A Letter to Judas Iscariot

 This post was contributed by Caroline Hunter in response to Matthew 16:47-27:6.

Dear Judas Iscariot,
     If only you had never repented, you wouldn't have had to hang yourself. You wouldn't have been advised to carry out self-retribution by those whose protection enabled your sin. Your wouldn't have felt the weight of your soul-friend's heart as he learned that you had left him alone to face violent crowds.
     Judas, your worst sin was not when you betrayed Jesus to the authorities, but that you did it with a heart that was still half-living. How dare you invite others into your life when it contained such corrosion? Why didn't you live alone, with no friends, no goals, no political connections with which to kill those whom you claimed to love? If you hadn't betrayed Jesus, somebody else might have, but it didn't have to be you!
     You, who said "Not I, Lord?" in the company of all the disciples, who had learned of a new way to live with your humanity and without violence, who had been a source of hope and joy for others. You gave yourself to darkness before another person had the chance to be born as light into your life.
      What made you believe that Jesus was an obstacle to your safety, to a life of kindness to yourself? What weird visions did you see as the threat of death began to dance circles around you? Did you accidentally stumble away from yourself before waking up in horror and repentance? Was there a part of you saying in tears all along, "Not I, Lord?"
       I cannot imagine the moment you realized that your betrayal had been neither necessary nor something for which there was a place in Jesus' Kingdom of God. I think of my own failures in faith: I believe that my future will be dark and strange even though my Father has promised to guide me; I see people as what they hold against me instead of for the kindness they have to offer; I refuse to look at myself in the mirror in order not to see my unashamed enthusiasm for life. I find comfort in burying my sins alone rather than admitting them to an unknown authority.  I plot against Jesus' life with you, Judas, so that I won't have to open my heart to a world that has unconsciously torn me apart so many times.
       Judas Iscariot, show me how it is good to repent. Show me how to keep looking for my Father in life and in death. Will you help  me when I come to see all of the life I could have saved by believing? Let me not wonder with you, "Where have I gone?" Save me, as Jesus must have saved that part of you still saying "Not I?" after your body had died hanging from a noose. Let me be human, rather than an artificially preserved soul in a sterile, modern world. Judas, give me courage to love this fleeting, imperfect life.

Yours,
Caroline Hunter