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What about Judas?

Don Petker

At the Last Supper, Jesus predicted that one of the disciples would betray Him. It was Judas, who, with feigned innocence, asked “Is it I, Lord?” Whenever I read that story, my skin crawls with disbelief at the man’s gall. My blood boils at the arrogance and contempt with which Judas treated my Lord. My (pacifist) fists clench as I consider the depths to which he stooped for a few pieces of silver. What a creep! What a low-life scum!

I don’t like Judas. He’s one of the bad guys in the Bible. In fact, he’s one of the worst. He was a traitor. It was his fault that Jesus died. He was a counterfeit – he pretended to be a friend, he played along as one of the good guys, a disciple no less, and then, when it mattered most, he sold Jesus out to the highest bidder. To top it all off, he didn’t even stick around to face the music. He took the cowardly way out by taking his own life.

No, I don’t like Judas. His very name has become synonymous with treachery and betrayal. We gladly name our sons after the other disciples. Peter, John, James, Andrew and Matthew are favourites, used generation after generation. We like Thomas and Phillip, and maybe even Bartholomew or Thaddeus if we run out of names before we run out of sons. But never Judas. No self-respecting parents would ever think of naming their son Judas.

You see, except for Judas, the Easter story would be perfect. Even so, it’s the greatest story ever told. It is a story with an awesome plot and a hero who wins in the end despite all the odds. It is the ultimate happy ending. The hero comes back to life, and the villain dies. It is a drama, a thriller and a love story all rolled into one. It has all the makings of a bestseller – and, in fact, it is. It is a story worth celebrating, and we celebrate it every year. It is a story worth remembering, and we do so whenever we take part in communion. It is a story worth preaching, and every Sunday in countless churches around the world the story is told and retold because it is the story of Jesus. It is a story we love to tell – except for one part, the part where Jesus is betrayed by one of His own. If only Judas wasn’t part of the story. But he is.

Why Judas? The story already has enough villains. There are those stubborn Pharisees, who couldn’t see past the law to the Lawgiver. There is the high priest, who knew the Scriptures so well that he didn’t recognize the Author. There is Pilate, who recognized Innocence as it stood before him but condemned Jesus anyway to save face. There is the mob, the people who cheered the Messiah’s arrival and then jeered His departure. But mobs are fickle, politicians are expected to protect their own hides, and religious leaders often know the letter of the law better than the spirit of the law – so we nod in understanding at these villains.

But what about Judas? Judas gives us a lot of trouble. If it wasn’t for him, the story would be perfect. He was one of the good guys. Why did he have to be the traitor at the centre of the story? Judas was one of the chosen twelve, that inner circle of disciples hand-picked by Jesus. Judas had the trust of Jesus and his fellow disciples to the point where they allowed him to look after the group’s paltry finances. Judas heard all the teaching and witnessed the miracles firsthand. He lived and walked and talked and ate with Jesus, the Son of God. Of all men, few could be so privileged. After all that, only one man could be so wretched as to betray Jesus. Right? I wonder. I wonder if we really understand Judas.

We know so little about Judas. It seems the Gospel writers deliberately ignored him as much as possible in their accounts of Jesus’ ministry. He consistently shows up last in the lists of disciples – almost as if they had to include him even though they didn’t want to. Often they add the phrase “who betrayed our Lord”. Who can blame them? Treason is a high crime anywhere, and in most cultures suicide is the only honourable way out. That was Judas – thief, traitor and taker of his own life. Good riddance, we say. He got what he deserved. Let him burn in hell. Forget about him. The story turned out well despite his treachery. There is nothing more to be learned from this scoundrel. Or is there?

I wonder about Judas. What were his motives? What was he thinking? Was he greedy? Perhaps. He knew Jesus could do amazing miracles. Was it disappointment that Jesus refused to turn stones into bread on command that prompted Judas to betray Him? Or was it disillusionment because Jesus seemed to speak against riches at every turn? Is that why he sold out his friend? Were 30 pieces of silver really worth the hassle?

I wonder about Judas. Was his crime so much worse than those of the other disciples’? Sure, he betrayed Jesus. But Peter denied ever knowing Jesus – and added some curses to emphasize his point. The other disciples deserted Jesus as soon as the soldiers appeared. None of them dared testify on His behalf in court. Thomas steadfastly refused to believe the resurrection until he could see and touch Jesus for himself. Liars, cowards and doubters the whole lot of them. Was Judas really any worse than his fellow disciples?

I also wonder about Judas’s fate. Was his the unpardonable sin? If so, which of his sins was the worst? Pilfering the Master’s money? Betraying his Lord for a few measly pieces of silver? Taking his own life when he saw the gravity of his actions? Was the remorse which drove him to take his own life the shame of his treachery laid bare, or was it the contrition of a humble sinner? Did Jesus’ words on the cross apply to Judas as well – “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing”?

I wonder what went through Judas’s head at the Last Supper. What tormented thoughts went through his mind as Jesus washed his feet? How his blood must have run cold when Jesus predicted his impending betrayal. Imagine the embarrassment and shame of being handed that sop – that moment when he realized that Jesus knew. What went through his mind as he slipped into the blackness of the night, turning his back, literally, on his friends? I wonder how heavy that little pouch of silver coins was as he made his way to the high priest.

What did Judas hope to gain from his treachery? Perhaps we find a clue in his name. Not in “Judas”, for in that day Judas was an honourable name. What about “Iscariot”? What might that mean? Two possibilities emerge. It could mean that Judas came from Kerioth, a small town near the Moab border. If so, “Iscariot” tells us little about the man. There is, however, another possibility. “Iscariot” may also mean “one of the sicarii”. The sicarii were fanatical Jewish nationalists who hated the Romans and murdered them whenever possible. Furthermore, they would kill any Jew whom they saw as lukewarm to the cause of Jewish nationalism.

Judas the sicarius raises some interesting ideas. No doubt, Judas saw in Jesus a leader with charisma and power. The possibilities for a new Jewish state, with a powerful leader who could heal the sick, feed the masses and overthrow the hated Romans, must have been very appealing. Judas liked what he saw, except for one small problem. The kingdom that Jesus promoted bore little or no similarity to Judas’s dreams. This was a kingdom where love, not hate, was primary, especially love for one’s enemies. Love the Romans? Not Judas. This was a kingdom, not of military might, but of spiritual power. Jesus’ kingdom was one where the meek would inherit the earth. No self-respecting sicarius would have any part of such a wimpy kingdom.

Perhaps Judas was disappointed with Jesus and finally, in a fit of desperation, betrayed Him. Perhaps he ran out of patience and just wanted this lukewarm imposter out of the way. But I’m not sure that explains his remorse. Instead, I wonder if Judas was trying to help Jesus, to force Him into a situation where He would have to defend Himself, where He would have to put on a dazzling display of power and usher in the new kingdom. I think Judas was impatient. He was trying to move the agenda along a little faster. Too late, he realized that the agendas were different. Jesus had an agenda that Judas couldn’t understand. The agony of that realization was more than he could take.

I wonder about Judas. Was his betrayal simply turning Jesus over to the high priest? Or was it the fact that he tried to make Jesus what he wanted Him to be instead of submitting to Jesus and letting Jesus make him what Jesus wanted him to be? Was he trying to fit Jesus into his mould, rather than allowing Jesus to mould him? If so, that puts his betrayal into a different light – a light that shines very close to home. Is that not the basic problem that each of us struggles with? Is that not the primary cause for so many of our frustrations? We set our agendas and ask Jesus to come along, to bless our efforts, to do what we can’t, to bail us out of difficulties and to build the kingdom the way we think it should be built.

There are times when we just don’t like the fact that Jesus is Lord. We want to make Him something else. We want to remake Him into our image of a king. It’s not that we don’t love Jesus; it’s just that we love ourselves more. We feel that if Jesus would just do it our way, we could serve Him so much better. We want to follow Him, we want to serve Him, but we want to do it on our terms.

Judas tried that, and we call him a traitor.

I wonder why I dislike Judas so. I wonder if it is because I am much more like Judas than I care to admit. I’m thankful that Judas is part of the Easter story because he shows me in dramatic fashion what betrayal really looks like. It’s not the kiss in the garden or the 30 pieces of silver or the suicide in despair. It’s wanting things my way, not Jesus’ way. That’s how I betray Jesus. I wonder about Judas, and I ask, “Is it I, Lord?”

Don Petker is pastor of Selkirk (Man.) Community Church.

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Last modified March 30, 2001.

© 2001 Mennonite Brethren Herald.
Published by the Canadian Conference of MB Churches.
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