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| Judas reaches for the food, School of Monte Cassino, c.1100 |
I don’t have a great deal of skin in this game,
not being a Christian or believing in the divinity of Jesus – or at
least any more divinity than anyone else. Still, it is the tradition
I grew up in. The irreligiosity of my family didn’t diminish the
exposure to the story that one gets from wider society. It is a story
that few who grew up in the UK, at least around the time I was doing
so, could avoid knowing about.
Of course, without more study than even most
Christians put into it, you get a very simplistic idea of the story.
As with the Christmas story, the story we generally get through
liturgy, or being taught in school, or seeing dramatic
interpretations, is a sort of hodgepodge of the different gospel
accounts. The journey into Jerusalem, assorted miracles, the Last
Supper, the betrayal at Gethsemane. Yet all of these elements are
different in different gospels, as I noted in previous writing
concerning the Last Supper. Now, I am going to focus on the
betrayal of Jesus by Judas, a story whose meaning I’m not sure is
appreciated as best it might be – and a story that has been used
down the centuries to justify injustice.
Textual and source criticism of the Bible is a
fascinating area of study, and one I have not engaged in, but I
appreciate the work of others and try to draw some learning from it.
It is generally accepted that Mark was the first gospel, that Matthew
and Luke are both based on a combination of an early version of Mark
along with the ‘Q Document’ (hypothesised to be a collection of
recorded sayings of Jesus), and other sources unique to each. John is
the last to be composed, is stylistically very different, and has
signs of having a different context of composition and somewhat
different purpose. This is important. So I will, in the first case,
look at them broadly in order of composition.
The story of the betrayal takes place in Mark 14,
which opens with the “chief priests and teachers of law” (or
“chief priests and scribes”, if you prefer the King James
version) scheming to arrest and kill Jesus. Meanwhile, Jesus is in
Bethany, at the home of Simon the Leper, where a woman anoints him
with a jar of expensive perfume. Some present are indignant, seeing
the waste, that the perfume should have been sold to raise money for
the poor – it could have been sold for more than 300 denarii (which
the New International Version and King James Version note as more
than a year’s wages, though that parallel is different in some
other versions; we do know that some years earlier in 44BC, a Roman
legionary’s basic pay was 225 denarii a year). Jesus rebukes them,
saying that the poor will always be with them, there will be many
opportunities to help them – but he will not always be with them.
He further states the perfume is anointing him for burial, and
promises that what she did will be told wherever the gospel is
preached. It is immediately following this that Judas goes to the
“chief priests” to betray Jesus, and they promised him money. It
is not, however, stated that he asked for any payment. At the last
supper he predicts his betrayal, and calls woe upon the one who
betrays him, that it would be better for the betrayer if he had never
been born. After praying in Gethsemane, he is betrayed with a kiss –
the signal to the guards as to whom they should arrest – and taken
away after speaking disdainfully of the bearing of arms, the violence
that is begun in his defence, and that he was not leading a
rebellion. It is silent as to what happened to Judas after this.
The Matthew narrative, in chapter 26, begins
closely mirroring that of Mark. Jesus predicts his own crucifixion at
the beginning of the chapter, and the scheming of the chief priests,
this time with elders, and a named high priest, Caiaphas. The
anointment at Bethany is told again, and again Judas seeks to betray
Jesus following this. However, this time he asks what he will be
given in payment for betraying Jesus, and the famous thirty pieces of
silver are mentioned. The prediction of betrayal is made at the last
supper, and this time Judas explicitly is among those saying “surely
you don’t mean me”. The story of the betrayal with a kiss is very
similar, though Jesus says after he is kissed “do what you came
for, friend”. A new detail comes after this,at
the beginning of chapter 27: when Judas learns that Jesus is
to be killed, he returns the money to the priests and elders, saying
that he had sinned by betraying innocent blood. The priests scorn
him, saying that isn’t their problem, so he throws the money into
the temple and goes and hangs himself.
In Luke, the
story is in chapter 22. This time, the “chief priests and teachers
of law” are looking for a way to get rid of Jesus, and Satan is
said to enter into Judas, after which he goes to discuss how he might
betray Jesus. They offer money, and he agrees, looking out for an
opportunity to hand Jesus over when there is no crowd present. The
last supper passes without the prediction of betrayal, and Judas
approaches with a crowd after Jesus prays (this time at the Mount of
Olives), and then Jesus shows that he knows he is being betrayed –
the armed crowd probably being a clue. Again there is conflict, but
Jesus speaks even more strongly against it, healing the guard whose
ear was cut off by one of his own followers. Again, nothing is said
of the fate of Judas.
In John 13, there is less detail of the setting up
of the betrayal. Jesus knew that he would “leave the world” soon,
and it is stated that “the devil” had prompted Judas to betray
Jesus. Jesus washes the disciples feet, and shows his knowledge of
the imminent betrayal by stating that not all of his disciples are
clean. Then he says it outright, that one will betray him, and
indicates precisely who it is (by passing a piece of bread), at which
point Satan enters into Judas, and Jesus tells him to do quickly what
he is about to do. In chapter 18, Jesus is arrested after Judas
brings soldiers to find him, and again an ear is cut off by one of
his followers – this time specifically by Simon Peter. Jesus
rebukes him for it, because he has to go through with what will
happen – he must “drink the cup the Father has given” him.
Again, no more is said of Judas after this.
(It should be noted that Acts 1:18 quotes Peter as
saying that
Judas fell in a field he had bought with the money, and his “bowels
gushed out”.)
Interestingly, thanks to Andrew Lloyd Webber’s
lockdown-inspired The Shows Must Go On,
part of the writing of this post was done while watching a video
recording of the 2012 arena tour version of Jesus Christ
Superstar. As I
have noted as the
general case with dramatic interpretations, this draws from all the
gospels to put together its story. But it also puts some
interpretations that one may consider suggested by the gospels, but
not explicitly stated in them. It emphasises the idea that Judas is
uncomfortable with the way Jesus’ movement has developed, putting
in his mouth statements that the gospels do not attribute
specifically (such as the criticism of the use of perfume to anoint
Jesus rather than selling it to give money to the poor). It presents
Judas as going to the religious authorities as a natural result of
following Jesus’ teachings. He didn’t want the money, but took it
at their insistence and, as in Matthew, returned the money when he
realised that Jesus was to be killed (and then killed himself, again
as in Matthew). He even says that he was doing what Jesus wanted.
Truly, the only clear villains in Rice and Lloyd-Webber’s
interpretation are the Jewish religious authorities (which is
unfortunate, a point to which I shall be returning).
The
purported
actions of the priests and of Judas have been fuel for Christian
antisemitism
from the beginning. Avaricious motives and/or the actions of Satan
explain Judas’s actions in the more recent gospels, and the idea of
selling out something as important as the messiah for money has
formed part of the negative stereotype of Jews in the Christian mind.
John goes on to paint Pilate in a more positive light and the priests
more negatively, Pilate as reasonable and the priests as set against
Jesus beyond reason. This
is perhaps a
reflection of
the fact it was composed at a time when the early Church was more
clearly separating from its
Jewish roots, the arguable goal of reforming Judaism given up for the
formation of a new church that might be acceptable to the worldly
power of Rome. Judas and the
priests were either motivated, in this view, by selfish motives of
greed and jealousy of power, or were actively opposing the message of
Jesus out of sheer evil. It
is combined with other tropes of modern antisemitism to lead to the
suggestion of a Jew or group of Jews doing something they know to be
wrong for “30 shekels” (while the coins in question could
plausibly have been one of those known as shekels, the text uses a
word that means merely ‘silver coin’), often with a suggestion of
it not being a great deal of money (in fact, the figure is mostly
likely given in order to parallel uses of the same amount of money in
Hebrew scripture).
I wish it were
needless to say that I think this wrong, that such a source of
suffering and bigotry over the centuries was itself a great evil.
However, given the degree of antisemitism among Christians over the
whole history of the Church, something that most if not all of my
ancestors once you go back a few generations were inevitably in some
way party to, it does need to be said. Not only has scripture been
used in antisemitic ways, but elements of the composition of the New
Testament are clearly driven by antisemitism. That is the wrong
meaning to take from the story of Judas – and what I consider the
right meaning is certainly not original. It has been said by many
before me. Let’s look at
some other interpretations.
There is a
Gnostic perspective that Judas was literally doing what Jesus asked
of him, that he was a favoured disciple and had more of the plan
revealed to him and the others. This
is somewhat in line with the teaching of the ‘Gospel of Judas’, a
title referenced by early Christians but a text that was unknown
until the 1970s when a Coptic-language copy was unearthed, coming to
light eventually in Switzerland in the 80s and being made public in
the early 21st
century. This teaches that the other disciples misunderstood the true
teachings of Jesus, of an immaterial God in an “imperishable
realm”, and the need to connect with the God within. However,
before you think “gosh, that sounds very Quakerly”, it teaches
that not all have this God within – that only those with the God
within are able to understand the teachings, and only these have an
immortal soul. This was likely composed in the second century, and
its association with Judas pseudoepigraphical (like several New
Testament texts). It is also in the form of dialogues, rather than
the narrative tradition that came to dominate.
Regardless of
what weight you might give such esoteric views, it is clear from the
texts as they are written, even if one reads them only as stories,
that Jesus knew what was coming. He knew what God’s plan was, at
least a little in advance, and the text clearly invites the reader to
conclude that things were proceeding as intended. Judas fulfilled a
part in that plan. Whether you think his own motives to do so were
ignoble, devil-inspired, or somehow noble, it was a necessary step in
the plan. Indeed, perhaps he had little volition in it at all
(especially if you have a fatalistic view of predestination).
Perhaps Judas was
a figure who did what he did for whatever reason, but was wracked
with guilt over it. Perhaps
he did end up killing himself over it. Yet he did what was necessary.
He did something that was wrong, by his own moral standards and
possibly by those of others at the time. But it was necessary.
That may be the
real lesson of the story of Judas – that wrong things may be
necessary to achieve a greater good. A statement that makes us
shudder because it may open the door to awful things, yet one that it
is difficult to deny absolutely. What would any of us do if faced
with a
choice like that of
Judas, a knowledge of what must be done – morally,
not because of some belief that we know God’s will –
yet the same knowledge that it is wrong, that it will be seen to be
wrong, and that if it is remembered it will continue to be seen as
wrong.
Not a position I
would envy.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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