Judas' Passion

There he was, frozen in time, an endless torment. He could not; it would not leave his memory. Everywhere he looked, there he was: shattered, broken, beaten beyond recognition. To make things even worse, that was just last night. Today’s events were far more horrific. He watched.

And he did nothing. He could do nothing. It was all his fault. Why didn’t he do what he was supposed to do? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be different. Things were so different just a month ago. Everything was within their grasp. All his desires, all his dreams were coming true. The final judgment was finally at hand, yet only this nightmare materialized. He ignored it, knew that despite all his lost sleep and frightful screaming, that this nightmare could not happen. He was a fool. Why would every dream come true except that which he had more than any other, the one that most terrified him?

It all seemed like a blur. As he stumbled through the streets, everything seemed to be in motion. The last twenty hours were burned onto his retinas. Like a panorama, he could see it all. It covered up everything else in the world. It was worse than going blind.

He could see the soldiers drag him through the streets, waving their torches, kicking him. They brought him to the high priest’s house, throwing him at the steps leading to Annas’ door. He heard the running behind him. The screaming. It would not end. The women clawed at the gate. They wanted in. They screamed, “He’s innocent! Why are you doing this? Let me wipe his face. Please sir, just let us in.” Then one, single voice stood out. His heart snapped. He could barely stand.

“My son is in there. May I see him? He needs me.”

He watched in awe as the guards moved to open the gate. Captivated by the power and conviction in her prayer, they could not help but obey. The quick intervention of a nearby priest prevented the gate from actually opening. He berated the guards then turned towards the women. He could not hold their gaze. His eyes shot down to the ground. He managed, “I’m…I’m sorry. We can’t let you in. His crimes are very serious. You must understand this. I’m sorry, please, please stop.”

She continued her finely tuned gaze. Through the guards and the priest, she could see her son inside, could feel him through the stone walls. His power, once radiating through the city, now rescinded into this one building, yet hers was building momentum, focused into a fine beam, aimed at only one person.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He burst into the building. Annas looked up. Angry and bitter, hatred seemed to radiate off his robes. “What are you doing here? You’ve already been paid.” The high priest turned his attention to Caiaphas. “Summon the Sanhedrin.” He pointed at the crumpled corpse of a man on the ground. “And get that, that pathetic thing out of my house. You did get the witnesses I ask for…”

Caiaphas bowed his head. “Yes Rabbi, and I have already called the others. They will meet us at the council chambers at day break. We haven’t much time to get there.” He turned to the head guard. “Have your men clean our messiah up. We can’t have the king of kings bleeding on our council floor. And give him some food and drink too. This will be a long day for all of us.”

The guards pushed past Judas and picked up the body, carrying him to the wash basin. Judas stood there and watched them dress the wounds they themselves inflicted just a short time ago. Someone brought up some moldy bread from the pantry and a cup of stale water. They stuffed the bread into his hands and forced the cup to his lips in between bites. They actually looked like they enjoyed having this much power over a celebrity. They relished in their new found power.

They tore off his blood soaked robes and brought him a new set. After dressing him and evaluating their work on his face and hands, they threw him on the back of a wagon and carried him away to the council chambers.

Judas blinked his eyes, forcing himself to wake from this nightmare, but he would not wake up. Instead, he followed the wagon through the streets, joining with a small crowd of nosy servants, led by a pair of lower priests. He turned around at the sound of a commotion behind him. There he saw Simon shaking his head and yelling at one of the woman servants, tearing his arm away from another’s grasp. A cock crowed in the distance. Judas turned his head to the east to see a very dark, blood red sun. Fighting back a sudden sickness, he turned back around to see Simon on his knees with his face in his hands, crying.

The small entourage ended their journey at the council chambers, next to the second temple. The guards grabbed Joshua off the wagon and pushed him through the chamber doors. Judas forced his way in, standing back along one of the walls.

He watched as they paraded one witness after another in front of the priests and rabbis. Each spouted their twisted versions of Joshua’s miracles and messages. However, not one could look him in his eyes when they gave their testimony. Thieves and prostitutes, those he claimed to have come for, now turned against him for a quick meal.

Caiaphas stood after the last witness left. He spoke to the others, “As you can see, this man stands accused of teaching blasphemy. He associates himself with sinners and Samaritans. He agitates crowds and calls for social anarchy. This Nazarene even challenges our authority as spiritual heads of our people. He is more dangerous than the Zealot terrorists. Allowed to continue, the Romans will move against us and strip what little power we have left.”

One of the priests called out, “What would you have us do Caiaphas? This man seems no more important than past false prophets. His followers have already fled. He’s finished.”

Caiaphas answered, “This may be so, but we need to make an example of this one. Each of these prophets gains more popularity each time another new one comes out. How much longer before the Romans take matters into their own hands, huh? How much longer before the Romans decide they no longer need our counsel and dissolve us? They have already taken our king and replaced it with a prelate. What’s next, I ask. Will they tear down our temple and replace it with a pagan idol? My friends, our existence as a people is at stake.”

One of the elder priests stood and faced the council. He looked over each of the other members. Quiet spread through the chambers at the respect this man commanded. His eyes stopped on Annas and closed into slits. He finally spoke, though directed at Annas and Caiaphas, he addressed them all, “Brothers, listen to yourselves. Has our great council degraded itself to political squabbles? The Sanhedrin does not speak for the Jewish people or the Romans. Or our individual ambitions.” He aimed this last statement at Annas.

He continued, “No, Brothers, we speak to God. Accusing innocent men of imagined atrocities, both past and future, is beneath us. Worrying about what the Romans will do to our people, pointless. Our Lord above will provide. He has guided us in the past. Just as patience and prayer saved us from the Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians, and Greeks, we will prevail against our current occupiers. Let us not join our lost brothers from the Diaspora. Let wisdom, not greed, guide our judgment today.”

Annas started to laugh. “You are a fool, Thomas. If we were to listen to you, there will be none of our people left to spread into the winds. The Romans would kill us all. This agitator is all but innocent. He will be our doom. I have seen it. Caiaphas, go ahead, show them what I mean.”

Caiaphas walked up to Joshua. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Joshua just stared back.

Angered, Caiaphas balled his fists and then allowed himself to relax. “You see his contempt for our order?” He turned again to Joshua and commanded, “I order you to tell us, under oath before the living God, whether you are the Messiah, the Son of God.”

Joshua replied, “It is you who say I am. But I tell you: ‘From now on you will see “the Son of Man seated at the right hand of the Power” and “coming on the clouds of heaven.””’

Caiaphas’ face burned with hatred. “He blasphemes! We have no further need of witnesses!”

The room burst into a flurry of commotion and shouting. Most shouted, “He needs to be taught a lesson! Stone him!” However, a few voices, soon joined by many more until it consumed the room, shouted, “This man must die!”

Annas allowed the conflagration to grow before finally standing and waving his hands as if to put out a fire. When the commotion died to dull roar, he spoke, “Brothers, it is obvious this man must die. Yet, he cannot die at our hands. We need the support of the commoners. No, the blood should be on Roman hands. A grand execution. That is the only way we can ensure this never happens again. Let us take him to Pilate.”

The council once again erupted into shouts and screams. This time, they yelled, “Crucify him!” Caiaphas motioned to the guards to take Joshua away.

Judas felt sick. This wasn’t right at all. Images burned into his retinas came back into focus. Pictures of guards slapping his friend and spitting on him flashed in front of him. Why didn’t he strike them down?

He remembered waiting in front of the Prelate’s court. How they carried him from Pilate’s to Herod’s Jerusalem palace and back again. He overheard servants’ and soldiers’ comments on what happened at each location. He heard about how Joshua refused to defend himself in front of Pilate, which only angered the Roman, who sent him to Herod.

Herod humiliated him in front of his court. While he respected and admired John, he had nothing but contempt for Joshua. At least John limited his rhetoric to moral obligations. This latest agitator openly declared himself the messiah, a position denied Herod by the Romans. Having this power over Joshua pleased Herod. He wanted to see this usurper destroyed, and so he sent Joshua back to Pilate to face his end.

Judas was surprised by Pilate’s completely different view. He knew this Jesus was nothing more than a harmless rabbi who thought himself more powerful than he could possibly prove. He spoke of great power, yet wielded none of it. Roman justice tore at Pilate. Everything in him told him this man was innocent, but in the end, he could not afford a riot among the people. Rome was already upset with him. Too many legions in Palestine. They were needed to defend against the German barbarians and troublesome Persians. In the end he left it up to the people.

Judas watched in horror as Joshua was brought out into the square. They tied Joshua’s hands to a tree. Two men, one on each side of him, proceeded to whip him. Each snap left 9 more marks on his back. The screams were unbearable. They reverberated against the buildings surrounding the plaza. Yet it wasn’t Joshua’s that were most disturbing.

At each crack of the whip, his mother cried out. Her wailing became such a distraction, the soldiers were ordered to remove her. However a combination of the other wailing women blocking the soldiers and John’s calming touch on the mother helped to change the soldiers’ minds.

Pilate’s face reflected all this when he stood above the crowd. He knew the crowd could turn very dangerous very quickly. He eyed the temple’s men moving through the crowd, chanting, “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” and “There is only one true God!”

Pilate spoke above the crowd through his speaker servant, “I understand that another Jewish high holiday approaches. Though I might not understand its meaning, I will acknowledge its importance. I have decided to release a political prisoner. Will it be Jesus your king or Barabbas the terrorist this year?” He spat out Barabbas’ name.

Judas was surprised they were offering Barabbas. The Romans hated him and wanted him dead. They must be looking for any excuse to release Joshua. This was the break Judas was looking for. Maybe, just maybe, Joshua could still be freed. He started putting together his apology. Of course he’d expect to be cast out as one of the Twelve, but at least his friend would live.

However, this was not a wishful dream, but a horrible nightmare. Judas watched in horror as the crowd began to chant Barabbas’ name. The fervor was complete. Pilate, visibly shaken, turned to the head palace guard and yelled something at him. The guard ran into the palace. Pilate yelled back at the crowd, “So be it! I wash my hands of this mess. His death will be on your hands!”

The crowd started cheering. Shouts of “Crucify Him!” interspersed the cheering. The Romans moved quickly to clear the parade route and prepare the prisoners. They knew they did not have much time before sunset. Agitated by silly local customs, they took out their frustrations on the only one within reach, poor Joshua.

This scene refused to even fade a little. How they tore off Joshua’s clothes in front of everybody. They draped a purple cloth over his broken, naked, bleeding body. They placed a crown of thorns on his head. Joshua stood there; a horrific irony surrounded him, for this was the closest to the messianic magnificence Judas had envisioned.

He ran from that place.

The images continued to cycle through his eyes as he stumbled away from there. He made it to the temple. He did not know how he got there. He broke open the doors and forced his way past the guards to stand before Annas and Caiaphas conferring with a handful of priests about the Passover preparations. He could barely see them through the searing tears and burned images in his eyes.

He pulled out the bag of money given to him a couple days ago by the same men and said, “Take this back!”
Caiaphas answered, “Don’t be a fool. Keep the money and get out of here. You’re defiling the temple.”

Judas yelled back, “It wasn’t my fault! It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He was supposed to reach his glory here. He was supposed to save us all. You destroyed him. You killed him! This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Annas looked amused, “No, he killed himself. He’s no messiah. We are God’s instruments. He shouldn’t have challenged us. Now take your money and leave.”

“But I was sure he was the messiah…”

Caiaphas said, “No, he wasn’t. And you helped us prove it. Thank you Judas. You have helped save Israel. Go home.”

Judas could not see the priests staring at him. Instead he could only see his friend, dressed in a purple robe and a crown of thorns holding out his arms to him. Judas yelled out, “No! No! I killed you! I’m such a fool. You saw it all along.” He dropped the pouch and ran out of the temple.

As he ran, thoughts ran through his head: “How could you forgive me? You can’t. This is unforgivable. I failed you. You knew all along, didn’t you? You knew I would be weak, that I would fail you.”

He reached a field with a lone tree. With tears streaming down his face, he undid his belt and fashioned a noose. He attached this to a branch at the edge of his reach. He climbed up the tree, slipping the noose over his neck.

“I don’t deserve to live. I can’t live. I’m already dead. I’ve been so blind Lord. I don’t know what else to do…”

Looking out, he caught one more glimpse of his master, this time in his full magnificence. He was beautiful, yet very sad. He looked to be mourning a friend, one lost to his own grief. Judas’ blindness was lifted. For an instant, he knew he could be forgiven. Instead, he was greeted by darkness. He had already released himself from the tree. He thought he heard a faint whisper in the distance before he completely faded into darkness, “Oh Judas, what have you done? Didn’t you know that I will always love you? I will pray for your soul, my friend…”