Dear Judas Iscariot

“You will exceed them. For you will sacrifice the man that clothes me.”
– Christ to Judas (The Gospel of Judas, ca 150)

Dear Judas Iscariot. Here's another time again cycled by the inevitable Christian calendar, to also remember your last kiss on earth. This too shall pass. But not until He comes again. You were fortunate to have kissed the Son of Man. But it was that thing you did, Judas kiss, which made all the difference. A difference for you. For the world after Christ. Your kiss will always be remembered. But you will remain the treacherous disciple who sold God’s begotten Son for thirty coins of silver. But Christianity and everyone who follows the religion would not be the same without you.

That is when I said to myself that you were also chosen. Chosen, but to be the traitor. Chosen to be cursed. Like the tree of wisdom in the Garden of Eden. Chosen amongst many. I realised that life is a game of choosing. In the end when He comes again the chosen few would be lifted. Those few would inherit the Kingdom. Not everyone. Many will be missed out. That goes to say that the leftovers would be plenty. Like the plagued quail in the desert. A blessing of manna turned rotten again. This place is already a grave of lust. But the world remembers you, for you were chosen to be one among the faithful twelve, and the chosen one again to “exceed them.” You were the choice of fate. In anger they even pitied the womb that carries you.

Many a times, as a Christian, I resemble you than I did of the Son of Man. When, fortunately, I was chosen and blessed with salvation, I also sold him for no price at all. I am a traitor too. Sometimes, I sold Him for less than thirty silver coins that you took. Many a times, it was for a trifle amount. But I sold Him too. Not just once. I dare not count them. The guilt is all the same. Is there a smaller guilt? A smaller sin? But I won’t hang myself like you did. Sometimes the guilt is too heavy. Just like the burden of the cross. But I won’t choose the noose if I were not chosen to be. Many a times, I tried washing my hands like Pontius Pilate, the Roman, did. The water has changed. I need not wet my hands to wash myself clean. I need no circumcision to become one of the chosen. I am a changed man. Even then, I felt the guilt of you, Judas, the Jew. That is when I used to find myself trapped in two identities - The act of the Roman, which has become an inevitable part of me, and the guilt of the Jew. None of them could swallow my guilt, except for the cross. But I belong to them both. I suppose this will be me as long as my life dwells here on earth. But did Pilate ever carry the burden of guilt like you do? Maybe he wasn’t chosen to feel any sense of guilt too. When you are chosen, you are the chosen. The choice is never yours to keep.

Today people remember you for all the wrong reasons that you lived through. But you were chosen for that. You could really have no choice. From Hollywood to the distressed people who are confronting famine in the hills of Manipur’s Churachandpur, “You will be cursed” again as the Son of Man warned you. That must be the reason why none spoke of the other side of you. Sometimes I wonder if I would ever be chosen to be one of the disciples if I was there during Jesus time. I wonder if our multiplying tribe of pastors, who spoke in tongues and learn to skin the Book, would be chosen for the same too if they were there at that time. When I know I won’t even sound like a cowbell, you were chosen to be one of the disciples. Not only that, you were chosen to take charge of the treasury. That shows you must be good with numbers. That also shows you were most trusted for the job. Honest and worthy too. What if Peter had taken that charge? He might buy the best boat and fishing nets available in Galilee, if not Nazareth, and move far away where he will never become fishers of man. And if he happens to be bowed down by his guilt he would return and still say that he knew nothing about the money that he was supposed to take care of. You never know, for he despised Jesus three times. Serial liar. But fortunate son, Peter was. He was not chosen to be the traitor to sell Jesus. Otherwise he might even take money three times and kissed the Son of Man for more than that. But he was chosen to be the rock despite disowning Jesus in His helpless hour.

You also knew about the dark hour that has its clutches firm on you. That approaching gloom where your part was to be the biggest mole. When the Son of Man honoured you with the bread dipped in sauce, it was an affirmation of the dark path that you were chosen to tread. The Book said that the devil entered inside you after you were served the bread. And the Son of Man, in anguish, had to drink from the cup the Father has given Him. Did you know that he prayed, wishing the cup was not His, but if only the Father wishes? Did you know that after you betrayed the Son of Man, in painful loneliness, cried and asked, “Father why have you forsaken me”? It did not end with the kiss that you planted. That bitter kiss. That kiss that changed the world. Christianity would not be the same without you. Without your kiss.

The Son of Man left saying, “It is finished.” And you became the most hated man in the history of Christianity. You still are. There could be no turning back for you. You were seen as more than an enemy. That must be the reason why there seem to be no love at all for you. You were trapped in the course of time and prophecy. Caught in the path that no man will ever choose to tread. You were chosen to be the traitor. The noose was yours too. Pontius Pilate chose Caesar. Not Him. But I am chosen too. This time salvation is mine, dear Judas Iscariot.

(Delhi, March 21, 2008)