Blood on my hands
a piece of poetic prose/ short story focused on the perspective of Judas in Luke 22:1-24:53
I stumble out of the temple, the contents of both the gathering I’d just left and a leather bag in the palm of my hand weighing steadily upon both my hands and on my mind.
A pile of silver shuffled around the bag that in the palm of my hand, this being the price I agreed on for a man that is important to me.
As I walk through the bustling city I rub the back of my neck, trying to work out the knots and tension that’ve come from wracking my head for solutions to the problems that I’d until recently been blind.
He was important to me??? I don’t know how to explain it, but the man that I met those years ago became someone I didn’t expect him to be.
I thought he would have been coming to conquer and destroy those who had been oppressing our people for years, but he has confusingly been to these people nothing but kind.
The Messiah was to be the one who destroyed those who had conquered us, but the fact that he has been nothing but loving continually baffles me as I make my way through the markets.
The coming days blur together as I try to find a perfect time to make good on this promise I made, to turn to these people the man I used to adore.
Throughout this time, the man that I follow continues to do incredible things, this is undeniable, but he’d done nought that would be a step in setting us free.
He used to be someone I’d have followed to the end of the world; somebody I would have said is worth dying for.
This man though, he’s someone that I cannot imagine standing up to a centurion, much less being the one who would uproot the romans for the sake of Israel’s dignity.
There have been many things that he has done that haven’t made sense, but the fact that he is not the messiah I know to expect, is for sure.
He continued to do miracles and would give teaching after teaching but throughout it all I paid no attention, but focused on finding the moment’s hidden opportunity.
Eventually I see my opening, my chance to make good on this arrangement arise, it would be after a night of feast’s bliss.
I excuse myself silently from the feast towards the end of the night, and I hurry to the temple hoping to catch the priests before they’d left to take their rest that eve.
After I tell them of my plan and how I can lead them to the man I’ve been following and bring an end to all of their mess,
Their excitement and relief were palpable, the turn in their luck they could barely perceive.
One last question came as I was walking out came out I knew how to fix, and I went on my way to give the one who had been my rabbi his final kiss.
I walk out of the temple gates, past beggars and cripples and consider the luck I had to give to the authorities the man in whom I’d used to believe.
The teachers, rabbi’s and soldiers all followed close behind, their excitement barely contained.
Mine was spilling out too, I would finally be doing something that actually helped set my people free.
After navigating my way through familiar street corners and I finally find the garden where I know that the rabbi will be, I tell the people following closely behind me to wait behind me until I give the sign that points out who is the man to be condemned.
I enter the garden with anticipation, and after a few minutes of seeking I finally see the face of the man who wasn’t who I thought he’d be,
And after shaking myself off I walk up to him, my heart suddenly beating as if I was somehow the one who would be damned.
As I excitedly neared him, he seemed to be chastising some of his more excitable followers, what for I can’t care as I approach him knowing what is to come as my heart seems to pound until it will fail
My mind flashes back to the almost three years I walked with him as I move closer to embrace him, I come within arm’s reach and for a moment everyone went silent as his face with my palm I caress
He looks me in the eyes and as a metallic smell coming from him fills my nose, I realize that he knew the whole time I’ve followed him that my end with him would be betrayal.
After what is an instant but seems like an hour, he addresses the situation saying “Judas, you would betray me like this? With a kiss?”
After that, the world went silent for me alone as I realized what I had become, a man who hadn’t done something righteous but cruel
Commotion exploded around me, but the world stays silent as I am truly struck with the weight of the things I should have considered but didn’t bother.
I manage to catch the flash of a blade and a scream through the haze that has filled my eyes along with my ears, but all I can focus on is that the earth has decided to drag my heart and stomach into its pull.
My God, My God, What have I done and who have I become, that I would betray my beloved rabbi for silver and leather?
That the blood of this beloved and powerful man I would gladly spill?
I snap back into my mind, and I realize that I had been standing in this garden by myself, time had passed as revealed by my shoes which had sunk into mud
I look down at my hands, and realize that they had been stained, the same way the pouch that laid in my bag was colored.
I realize with horror that my hands had been stained with this beloved man’s blood.
I run, as far as my legs will let me, and I find myself at a market that stood not too far from a place that had once symbolized to me hope.
I remember where a tradesman’s supply tent had set up, and as I had I hoped his stock was full, but I had interest in only one thing he tried to show,
But one thing alone I needed, and I walked away with bag not containing any of the money anymore but was filled with a measure of rope.
As my hands work the thick rope in my hands into knots similar to what had become familiar during my time with the rabbi, tears fill my eyes as I ponder this: will this at all atone for my wrong? Only he will truly know.