I read threw the gospel of Mathew the other day and again it struck me how odd it is that we have made Judas into this horrible man. If you look carefully Peter and the other disciples betrayed Jesus in even bigger ways than what Judas did.
Judas actually regretted what he did and went back to the religious leaders with his money. In other words he withdrew his testimony about Jesus. If things had been done according to the book the accusations against Jesus should have been delayed and withdrawn.
This was not done,so the wrong was in the end not Judas fault but the religious leaders! Peters betrayal was on the same level as Judas betrayal too..
I read a fictional story about Judas which touched me when i first read it in Time magazine 1999. Click to read the story about Judas and Jesus!
BY REYNOLDS PRICE
Judas and Jesus
Judas lasted on, entirely alone, through the Sabbath night and day after Jesus’ death. He’d stood on the ground not 10 yards from the cross and heard his teacher’s astounding final words–”My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” And he’d stayed for Jesus’ final hoarse shout a moment later. Then Judas had found his way to the house of another old pupil, one whom Jesus had been forced to send home when he caught him tampering with children for the second time–Hamer from Bethlehem.
Hamer had taken up his old life as a plasterer, and he lived with his toothless mother and a wife who loathed Judas the moment she knew he came from the old days–Hamer’s wild days with Jesus, not so long ago, maybe 16 months. Hamer shut her up fast, and she cooked them a decent meal. Afterward Hamer took Judas out to the edge of the village, a plateau aimed at the distant Dead Sea. He said to Judas, “You know Jesus told me, early on, that he was born here–it’s David’s town, remember? Said he was born in one of the caves right down here below us.”
Judas said, “He told people lots of things, Hamer.”
Hamer stood in silence for so long Judas was aching with the bitterness of what he’d accomplished. Then Hamer stepped back a long four strides and stared at Judas the best he could in the slim starshine. Finally he said, “I know he told me you’d be the death of him.”
Judas said, “Me? You’re lying to me.” He’d already established that Hamer knew nothing of Jesus’ arrest and speedy death, and Judas hadn’t told him.
Hamer said, “When he told me I’d have to leave, I fell down and begged him for a scrap of forgiveness, and he said, ‘Oh, son, I forgive you surely–I’ve forgiven Judas this far in advance. But you can’t work with me after today; the millstone of what you’ve done is around your neck, and the two of us are helpless to move it.’”
Judas said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He had no reason to forgive me, ever.”
Hamer said, “That may be; I’m just telling you my memory.” With that he turned back slowly home.
Judas followed him, for lack of anywhere else to go. He lay down just inside Hamer’s door with the chill spring air all down his legs, but he slept no more than a few brief spasms of sweet shallow dreaming and a few high yips at the ends of nightmares.
The yips would wake Hamer, and he’d say, “You’re safe. Now go on and sleep.”
But at the excruciating instant of dawn, when he heard Hamer’s wife say “No” but yield all the same to Hamer’s body and start breathing fast, Judas rose in deep silence, tied on his sandals and left for good. He knew his destination.
Where Hamer had told him Jesus was born, there’d been a dead tree–a bare black snag above the cave. Judas had gripped it, even then, and chinned himself once; it was still firmly anchored. So just as the sun broke free of the hills and swept the fringes of Bethlehem, Judas Iscariot reached the tree again.
He’d grabbed a stout piece of rope from Hamer’s, and he set straight to work. Throwing the rope up and over the strong limb, he started trying to recall the right knot–he mustn’t fail at this too.
But with all his years of studying scripture, he’d lost the knotting skills of his childhood on his father’s scratch farm (Judas was the only one of the Twelve from outside the fishing villages of
Maybe five minutes passed–he was sweating anyhow–when a man’s voice spoke from close behind him. “Need any help?”
Judas lurched around, thinking the voice was too familiar. But the face was indescribably changed; Jesus’ old fire and wit were gone. This man looked not remotely childish but utterly new, just born at sunrise, this April Sunday. So Judas said, “All the help I need–thanks anyhow–would be for you to leave.”
The man almost seemed to leave for a moment; his image faded on Judas’ eyes. Then he was back and stronger still. His face had the calm that Judas had spent a whole life hunting. The man nudged Judas lightly aside, then reached up and tied the appropriate knot.
Judas somehow watched the man’s broad hands and still didn’t notice.
But when the man finished, he raised both hands toward Judas and said, “Jude, go to your father now; he’ll need you for the planting. The others won’t harm you; I’ll warn them off.” The man’s upright hands were pierced with deep wounds, just below the palms.
Judas’ mind clenched down to the size of a pebble in his skull. But still he studied the new face for any further sign that this was Jesus, keeping his promise.
The strange head began to nod, signing Yes, and slowly a kind of mist around the eyes began clearing. Finally the voice said, “I’ve come to you first.”
Judas never thought of fleeing. The one choice left apparently was to beg his teacher’s pardon and then use the rope. So he asked the final question of all: “You’re Jesus, aren’t you?”
The head nodded Yes, though the eyes and mouth were entirely calm.
Judas said, “If you pardon me, help me leave then.” He reached up and seized the rope in both hands. He’d need to climb the tree to make it work.
The man said, “I’ll lift you.” He did that with no strain at all, and he stood in reach of Judas’ arms till the last breath failed, but Judas never once reached toward him.
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