Judas Iscariot’s Secret

(The Gospel of Judas Iscariot)



It was a stiff shock for me, one of the bitterest I ever had to look at. And it all came about through my awkwardness. Even yet sometimes, when I think of it, I want to howl if not swear or simply kick myself. Perhaps, even now, for a time looking at it, there possible could be a kind of contentment in making myself look low-priced by telling of it. But I will tell it nonetheless.
It began one afternoon in North Dakota in the early 1980s, I was dating a student at the University of North Dakota, and we sat in a night club drinking tap beer, my mind trotting and pacing over a statement she made.
To tell you the truth, I felt a little foolish that I should be sitting in a night club at all. I don’t like drinking or smoking. But during this summer she was graduating and wanted me to be present so I made several trips, and persuaded her to graduate with honors, and she did.
Anyhow, the statement she made, I thought it something disgraceful, but I tried to look at it, or pretended to look at it as less than what it was, after all I had to work, and didn’t want it on my mind other than as a passing thought.
Her question, or statement, depending on how you phrase it, perhaps even it could be put into a statement-question category was, “Perhaps Judas Iscariot isn’t as guilty of the scorn everyone gives him…!” She said something on that order.
If she taught me anything it was how to rub down a thought, idea, and put it on hold. To me at the time, I figured she was simply putting a bandage on some old hurt that was left loose, or untied in the bible. But as years went on, I wrote a few articles on Judas, and this will be my third. I guess he’s been a big driver of thoughts in my head, kind of like—under my skin, kind of like ‘What was his secret?”

Well I knew that Judas Iscariot knew, Jesus’ mission, his divinity, perhaps clearer than anyone at that time on earth, even amongst his kind, the apostles. He also knew ahead of time the sacrifice Jesus was going to make and why (and thereafter his working being done for the time being, on earth and he’d be headed back up yonder, and Judas left to his mission). Also Judas knew, the power Jesus had behind that mortal shell he was in; —and to repeat myself he knew His divinity, His immortality.
But that isn’t what I want to tell my story about. There’s a lot of things you’ve got to look at, some psychological, some spiritual, and whose to say, one might even come to the conclusion: he didn’t know any better—God forbid, but man may have done some dumber thinks, a few of the apostles remember denied Christ, one by the name of Thomas had to see and touch before believing. But of course, they are not really the premise here, so I shall let it lie where dead dogs lie.
So here was a question I had to answer, it was right in front of me, right in the grand stand, you might say, “Why then did Judas chose potential self-destruction?” You know how it is, nobody in their right mind chooses this for any reason—I knew that much when I was looking at both sides of the coin, the psychological and spiritual. You see, Judas knew the interconnecting of the Divine Trinity, he wasn’t stuck on himself, to the point of denying this, if anything knowing this put him in a race against time—and this will come out later, but never mind that now.
It is also safe to say, Judas knew Jesus’ self-limitations; that is, inside his shell of humanity (I hate to say, but it is obvious once looked at, biblically and humanistically). This is a sweaty area for Christendom, or Christology—that being pretty close to the end, for here was a man, and God, and who could by choice, make a choice, and be omnipotent, but didn’t. Perhaps again, I may throw a tidbit into this bowl of crickets, one Judas created: perchance, him knowing this, and he didn’t use it, irked him. I’m only telling you this to get everything straight, and out in the open. If you are saying, “Gee whiz,” how can you say such a thing—or such tings? We are talking about a human being, Judas, a psychological man, so I figured this out, he was no dope, nor am I blaming him, but who doesn’t want to be on the side of great power? And if that power is not being used according to the Gospel of Judas, just like the power of Julius Cesar, people will lean on that person. Maybe Judas was not so different.
In any case, the question arises, “Why did Judas do what he did?” Well what exactly did he do? One person could say, “What a chump,” he was all of that. Or another could say, “What a traitor, he was!” He was all of that also, matter-of-fact, he was both of course; but this is surface talk—this is the situation, the problem for me was under the surface, it always is: perhaps this dude was on a power high.

When a man goes to war for his homeland, he is in essence doing so for the greater glory of his country, and in the process may have to give up his life for that country, and the people in it. Is this not so? And did not Jesus say, the greatest gift man can give to another is his life, something on that order? Oh yes, He said it loud and clear. This may shed some light on Judas’ humanity, his psychological make up, his act of treason, his reasoning.
Let’s remember, this fellow was no mutt, many a man, or men in his day, would have given their golden teeth to be in his position, I mean, and I’d bet he could had made a million on the side by just introducing Jesus to the local elite. But you know how a fellow is, if there are diamonds hidden in the well, why waist your time bringing over to the king the local brothers of the lodge.
I don’t want to make a fool of myself, for a slip-up—anyhow, but the question has come to surface, “Did Judas love Jesus?” To say otherwise, or even maybe, is an offence, of course he did. But how do you force a person’s hand who is not listening? Remember he is a man of his day. If he didn’t love Jesus, after receiving his thirty pieces of silver, he would not have thrown them away, and then he would not have sunk into a dreadful depression, nor would he have committed suicide. He was not guilty of blasphemy, rather a different offence, perhaps he loved power more than anything, or perhaps he loved the power Jesus could have, and he’d be part of it.
History has sat on a nice sofa chair talking about Judas as if they knew him each and everyone, for years and years, personally, and left out the psychological man, for the spiritual: and in so doing, bluffed it through, never finding out the real man behind the mask, they’ve been like lame cows.

The mind, Judas labored with his ambition—psychologically and with his spirit— he was of both fibers (perhaps he forgot happiness was or is a byproduct, not a divine attribute), in saying this, the next question that comes up is: “Was Judas trying to force the hand of God?” In essence, was he trying to take change of the world through his son? Or trying to get a piece of it ahead of time? And if so, who would be Jesus’ right hand man? And did Judas think: ‘Look here, I got a chance to be by the Father and Holy Spirit, the whole Godhead!” Perhaps so, and perhaps to degrees, whose to say.
Vanity and self-interest, which are part of the fiber of man, part of the original sin man inherited, is stronger than the whims of the devil himself.

†

Other Questions

Other questions that have come up have been: “Was Judas’ act predestined, or preordained? Well, whatever the case may be, it didn’t need to be. Perhaps Judas was plan B. that became plan A. It all depended on—I believe availability and usability. Although the time this all took place I do trust was preordained, it was a perfect time, a time of much construction, especially roads, by Rome, whom ruled the known and civilized world.

Most of us think all the bible facts have come to light, when in-between these sacred books within the two canons, much is hidden to be revealed later, as if many parts are written in invisible ink. For each decade, generation, century has its own make up—its own needs, its own language you might say, and that is why the bible can speak from two-thousand years ago, to the contemporary man and woman of today.

The last question, “Did Judas commit the unpardonable sin?” If he did, he’s in hell, if he didn’t, well fine, then most likely he’s been pardoned. It’s a questioned to be reckoned with. He did believe who Jesus Christ was, the gospel in essence, which is: who Christ was, and what did he do, and why did he do it. In this he just got his values crossed I do believe. But for the second part, did he blasphemy the Holy Spirit? If he did, he’s down yonder. But how would he have done that? I can think of one way, by the act of treason, and if indeed he wanted to be on one side of Jesus, this was impossible, because Jesus even told John’s mother, it was impossible, because He was on one side of the father, and the Holy Spirit on the other, so was Judas trying to kick the Holy Spirit off the throne, or out of the Godhead, if indeed he was, that come under the unpardonable category.


No: 456 (8-25-2009)

As a Sleeping Man Kills a Fly (a story about a season of death)

When I die, I do hope it is not as quick as a sleeping man swats kills a fly. That is how my aunt Rose died, and my cousin, Larry died, and how my uncle Chris died in the hospital, unattended, all alone in the dark; it all happened suddenly and abrupt, without warning—to all mentioned, all in the matter of a few years, on nice seasonal days. There she was my Auntie Rose, walking in the living room of her granddaughter’s apartment where she lived, and choked to death, no one hearing her, almost sleepwalking, and she died, just like that, and that was all that was left of her, one short, and everlasting day. Then she turned cold in death, and pale and stiff, as we all do. We had vaguely spoken to one another after my mother died, three years prior. And like my grandfather, twenty-years before, she laid on the floor, her blue veins protruding. There she was like that—just like that.
After that, after my mother’s death, winters and summers came and left seemingly unnoticed for me, perhaps because I was trying hard to adjust to my new conditions. Then came another death, up to this writing, to this very moment, there has been several deaths in the family, one after the other, so compactly side by side, one might think this was a most prosperous season for our family to die in, the last being Ann my aunt and godmother. She was the last to lend a quick alert to our family tree, and add another soul into the once half empty canister.
My brother Mike notifies me almost every time such an event, a death, and its undertaking takes place, within the family, and among our old, and near childhood, neighborhood friends. He and I of course, are still hanging in there. Yet it makes me wonder, and conceivably him some, who will be the fellow to notify me of the next death, if indeed he isn’t around to do it, if indeed I go first—and he’s not around to do it thereafter—well, you see what I mean.
The feeling of having the other person at hand of something or for something, of managing such affairs—and someone to tell them to, is comfortable, and nice, especially on a cold and rainy outside (night or day, any season will do). Both he and I, feel this, it makes us warm and cozy. I don't know, but most likely, the death of so, so many draws us closer. Both he and I have felt this, possibly Mike more consciously than I because he is the one doing the calling, and telling, going to the wakes, and funerals, receiving the death phone calls from the beloved and grieving—I’m six-thousand miles away (thank goodness).

Oh-key, go ahead, say what you want, what you will, I don’t like funerals—period. They are to me like spots of dried paste. And spots of blistering paint, one inside the old house, the other on the exterior; death and funerals are like old worn-out overcoats, never again to see the light of day. The bodies are taut and hard, ugly and dreadful, pale and in areas soft, and no light in their eyes.
Well, to the devil with it all, I’m sure there will be a new disaster to the family sooner than later, ahead, and the prospects are good it could be me! When I die, I do hope though, like my mother, I have time to say goodbye, if not, let me say it now: Goodbye!


8-15-2009/Written at the Mia Mamma Café, Huancayo, Peru, No: 452