‘That upper spirit
Who hath worst punishment,’ so spake my guide
‘Is Judas, he that hath his head within
And plies the feet without.’ -From Dante’s Inferno, canto 34, lines 55-59
He’s a crucial character in probably the most well-known story in the world. In Sunday school we learn that Judas betrays Jesus to the Stasi, or whatever, in exchange for 30 pieces of silver. A man’s greed precipitates the death of God’s corporeal embodiment of love and forgiveness. He is the undisputed villain.
There is, of course, an interesting theological question as to the eternal fate of Judas. Judas’ betrayal was arguably a necessary component of the Christ-saga. If Jesus would not be crucified, then he could not be resurrected. “And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith” (1 Cor. 15:14, NIV). Did Judas choose to betray Christ of his own free will? If God needed Jesus to be betrayed, and assigned Judas to the task, then how is it fair that he is condemned? Many of the faith’s great thinkers wrestled with this, particularly during and after the Reformation. Erasmus, Luther, and Calvin all opined on the matter. Even atheist (“speaking popularly”) philosopher Bertrand Russell looked at the dilemma.
Our best myths and fables are ones that can be told to children and provide a straightforward lesson for them, all the while hiding a message for the adults. Take the boy who cried wolf. Even young children will heed its warnings about telling lies. The boy lied and bad things happened to him, think the kids. What the adults are meant to understand–but many never will–is that the village was at fault. They sent a boy to a man’s job, and lied when they said they would help him. They abandoned him in his hour of need, and their apathy destroyed them all. The boy was the scapegoat. Nobody wanted to guard the village; it would be too much work. So they picked a stooge whom they knew, deep down, would not be up for the task. Because when the boy failed, as he inevitably would, it would not be their fault. “It’s always the children’s’ fault, isn’t it?”
The story of Judas and Jesus works this way too.* That it is treated as historical, well, gospel is a lamentable failure for the culture. It need not have actually happened to have value as a story, and a story it is. We can watch it evolve in the Bible itself. That we don’t see it as evolution is because we have been conditioned over the last 19 centuries that the whole Bible is telling the exact same history, not a compendium of stories. But that’s what it is. Read the Bible chronologically, and separate out the story book by book.
The earliest books of the New Testament are those of the apostle Paul, written in the 40’s or 50’s AD. Paul never mentions Judas, or a betrayal of Jesus by an apostle. “For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread,” (1 Cor 11:26). That’s as much as we get from Paul on the set-up for Jesus’ conviction. Because we all know the story from the Gospels that Judas was the betrayer, we interpolate it in our minds as being corroborated by Paul. But it is not.
The earliest Gospel is that attributed to Mark (the gospels are all composed by anonymous authors), written in the 70’s AD. Here Judas is identified as the one who betrayed Jesus both in his introduction in the list of apostles (Mark 3:19). In Mark 14:10, we are informed of his plot, which occurs while Jesus and his disciples are in Bethany, two days before Passover: “Then Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went to the chief priests to betray Jesus to them. 11 They were delighted to hear this and promised to give him money. So he watched for an opportunity to hand him over.” Later, in verse 43, his act concludes after the Passover supper as they relax in Gethsemane: “Just as he was speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, appeared. With him was a crowd armed with swords and clubs, sent from the chief priests, the teachers of the law, and the elders. 44 Now the betrayer had arranged a signal with them: “The one I kiss is the man; arrest him and lead him away under guard.” 45 Going at once to Jesus, Judas said, “Rabbi!” and kissed him. 46 The men seized Jesus and arrested him.” End the Marcan account of Judas.
The Gospel attributed to Matthew, written after and based heavily on Mark in the 80’s or 90’s adds some more meat to the story. He is introduced in the same way as in Mark (Mat 10:4) In Mat. 26:14, his retelling of Jesus in Bethany, we get: “Then one of the Twelve—the one called Judas Iscariot—went to the chief priests 15 and asked, “What are you willing to give me if I deliver him over to you?” So they counted out for him thirty pieces of silver. 16 From then on Judas watched for an opportunity to hand him over.” Passover dinner gets a little juicier too, in verse 20: “When evening came, Jesus was reclining at the table with the Twelve. 21 And while they were eating, he said, ‘Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me.’ 22 They were very sad and began to say to him one after the other, ‘Surely you don’t mean me, Lord?’ 23 Jesus replied, ‘The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me. 24 The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him. But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man! It would be better for him if he had not been born.’ 25 Then Judas, the one who would betray him, said, ‘Surely you don’t mean me, Rabbi?’ Jesus answered, ‘You have said so.'” Apparently this gave none of the other disciples cause for alarm…. Later, at Gethsemane, in verse 47: “While he was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived. With him was a large crowd armed with swords and clubs, sent from the chief priests and the elders of the people. 48 Now the betrayer had arranged a signal with them: ‘The one I kiss is the man; arrest him.’ 49 Going at once to Jesus, Judas said, ‘Greetings, Rabbi!’ and kissed him. 50 Jesus replied, ‘Do what you came for, friend.'” But Matthew gives us some resolution to the character of Judas in 27:3, “When Judas, who had betrayed him, saw that Jesus was condemned, he was seized with remorse and returned the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. 4 ‘I have sinned,’ he said, ‘for I have betrayed innocent blood.’ ‘What is that to us?’ they replied. ‘That’s your responsibility.’ 5 So Judas threw the money into the temple and left. Then he went away and hanged himself. 6 The chief priests picked up the coins and said, ‘It is against the law to put this into the treasury, since it is blood money.’ 7 So they decided to use the money to buy the potter’s field as a burial place for foreigners.”
The author of the Gospel of Luke “omits” the mention of a stopover in Bethany, establishing the betrayal as being conjured when Passover was “approaching”, in 22:3, “Then Satan entered Judas, called Iscariot, one of the Twelve. 4 And Judas went to the chief priests and the officers of the temple guard and discussed with them how he might betray Jesus. 5 They were delighted and agreed to give him money. 6 He consented, and watched for an opportunity to hand Jesus over to them when no crowd was present.” Neither does the Lucan author include an awkward dinner exchange between Jesus and Judas. Later, in Gethsemane, there is the final exchange in verse 47: “While he was still speaking a crowd came up, and the man who was called Judas, one of the Twelve, was leading them. He approached Jesus to kiss him, 48 but Jesus asked him, ‘Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?'” The author doesn’t conclude the story of Judas in the Gospel, but instead waits until the opening chapter of his Acts of the Apostles, composed in the 90’s or later: “15 In those days Peter stood up among the believers (a group numbering about a hundred and twenty) 16 and said, ‘Brothers and sisters, the Scripture had to be fulfilled in which the Holy Spirit spoke long ago through David concerning Judas, who served as guide for those who arrested Jesus. 17 He was one of our number and shared in our ministry.’ 18 (With the payment he received for his wickedness, Judas bought a field; there he fell headlong, his body burst open and all his intestines spilled out. 19 Everyone in Jerusalem heard about this, so they called that field in their language Akeldama, that is, Field of Blood.)”
The final New Testament author to mention Judas is the one who penned the Gospel of John, which was written around the cusp of the 1st and 2nd centuries AD. He is again introduced (in 6:71) as the betrayer. John recounts the story of Jesus in Bethany, placing the events six days before Passover (compared to Mark and Matthew’s two). Here Judas is the one who objects to the woman anointing Jesus with expensive perfume, in 12:4 “But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, 5 ‘Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages‘ 6 He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.” In Matthew and Mark, it was just “the disciples” or “some of the disciples” who objected. Here the Johannine author abandons subtlety and pins the objection Judas, cementing his reputation as an asshole in our minds. Now Judas in not just greedy, but a thief! J’accuse! Later on, in verse 13, just before Passover, “The evening meal was in progress, and the devil had already prompted Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, to betray Jesus.” The other Gospels all place this “last supper” on Passover. John has the crucifixion on Passover instead. Here the awkward dinner conversation goes on a bit longer, in verse 21 “After he had said this, Jesus was troubled in spirit and testified, ‘Very truly I tell you, one of you is going to betray me.’ 22 His disciples stared at one another, at a loss to know which of them he meant. 23 One of them, the disciple whom Jesus loved, was reclining next to him. 24 Simon Peter motioned to this disciple and said, ‘Ask him which one he means.’ 25 Leaning back against Jesus, he asked him, ‘Lord, who is it?’ 26 Jesus answered, ‘It is the one to whom I will give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish.’ Then, dipping the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot. 27 As soon as Judas took the bread, Satan entered into him. So Jesus told him, ‘What you are about to do, do quickly.’ 28 But no one at the meal understood why Jesus said this to him. 29 Since Judas had charge of the money, some thought Jesus was telling him to buy what was needed for the festival, or to give something to the poor. 30 As soon as Judas had taken the bread, he went out. And it was night.” In chapter 18, the execution of the betrayal is played out as Jesus is in a garden–not explicitly Gethsemane. “2 Now Judas, who betrayed him, knew the place, because Jesus had often met there with his disciples. 3 So Judas came to the garden, guiding a detachment of soldiers and some officials from the chief priests and the Pharisees. They were carrying torches, lanterns and weapons.” There is no account of Judas’ death in John.
So encompasses what the Bible says of Judas Iscariot. His story is one that evolves before our eyes. Jesus was betrayed and crucified. Then he was betrayed by one of his most loyal followers, who marked his Lord with a kiss. Then Jesus foretold this at the Last Supper, and the traitor would kill himself out of guilt. Then we find he is not just a traitor, but a thief; also, an agent of Satan. Nothing in the story of Judas is indicative of historical authenticity. I know this point isn’t germane to my initial thesis, but please allow me the digression; the subject is important to me. The solid narrative of the Judas story is that he was a disciple who decided to betray Jesus to the authorities just before Passover. He handed Jesus over after Passover dinner. That’s it. The perfidy of Judas is not known by the earliest Christian author (Paul), apparently. The price of Judas’ soul is now the infamous 30 piece of silver. This, along with the purchase of the potter’s field, is an allusion to Zechariah 11: “10 Then I took my staff called Favor and broke it, revoking the covenant I had made with all the nations. 11 It was revoked on that day, and so the oppressed of the flock who were watching me knew it was the word of the Lord.12 I told them, ‘If you think it best, give me my pay; but if not, keep it.’ So they paid me thirty pieces of silver.13 And the Lord said to me, ‘Throw it to the potter’—the handsome price at which they valued me! So I took the thirty pieces of silver and threw them to the potter at the house of the Lord.'”
Modern Christian scholars (e.g. William Lane Craig) will try to explain how the story must be essentially true because it passes the criterion of embarrassment. Basically, this story would have been an embarrassment to the disciples, so they wouldn’t have kept it in unless it were being recorded for posterity. Why would the disciples of a nascent religious cult make up something like betrayal? This is a rationalization, not a case-closer. Betrayal is a pretty powerful story device. So even if the story were fabricated from whole cloth–which I do not presume–there is enough motive right there. The name of Judas is also suspect. There are various etymologies proposed for the last name, in fairness. But from a narrative-development standpoint, I think the derivation from sicari is quite likely. Should this be the case, the main antagonist of the story is Judas the Zealot. The zealots were a Jewish sect who promoted armed rebellion against the Romans. The earliest Gospel was probably composed just after the end of the First Jewish-Roman War, which was brought about in part by rebellions fomented by the Zealots. The war was devastating to the people of the region; aside from the tens of thousands of deaths, the Second Temple was destroyed. Reeling from the aftermath of the war, it is not hard to imagine early Christians painting the Zealots as particularly loathsome. This sect was co-founded by a man named, according to the 1st century Jewish historian Josephus, Judas of Galilee. Josephus says Judas’ son was the leader of the Zealot revolt in 66 AD that was one of the major triggers for the War. That is not to say that is incontrovertible evidence of the origins of Judas Iscariot, but it’s a hypothesis, and it at least shows that there is very much a possibility that the Bible story had inspirations in something beyond pure, unadulterated historical fact.
**Judas is the man who betrays Jesus. To whom? The authorities. The Church, the State. Why? If your a grown-up, you don’t get to say “greed”; that’s for the kids. No, “avarice” isn’t the right answer either. Evil, malice, hardness of heart, Satan, sinful nature… all missing the point. Judas betrayed Jesus, his dear friend, his mentor–hell, his Lord–because it was the right thing to do. “How in literally God’s name is betraying Jesus the right thing to do!?” We all know what happens after Judas betrays Jesus. We find out Jesus is the son of God, sent here to die on the cross for our sins. Duh. But did Judas know that? Did he really know that? You think Thomas was the only doubter? “What about the miracles he saw him perform?” This is a bias from our modern day. Jesus can do miracles, sure; he’s God… but anyone else? Balderdash! But until pretty recently, miracles were something people could do. Not everybody, sure, but if you had some sort of in with the divine, you could swing it. This is why the priests didn’t immediately convert to Christianity on the spot. Not every miracle-worker was necessarily incarnate of the one-true-God. So Judas saw the miracles. And he knew Jesus was special. But God? To claim you’re God is blasphemy. Judas, in the inner-circle knew more than the vague, whimsical responses Jesus would proffer to the priests: Jesus would have said explicitly in his presence that he was divine. The Church needs to know. And near the Passover time, when Jerusalem was swelling with people for the festival, with tensions between the Roman occupiers and a potentially tumultuous crowd at DEFCON 1, this self-proclaimed messiah might start a riot. People could be killed, innocent people. This is treason. The State needs to know. The Church, the State, the innocent people of Jerusalem: all these things are beyond Judas himself. Betrayal is a terrible crime for the Self to commit, but the Others need it. It is the right thing to do. He didn’t want to betray Jesus, he had to.
So with an anxious heart, Judas goes to the Authorities that are above him. “Who is it?” They inquire. “I… I can’t… I don’t…” He can’t bring himself to name his friend like a common criminal. “Look, I’ll give you a signal.” This is easier on the psyche. I don’t have to name him, just give a signal. It’s not personal…. “You’ve done the right thing,” the authorities reassure him. “Here’s a little something for your trouble”. It’s enough to be real money, but not anything that will by you a new life. Some rent payments, maybe, but not a new house by a long shot. Holiday supper with his friends, his company. Judas isn’t hungry; the anxiety muting his appetite. He tries to force something down. Put on the show, vesti la giubba. Don’t let burden others with your suffering. Jesus knows. “One of you will betray me.” Jesus doesn’t say this aloud; he merely passes Judas some bread. But Judas hears it loud and clear. They retire to a garden, peaceful, tranquil–the opposite of Judas’ heart. The Authorities come, looking for their man. Judas doesn’t point a condemning finger. This is his friend, his mentor. A kiss goodbye. Tetelestai. The authorities perform their inquisition, try, and execute Jesus. Judas isn’t there for any of it. His part is done. But he knows they kill him. He hasn’t spent the money because it was never about money. But money changed hands. The Authorities wash their hands with the money. “He was compensated; he took the money! This isn’t ethics, this is a business transaction!” This is what the ego can say in its defense. Judas tries in vain to get rid of the money, the symbol of his treachery. “Take the money, Goddammit! TAKE IT! Take it away from me!” The Authorities do not oblige him. The money’s tainted, they say. If they take it back, then they have nothing to hold in judgement against him. And so the world can judge Judas for the money. The money bears the sin for us. And the wages of sin is death. The guilt. The guilt consumes Judas. He doesn’t need to hang himself; the guilt will suffocate him for the rest of his life.
You must do the right thing because it is the right thing. You may be rewarded, but probably not. Not in any way commensurate to your sacrifices. There may be no redemption in the end, either. But you must do the right thing anyway. Because it is the right thing.
My working title for this essay was an overly-exuberant “Judas the Hero”. “Hero” would be incorrect in pretty much an sense of the definition I can think of, upon reflection. There are no feats of ability or bravery. He is just a man who does the right thing. Although we may call his narrative tragic, as he suffers hardship, he is not a tragic hero. A tragic hero experiences a reversal of fortune, particularity going from good to bad–that is, a fall from grace. Judas had no real fortune to lose, nor much of a real downfall. His misery was not a result of him being punished by God for wrongdoing. His story is the farthest possible deviation from that: his misery was a result of him punishing God for wrongdoing, essentially. And we may fairly call his tale of woe absurd, but he is not an Absurd hero. He is no Meursault, wandering through life sans purpose, combating the absurdity of a meaningless existence. He’s just a man in a story. A role model. He did the right thing, and for it he was condemned. But he did it anyway. It’s a story we should tell our children.
*Author’s note: major digression starts here
**Digression ends here