27 Early in the morning, all the chief priests and the elders of the people made their plans how to have Jesus executed. ² So they bound him, led him away and handed him over to Pilate the governor.

³ When Judas, who had betrayed him, saw that Jesus was condemned, he was seized with remorse and returned the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. ⁴ “I have sinned,” he said, “for I have betrayed innocent blood.”

“What is that to us?” they replied. “That’s your responsibility.”

⁵ So Judas threw the money into the temple and left. Then he went away and hanged himself.

⁶ The chief priests picked up the coins and said, “It is against the law to put this into the treasury, since it is blood money.” ⁷ So they decided to use the money to buy the potter’s field as a burial place for foreigners. ⁸ That is why it has been called the Field of Blood to this day. ⁹ Then what was spoken by Jeremiah the prophet was fulfilled: “They took the thirty pieces of silver, the price set on him by the people of Israel, ¹⁰ and they used them to buy the potter’s field, as the Lord commanded me.”

Dear God, it’s interesting that this story of Judas’ “remorse” immediately follows Peter’s story of remorse. Maybe the distance between the highest-ranking apostle and the most despicable disciple is razor thin. Maybe even the “best” of us are closer to the “worst” of us than we think.

We have patients here at the Center who frustrate us because we can tell they are “drug seekers” and they can try to manipulate us to give them more pills. So we deny their requests and make our judgments about them. But then I read a story today about a famous man who died recently. He was an outwardly professing lover of you. He was your servant. Yet, his autopsy showed that he died from an accidental overdose of anxiety medication and alcohol. He, apparently, was an alcoholic and struggled to manage this part of his life. No different, really, from the people who try to manipulate us for more meds. Perhaps more polished and subtle, but no different.

Father, I have the same struggles in my life. No, mine don’t involve alcohol or pills, but I can’t fool myself—and I certainly can’t fool you. You know my depravity. My challenge is to remember that I am no better than the patient who frustrates me. I am no better than my neighbor because, like Peter and Judas, weeping together, but separately, on the same night, my soul needs a savior just as much as theirs does.