Note: I wrote the following story after reading a screenplay that my professor wrote about Jesus as a man, rather than a divine being. This story is an interpretation of the scripture, not a translation.
The soldiers put sackcloth over Jesus’s head and led him away to Jerusalem. The rest of the disciples ran from there while frantically tripping over roots and scurrying to their feet to flee.
“What just happened?” Judas said to Peter.
“I don’t know,” said Peter, “but we need to get out of here.” A fierce rain began to fall.
Judas froze. “Now!” Peter said stridently.
They ran towards Peter’s mother in law’s house through an unknown shortcut, taking a trail that was used by wild goats.
When they got there their hearts were beating loudly enough that they didn’t have to knock on the door but were greeted at the door by Peter’s mother in law.
“Peter, Judas, what happened to you two?” She exclaimed.
“Come in, come in. Watch your heads.” She said as they entered the house.
“Mother,” Peter said as he sat by the fire,
“Jesus has been kidnapped by the bodyguards of the Temple priests in the garden. We have nowhere-”
Peter stopped speaking suddenly.
“Wait,” he continued,
“You led them there, didn’t you? Peter looked at Judas. Judas put more wood on the coals, causing the flatbread that was on the baking stone to spontaneously combust.
“I-I-I don’t know why he f-f-followed me,” Judas replied, stuttering due to the cold of the driving rain.
“I met him in the courtyard on my way to the upper room. He provided the cup and wine for the meal; I just met the man!” He then stood up, vexed, and locked his gaze with Peter’s.
“Why? Tell me, why would I betray the Son of God to that… hooligan of a priest?”
Peter and Judas, while drying their outer garments sat silently around the fire for what seemed to be an hour. Judas was carving on a tablet while Peter sharpened his dagger with a furrowed brow.
Suddenly there was a sharp cracking sound on the door. Everyone in the house scurried to a place to hide.
“Peter!” Said the booming voice on the other side of the door.
“Let us in!”
Peter, frightened by the sound, grabbed his coat and dagger and slid across the earthen floor to the back exit, a secret passage which led to the rear of the house in case of emergencies.
“Mother!” He whispered loudly to her. She poked her head out from her hiding place, confirming she had heard him.
“I’m going to the temple to see Jesus. He,” he said pointing at Judas who was about to follow him, “he stays here. Don’t let him out of your sight.”
As soon as Peter left, his assailants forced the door open, breaking the beam which barred it in half.
“John, James!”
She said embracing the two brothers with a grip that could have wrung the rain out their garments. Then John spotted Judas and made a beeline for him, picking him up by his outer garment from which a purse with thirty Roman coins fell on the floor, skidding and sliding as if they were on skates. The rest of the disciples, who were with Jesus in the Garden, entered the dwelling and were greeted by Peter’s Mother in law.
“You sold him out!” John said as he threw Judas close to the fire, singeing his arm hair.
“For what!” John pinned him down and put one of the coins in his face, facing Caesar’s impression towards Judas.
“This Roman dung!” Judas spit blood in John’s face.
“You’re mental, John!” He said, “We’re not some pigs you can drive off a cliff.”
“We!” said John. “What do you mean w-”
“We,” Judas said with an evil glint in his eye.
Matthew, unaware of the situation, pulled John off Judas, struggling to keep from sliding on the slick, wet floor.
“Leave. Him. Be. John.” Matthew said.
John got off of Judas. Then Judas, on his hands and knees, scurried to the places the coins were deposited and put them back into the purse.
“What’s this?” Matthew picked up a clay tablet by Judas’ outer garment which tore in the incident.
“Judas, did you write on-” He was gone.
“Where’s Judas?”
“He took off in the direction of the temple,” said Bartholomew.
John gathered himself together and headed toward the door.
“I’m going to tell Mary and Mary Magdala what happened to Jesus. Stay here. Pray for him.”
John left.
The disciples prayed as Jesus taught them to throughout the night. Early the next morning, Matthew arose from his mat and put another log on the fire. He remembered the tablet that was left by Judas and thought it would put him to sleep. He retrieved it and began to read it:
To my Brothers,
I didn’t mean to betray him. It just happened. I met Simeon, the young man, on the way to our Passover meal. He kindly offered me the vessels and wine for the meal in exchange that I return after our meal. No harm, no foul. Right? Except for Jesus being arrested. When he asked me where we were staying, I truly honestly believe that he was like Nicodemus, a nice man looking for answers from Jesus.
After Rachel and the baby died, I was angry with God and the oppressors that I fell in with the Anti-Roman group of ruffians I knew when I was a youth in Jerusalem.
Being around Barrabbas, Caleb, and Saul again, made me feel I found my purpose, my meaning in life. I felt chosen by God to be the scourge of the oppressors. I was able to get jobs, working for the Romans so I could spy on them. I did not get these jobs through nepotism. As you know, I am very proud of my works and my father’s works. After all, our name is Iscariot. Remember that one time when we went to Jerusalem and saw those ornate columns? I made those alongside my father when I was eight. I got my first real stone chisel at that age, and have the scar to prove it. That was also the day my father told me that with stone, there is no fixing your mistakes. “All your flaws are seen in the light of day, and dark of night,” he would say before and after each job. This betrayal is cut in stone. All my flaws will be judged in the light of day and the dark of night.
I was angry and depressed before I met him. I told him, “Nothing will make me feel better, ever.” That is a lie. He made me feel joy, contentment, and a sense of meaning.
Dear God, what have I done! I betrayed a man who did nothing wrong, nothing at all! He’s innocent! Without him, I’m lost forever. I know he won’t forgive me. He didn’t forgive those who did unspeakable acts to Mary Magdala, he didn’t forgive those who killed his father, why would he forgive someone who didn’t mean to betray him, but did?
I will go to the Temple and try to trade the silver for Jesus. If I fail, I will hang myself in the Potters Field. If I have had to kill myself, please give my post to someone that God wills. All of you know that I hated that Mary wasted that perfume on his feet, his feet! The poor will always be with us, Jesus said, as well as the depressed. If Jesus does come back, please tell him, “I’m sorry.” I will see either you or Rachel when all is said and done.
Farewell, Brothers.
J.I
Matthew put the tablet back where it was quietly, careful to not disturb the dreams of his brothers in which Jesus was alive.
“When they wake up,” he whispered, “everything’s going to change.”
