Twenty-Four

As I went out, I looked carefully around to see if there was any sign of either David or the black fiend, but I saw no one. They were doubtless somewhere in the vicinity, however, and so I went by an extremely circuitous route, making sudden turns and doubling back, dagger ready, but it seemed no one was after me.

I then hastened to Zebulun and told him that Jesus was now eating the Passover with his students. He made little clicking noises with his tongue, as if to rebuke him for taking the minority view of when the moon was full, but quickly summoned a group of the High Priest's slaves and several Roman soldiers, and we rather stealthily marched out across the Kidron brook and up the hill to the Gethsemani garden. Zebulun expressed surprise that Jesus would be staying there, since it was such an obvious place, and I told him that Jesus had a way of clouding people's minds so that no one would notice him. He expressed skepticism with his expression, and said he would take the matter up later with his officers.

We had used up quite a bit of time in organizing ourselves, and it was very late when we finally arrived, which made no difference, because I knew the group was going to sleep there--and besides, the longer we delayed, the more time the Sanhedrin would have to convene and organize a trial.

We entered through the single gate, with no one on the watch to hinder us, not even the black fiend. Not everyone was sleeping, but those who were not were as if they were drunk from exhaustion--I presume they had not regaled themselves on the Passover wine. Jesus had probably kept them listening to his final words, whatever they were. He could be lengthy when he spoke, at times.

As we entered, we perforce made considerable noise, and Jesus, who was off by himself praying, had waked John and the Rock, who looked anything but rocky, and John's brother James.

I had told the soldiers that the one I kissed would be the one they wanted, and went up to him and, feeling like a fool, said, "Good evening, Rabbi," and kissed him. He said in a subdued and extremely saddened voice, which cut me to the heart, "Judas, would you betray the Son of Man with a kiss?" I dropped back among the soldiers; we were clearly enemies now, and I was already beginning to regret it. But it was done.

"Who is it you are looking for?" said Jesus to the centurion.

"Jesus of Nazareth," he answered in a strong, military voice.

"That is the one I AM," he said, making the hills ring with I AM for almost a minute.

Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of him as those he took onto Mount Tabor must have seen: full of dazzling light, and immediately afterward I saw what Mary must have seen in Magdala through the eyes of the demons who possessed her. There were three black whirlpools instead of a face, each of them going down, down, into the depths of the underworld. Unlike Mary, I did not scream; I was beyond screaming. He had showed me in one instant what he was to those who followed and loved--and believed--in him, and at the next instant, what he was to those who did not.

All the soldiers and the High Priest's guard stepped back as I did, and fell down with faces to the ground in worship.

In worship.

I knew now, with dazzling clarity, that I had been wrong! He was what he claimed to be, not someone who was filled with the power of God; he was the Almighty himself, though limiting himself to expressing himself only as human, except when miracles were called for. How did I not realize this earlier? He himself had said, "What can do more can do less," and I had dismissed it as his madness. He had given me the opportunity to believe--to realize--what he was, and I had dismissed it as ravings, when it was abundantly clear, had I only been able to open my eyes, that if there was anything that he was not, it was mad.

He asked a second time, "Who is it you are looking for?" and Zebulun answered, with a trembling voice, "Jesus of--ah--Nazareth."

What could I do? There was a skirmish as that idiot the Rock tried to use his sword and only succeeded in cutting off the ear of the High Priest's servant--something Jesus quickly remedied, to the astonishment of everyone, and then he said, "If I am the one you are looking for, then let these men go," and the students ran through the bewildered soldiers out the gate into freedom, with no one lifting a finger.

I took advantage of the confusion and left myself, heading for the Temple, where I entered and said to the first person I saw, "Take me to those in charge!" and when they ushered me in, I said, "I have sinned in betraying innocent blood!" and held out the bag of coins.

"What is that to us?" they grinned. "You see to it."

They had what they wanted and refused my repentance! They did not care what was right; they merely wanted to get rid of Jesus! And I was complicit in it! I roared in frustration and agony and took my bag of coins and flung them into the Temple treasury, and dashed off.

Where would I go? What could I do? How could I make amends? I thought with anguish that if I returned to Jesus, he would forgive me, even if he could not now save himself from death. I had half expected him to disappear after he identified himself, but for some unaccountable reason, he was going to go through with it--because he knew that in the last analysis, the people would not accept him as their king.

They would not accept God, the one who had called them out of Egypt so many centuries ago, as their King! Because, like me, they did not believe because, like me, they would not believe in spite of all the evidence he had shown!

And if I ran up to the cross as he was hanging on it and begged forgiveness, he would forgive me! I was as certain of that as I was that he was what he said he was: one and the same thing as the Father, whatever that meant, however it was possible. How could I not have known? Because I would not know!

But I would not run up to the cross; I knew I would not. And the reason was that I did not deserve to be forgiven! The fact that he would forgive me had nothing to do with the fact that I had committed the unforgivable sin! Did he not say at some time that if a man sinned against the Holy Spirit, his sin would not be forgiven? If I had not sinned against the Holy Spirit, who had? Or who would?

No, even if he would forgive me--and I knew he would, in spite of what he had said--he would not actually forgive me, because I would not allow myself to be forgiven. I would die before I would ask for forgiveness, not because I did not want forgiveness, but because I had no right to ask for forgiveness, least of all from him!

I knew now what I must do. I hastened home, and here I am putting the finishing touches in writing this; I have finished with writing. I am finished with everything forever. It is for me to enter those black whirlpools and spend eternity regretting what I had done, and rejoicing in the torture, because I deserve so much worse!

Let it be known that I bitterly repent what I have done, but I will not seek forgiveness, because what I have done is beyond forgiving.

There is a rope here, and a box, and a terebinth tree handy in my back yard. I will be dead before Jesus dies, and so cannot ask his forgiveness.

I know not whether anyone will ever see this, though I suppose that that black Satan and perhaps David will see it, and take it to someone who can read.

Or not. What does it matter?

What does anything matter?

Most of all, what do I matter?

The world had a chance at happiness, as did I, and because of me, it has lost it.

The whole thing is absur

"And that is where it ends," said Matthew. "He must have been frantic, from the scrawl he made, and rushed out to kill himself forgetting to finish the last word."

"And now he is in that horror that I was in when I killed myself," said David, solemnly.

"Well, we cannot be too sure," answered Matthew.

"What do you mean?"

"You see, we know he repented from betraying Jesus. But how do we know that, while he was choking to death--" "That is right. It took him a long, long time to die."

"Perhaps during that time, he saw the folly of his pride in "committing the unforgivable sin"; he knew that Jesus would forgive it, but he wanted to confirm it as unforgivable by killing himself before he could change heart. How do we know that during this time he was struggling to breathe, he saw the real truth, and repented from his suicide?"

"Oh, Master, say not that! If anyone deserves to rot in hell, it is Judas!"

"No, David, no. Each and every one of us, if we but knew it, deserves to rot in hell. But Jesus died precisely to save us from this fate. That I know. But he only died to save those who wish to be saved; he will respect our freedom, as he always does."

"So he is in hell."

"I know not. Perhaps his rescue--his repentance while he was dying--depends on how many people pray for him. We know that Jesus loved him as he loves all of us; and people's prayers can change hearts. And God is eternal; there is no time with him. So people praying after he dies can bring it about that before he died, he would receive the grace to repent of all his sins."

"It does not sound fair."

"You are, of course, right, David; it is not fair. Thank God it is not fair. If things were 'fair,' we would all be in eternal flames! All of us! You know that! You were rescued from the very thing that Judas was guilty of! And why? Because, certainly, of the prayers of your mother!

"But I suspect that it will require many more than the prayers of your mother to save Judas. But if enough people pray for him, he too may escape damnation.

"But still."

"Think about it. Think of what Jesus went through for you and for me and for each of us. Because that is why he did it. For what other reason would he endure such a horror?"

Amen.