"Personality of the Passion -- Judas"

Background:
The next “personality” that appears in Mark’s Passion of Jesus is Judas (Mark 14:10-11). Only two verses are dedicated to him here, but he also appears again at the Last Supper (Mark 14:18) and in the Garden when Judas betrays Jesus (Mark 14:43-46).
Matthew’s gospel has a more detailed treatment of Judas, portraying him as a willing to barter for the betrayal and then later “seized with remorse” returning the money and hanging himself.
Luke’s mention of Jesus is more brief, like that of Mark and the Gospel writer, John, only mentions Judas as being present to betray Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane.

In order to tell Judas’ story, I’m using the vehicle of his recently and fictionally discovered “Last Will and Testament.”

TO WHOM IT MAY ONE DAY CONCERN:

The Last Thoughts of Judas Iscariot, forever known as “The Betrayer”:
Friday of the Passover, 33 a.d.

It is evident to me now that I will always be the “bad guy”. There will be people who are called “Judas” – with a sneer of derision. But “Judas” will never become a popular name for little boys. In fact, it is a certainty that no one will ever name their son “Judas”.

In self defense, I have to clarify some things.

Jesus trusted me enough to call me as a disciple. Maybe he was trying to make the point that everyone, no matter what the sin, is acceptable to God. Maybe he was just trying to round out the twelve with someone from “the south” – Iscariot refers to the town I grew up in Kerioth Hezron, about 30 miles south of Jerusalem. Never-the-less, Jesus saw something in me and had enough faith in me to call me as a disciple.

The disciples trusted me too. They trusted me enough to be in charge of the money bags, to be the treasurer, if you will, of this little band of disciples. I was good at that job. I watched things closely. And it really bugged me when I saw waste, like the waste I saw when Mary so extravagantly emptied that jar of nard over Jesus’ head. We could have used that money and it just went to waste. I was always accused of “greed.” But it was never really “greed”. I just liked to handle money, even though I kept the purse strings pretty tight and that’s what looked like “greed”.

As for my betrayal, I wasn’t the only one. In the end, everyone, and I mean everyone, abandoned Jesus. They all deserted him. Even Peter who said he’d never leave Jesus’ side. Even John, the disciple Jesus loved. Even James, who got to be with Jesus during some of the most important events in Jesus life, left his side. Yes, I’m a bit bitter that I didn’t get to travel to the Mount of Transfiguration and see Moses and Elijah in person. I hold a grudge that I was never among his favorites. But in the end, they all abandoned him, just like I did. At one level, I am not any different than any of them. In fact, as scary as it might be for you, I’m probably not even a lot different than you, dear reader. Yet, forever, I will take the whole rap as “betrayer.”

Now, that being clear, it doesn’t excuse the fact that I sold Jesus out – in fact, I sold him out for the price of a common slave – 30 pieces of silver.

I don’t know why I did that. I’ll never know why I did that. There simply isn’t any explanation. But I want to be clear I didn’t “hate” Jesus. I never “hated” anyone, except now … I hate myself for what happened.

It was clear to me that Jesus knew that I would betray him. His words at our “Last Supper” were pointed and clear. They made me squirm. But what happened, happened because of my own choices, my own decisions. I never want anyone to think that what I did was somehow predestined.

You know, part of what happened was this. I was among the disciples, but I never really had a relationship with Jesus. Peter could call him “Lord.” But I could never use any other form of address than “Rabbi” even last night when I met him in the garden. I could never understand how some of the disciples, or even demons, called him “Lord” when he didn’t act like a “Lord”, one with light and power, one who could use his position to his advantage. I could only see him as “Rabbi”, and when I introduced him to the guards, I kissed him. I used the kind of kiss that was used as a customary greeting from a disciple to their rabbi.

Along the way, I got frustrated, I guess. I was looking for the kingdom, like everyone was. But it sure looked like Jesus had it wrong. I didn’t have any confidence of this strategy of non-violence. A kingdom, after all, is brought in with power. Jesus wasn’t using any of his supernatural powers, those used to cast out demons and raise the dead, and bring sight to the blind … Jesus wasn’t using any of those powers to inaugurate the kingdom that he kept talking about.

I just couldn’t make any sense out of it. It looked like he was helpless. He kept acting more like a servant than a “Lord.” So, because it was so obvious that the religious elite were trying to find a way to arrest Jesus, I just decided to help things along. So I went and volunteered. It was my own choice, remember. And when they offered to pay the price of a slave, it just seemed right. He was acting like a slave anyway. So I sold him out. And I accompanied these same religious elite to the garden and tipped them off to who Jesus was with my kiss.

Now it is happening. Just like Jesus said. He is condemned as an innocent man. He is going to die unfairly as a common criminal. And I, I Judas, have committed a grave sin. I have aided and abetted the death of the one who is a new kind of king, even in his impending death. I am party to the death of an innocent man, one who, as I can see now, is the Son of God.

Oh my. I am so sorry. I am so sinful. I have to go and give that money back. Even then, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to live with myself. I am so sorry. I’ve got to, I’ve got to … well, I’ve got to get outta here.

I’m so sorry.

Lord, have mercy.

s// Judas Iscariot