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Chapter Twenty

Judas Iscariot

As we returned to the main road on the outskirts of town, we were in high spirits. Simon and I were discussing what we had seen and everyone was talking at the same time, then, suddenly, a warm breeze stirred up the dust, as it had when Jesus confronted Barabbas and then that mob. Looking ahead at the road, we saw another rippling silhouette in the afternoon sun. Because of the bend in the highway to avoid a foothill, the shadow stretched forward, the sun at its back. Considering what we had experienced, it seemed symbolic to us. Once again, it appeared as though something evil was coming our way. Almost total silence fell over the group. I heard a collective gasp. Only John could find his voice. “It’s back, isn’t it?” he muttered, with wide, unblinking eye.

Placing his hand over his brow to shield his eyes from the sun, Jesus said nothing. It was perfectly obvious, at least to me, that this was important to him. He looked back at us but remained silent. Looking back, I know that God’s words had filled his head. As I reflect on that moment, Jesus must have been conflicted. There was, I know now, as do all members of the Way, good reason for him to dread this encounter, even more than Satan’s appearance. He exhaled deeply, as it approached, and shook his head. A look of grim resolve was on his face. As the shadow grew larger and larger, murmurs of fear and anxiety erupted among the disciples. When the stranger was close enough to discern, he stopped and called out to Jesus, “I’ve been looking for you, master. I was told by a traveler that you were heading south. Now your heading north, and we cross paths!”

With the edge of the foothill at his back and walking due south, the setting sun was no longer at his back. The dark specter we imagined to be Satan again or one of his minions was replaced by a man, grinning and waving to us as he spoke. What we saw was a red-haired fellow with a neatly trimmed beard and fine clothes, who seemed totally out of place on the dusty road and in our midst. Not only did he seem out of place here, but in all of Judea and Galilee red-haired people were a rarity, especially ones with freckles and piercing green eyes. It seemed as though his unwavering gaze, when it locked on you, was genuine warmth. I noticed this when he singled me out. Each one of us, even before introductions were made, were studied by this man, especially Jesus who reached out to grasp his hand.

“I’m Judas Iscariot,” he said with a bow. “I’ve heard there’s bandit in these parts. May I travel with you for awhile.”

“Don’t worry about bandits,” piped John. “Jesus frightened Barabbas away!”

“He did more than that!” Matthew exclaimed. “He scared the Devil off.” “Just like that!” He snapped his fingers.

Jesus scowled at him, as if to say, “Please shut up!”, but Andrew and Philip added their eyewitness accounts, ignoring his silent plea.

“My-my, that’s impressive,” Judas laughed heartily at their reports. “I’ve heard of his powers. A traveler I met told me he raised a child from the dead.” “Is that true?” He looked searchingly at Jesus.

“You have said it,” Jesus gave his enigmatic reply.

Turning politely, he introduced each one of us. Judas appeared a bit odd, but we couldn’t help being impressed with his appearance and manners. No one knew what he would do in the future. How could we? Jesus was acting on continuing revelations. He couldn’t explain this yet to us or to himself. For now, even he seemed enchanted with the young man’s buoyant mood. Perhaps, I wonder now, he might have hoped this wasn’t the one who would betray him in order to fulfill prophecy. There was nothing in Judas’ manner that seemed evil. And yet, of all the things that threatened Jesus, including Satan, itself, Jude was the most dangerous.

From the beginning as he tagged along with us, not even officially a disciple, he wormed his way into our affection and almost became Jesus’ favorite. Unlike times before, Jesus was in a hurry to put Judea behind us. Except for the shepherd Tobin, Bethlehem was a great failure, but, as he reassured us, everything was part of God’s plan. After a much swifter journey to Galilee, in which we got to know Judas, it seemed clear he was here to stay. When we were about a Roman mile from Capernaum, Judas insisted on being baptized into the Way, something ironically few of us had undergone. There was a spring bubbling out of a large misshapen rock. Saying the words graciously, then splashing water on Judas’ head, Jesus heaved sigh, as if he wasn’t sure of Judas’ conviction. The young man gave Jesus a perfunctory embrace, then shouted to us, as if we were many cubits away, “Whoa, I’m saved. I have eternal life!”

“I don’t trust him!” James whispered to me.

“Really?” I replied discreetly. “You think he’s a spy?”

“I dunno,” he murmured. “I can’t put it into words. It’s just a feeling, like you have before a storm.”

Our exchange of doubt wasn’t shared by the others. Judas was friendly and affable, and what’s more, he carried a purse of money he offered to share for our travels. Peter, Andrew, Philip, John and his brother, Matthew, and Bartholomew found Judas a little too talkative, but a likeable sort. Even Simon, who had been a spy himself, had no qualms with him. In good humor the disciples welcomed the new member of the Way, patting his back and shaking his hand, in a more affable way than their reception of Matthew, Thomas, and Simon. I gave him a quick handshake to congratulate the new member, which seemed adequate, considering what James had said. When James shared his doubt with Jesus, though, Jesus waved him off, saying sharply, “Judas has a purpose like all my disciples. He’s one of us!”

When the other disciples heard of this they were as shocked as James and I. It was one thing welcoming him into the Way; it was quite another making him a disciple. Suddenly, the good humor Jesus expected the disciples to show converts, vanished almost entirely. It now seemed to the fishermen that Jesus would pick just any one who came along. When they were conveniently separated from Jesus and the new members in our group, James, Matthew, Simon, Bartholomew, and I perked up our ears to hear their complaints, while Judas appeared oblivious to their complaints. Ticking it off on his fingers, James, John’s sullen brother, summarized Jesus choices:

“First he adopts Mary Magdalene, a prostitute, then he makes Matthew, a publican, who bleeds his people. Then Thomas, a peculiar sort, who continually questions everything Jesus does. Though he seems addled in the head, he’s now a disciple, constantly jabbering about everything he sees. When he picked Simon, who admitted he was a temple spy, I thought that was a new low. Now, out of nowhere, someone we thought was an evil spirit, arrives on the scene, and suddenly he’s a disciple, making our number twelve, which Jesus had planned all along. I don’t trust that man. Like Thomas, he talks way too much. He’s much too friendly. Where, in the middle of nowhere, did Judas come from?”

“That’s a good question,” Peter seemed to agree. “He doesn’t seem to fit either and he’s dressed like a Judean dandy. However, my brothers, Jesus has accepted Judas. You all liked him until he was made a disciple. Now you’re turning against him. Let’s give him a chance.”

“I dunno, Peter.” Andrew shrugged. “Jesus’ selection does seem strange. With all the educated men in high standing, he picked us, a bunch of backwoods fisherman. I think it was appropriate that he picked his brothers, James and Jude, but Matthew and Simon were agents of the Romans and Temple, and Thomas does, as John believes, appear addled in the head. Now, like a desert phantom, a red-headed man in fine clothes conveniently appears and he’s picked too!”

“Yes,” Philip sight, “and now that there’s twelve, the matters settled. Simon was, until his conversion, a spy. What if Judas is a spy too.”

“That ridiculous,” John shook his head. “He doesn’t strike me as a spy. Judas is annoying more than anything. He stares at everyone. I’ve never seen him blink. He gets right in your face when he’s talking.

“That’s true.” Philip nodded. “And he smells as if he’s wearing perfume—like a Syrian whore.”

“That’s enough!” Peter held up his hand. “We all have our differences. You mustn’t judge Judas by how he looks or how he talks. I repeat, Andrew, Philip, James, and John: let’s give him a chance!

“Well,” Simon whispered bitterly, “it’s nice to know what they think of me!”

“Yeah,” Bartholomew said glumly, “what’s wrong with redheads. I had red hair until it turned gray.”

“Don’t feel bad,” I consoled them, “at first they resented James and me, too. They thought Jesus showed us favoritism at times.” “I can understand their concerns,” I patted Simon’s shoulder. “After all, you were, in fact, a temple spy. Time heals everything, my father always said. That’ll also be true for Matthew, Thomas, and Judas. James and I were spooked by his sudden appearance, but, if you think about it Simon, you suddenly appeared on the water’s edge. For Jesus sake, if nothing else, I want to give his twelfth disciple a chance.”

“I’m sorry.” James muttered to me. “I don’t trust him… Another adage our father taught us is, ‘time will tell!’”

“I also have very good hearing!” Judas called to James.

******

Judas, who walked behind Bartholomew’ cart with his hands folded methodically behind his back, had said nothing throughout our objections and the fishermen’s more distant complaints nor had Jesus, who was off somewhere praying or getting guidance from God, reappeared and scolded us for our doubts. Not understanding Judas’ frame of mind then, I wondered if his silence and pose were a sign of humility and tolerance. As I looked back and studied him a moment he seemed wrapped his thoughts, a smile playing on his lips. In spite of my own misgivings about him, I shared the other men’s gullibility and found it difficult not to like this young man. Only James remained fixed on his first impression. For him, as it would one day become apparent to Jesus’ disciples and the future of the Way, Judas arrived like an ill-wind. To this day there is some argument that he was not a man at all, but a minion of Satan and even the shape-shifting Devil, itself. Our first impressions were overshadowed by the personality of Judas, which didn’t seem threatening or ominous in the least bit. Now, we know, as in the case of Satan, that something evil had come our way.

Jesus had been gentle with us so far. He had been patient with our doubts and fears. He had allowed us to be critical of his motives and was usually patient with the intolerance in our ranks. Today, there was determination in his blue eyes, as we moved quickly back to Capernaum. I sensed, and I’m James also felt, a resolve in our brother that would make him less amenable to his disciples’ idiosyncrasies and personal faults. New chapters, in which Jesus would harvest, by a huge margin the greatest number of souls; in which his twelve disciples would go out on their own to spread the word; and in which his full identity would finally become known, waited for us at Capernaum, our home base. All thoughts of Judas and his peculiarities would be put aside for the time being, with the arrival of great crowds who came from all corners of Palestine to see Jesus’ wonders and hear him speak.

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