy,” of course, is Judas. Today is the day the Gospels say he went out in secret and made his deal, thirty pieces of silver, and the promise to betray Jesus quietly, away from the crowds. It’s a strange shadow to fall over Holy Week, especially when so much of the Church’s life today is about healing.
In many Orthodox parishes, Holy Wednesday is the day of Holy Unction, a sacrament of anointing and healing. The words echo from James: “Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord” (James 5:14). People come forward for the oil, drawn by hope for physical and spiritual healing. It’s a sacrament that runs deep, a reminder that Christ comes to us not only in the big, clean moments, but in our weakness, our pain, and even our betrayals.
Which brings us back to Judas. It’s easy to read the Gospel and shake our heads. How could someone so close to Jesus turn against him for a bag of coins? But the truth is, the line between Judas and the rest of us is paper-thin. We sell Jesus out for less than thirty pieces of silver all the time: a little pride, a grudge, comfort, distraction, the need to be right. Sometimes, it’s not even about money or power, just the desire to keep things easy. Every time we put our own wants over God’s love, we’re echoing that same old bargain.
And yet, tonight, some churches offer us oil and prayer, an antidote to all the small betrayals we carry and commit. The Gospel readings for Holy Unction are full of stories where people fall short: the sinful woman anointing Jesus’ feet, the paralytic who needs to be carried, and Peter’s mother-in-law, sick in bed. In each case, Jesus doesn’t turn away. He stretches out his hand, offers forgiveness, and makes whole what is broken. The oil of Unction isn’t magic; it’s a sign that Christ still meets us where we are, with healing that goes deeper than we know.
So maybe Holy Wednesday isn’t just about the betrayal, it’s about the possibility of coming clean. It’s about the hope that, even when we’ve sold him out, Jesus still wants to heal us. Thirty pieces of silver or not, he keeps reaching for us, right in the middle of our worst moments, with mercy strong enough to turn even betrayal into the chance for new life.
We love you all
Randy and Susan
