Chapter 5 - Come Home Judas

Here is my next foray into one of the grey areas of the gospel, The Gospel according to Judas.

Judas has been a seen as a black sheep by Bible readers, churches, and theologians for millenia. In a lot of ways he is. I know that he was the one that took a bribe to turn Jesus in to the authorities. I know he was money-focused, and blind to the true message that Jesus was trying spread. I know all this. I can imagine that he was a hateful, mousy man, full of confusion and torn between his new life and his old. I can imagine all that. And even knowing all that, I cannot force this thought out of my mind: He sounds a lot like me.

I don’t know how we have ignored this story so utterly for so long. I can’t shake it. I am Judas. He is me. When I decide to look at his world from his perspective, things change for Judas. I know we are all responsible for our own actions, but think about this for a second: Jesus chose Judas. Likely he knew from the beginning the role that Judas would play in his downfall, and yet he didn’t exclude Judas from any of the teaching, any of the trips, or of the company of his presence. Then think about this: The day after Jesus’ death, Judas went back to the High Priest and threw the money down, muttering something about I have done a terrible thing. Sounds sort of repentant, don’t you think? Then he went off and hung himself from a tree. I can’t imagine what a frightful state of mind he was in for those 48 hours or so.

I am sure he may have had a different outcome in mind for his betrayal. Maybe he wanted to force a political confrontation and settle this thing once and for all. Many of the Jews wanted a saviour so that they could rid themselves of the Romans. Regardless, I wonder what Jesus would have said to Judas if Judas had survived the three days, when Jesus returned to his disciples to personally tell them it is finished. In his book The Gospel According to Judas, Ray S. Anderson tells the story of how he came across this bit of graffiti in a San Fran bathroom: Come home Judas, all is forgiven. From that bit of writing, Ray is inspired to write a book imagining conversations between Jesus and Judas after the resurrection. Come home Judas, all is forgiven. It applied to Peter, it applies to you and I, why would Judas be excluded?

The more I think about it, the more I feel akin to this tortured man. I myself have blatantly betrayed Jesus for personal gain. I betray him daily. That is the reason I need that forgiveness, it is most certainly not the reason I am excluded from it. All we need, the Bible tells us, is to repent. Judas did. He just didn’t stick around long enough to feel the forgiveness wash over him. Just a couple more days, Judas, and you would your world would have been a different place, like mine is. I suppose Judas knows this by now, but I kind of feel the need to stick up for him.

I told you that to tell you this: I am trying to sort out the dos and don’ts, the shoulds and the shoudn’ts, the traditions and the expectations that have been placed on me from my various experiences in churches left of center and right of center, of Bible College cultrual experiences, of mystified readings of the Word. I am trying to make for myself a set of beliefs that I can stand behind, but allow for openess and characterize the lack of judgement that Jesus has shown. I want to learn to pass on forgiveness freely. I want to teach my children true things. At a time in my life where I feel more akin to Judas and the the tax collector than any other character in the Bible, I hang my head and beat my chest and tell Jesus have mercy on me, for I am a sinful man. It is at times like this that I hear those words ringing through my head, rumbling and unstoppable like a midnight train outside the window tand my world shakes: Come home Judas, all is forgiven. I must forgive Judas because to exclude him from God’s forgiveness excludes me too, and Peter, and mostly everyone in the world. Let he who has not sinned cast the first stone.

As I pull down the walls of my church, looking for the cornerstone, looking for a foundation to build something lasting on, it is here I find the raw materials for the new building: the vast, solid, and profound knowledge that no matter what, I am forgiven. I am home, all is forgiven.

I heard the rooster’s call I threw the silver at the temple wall I couldn’t wait, but that was the first day. I don’t know what I’ve done But though death was on his face, There was forgiveness on his tongue. Halleluia.