Judas

Judas

You may have heard of me: my name is Judas. Yes, I attended the “last supper.” But my mind was elsewhere. Three years before I’d been drawn to Jesus because of politics. I had been so weary of the Roman rule I was ready to do anything to foster rebellion against them. How desperately I wanted our land back under our rule! Jesus was so loved. Everywhere He went people followed Him. They listened to His every word, ready to follow wherever He might go. He seemed a great candidate to lead the people to freedom.

But He didn’t go where I wanted Him to go. He didn’t give anti-Rome speeches. I didn’t hear calls to arms and action. I wondered if I had followed the wrong man. But He trusted me, putting me in charge of the groups’ treasure. Dutifully I gathered all the coins donated for His cause. I bought the food and other necessities for the group.

But as I carried the money bags, something changed. With every step I took that money jingled. It called to me. “Jingle…jingle…jingle. Judas, just think what you could do with all this money!” No longer would I waste my time watching Jesus heal the mobs of people who followed him wherever he went. The longer I managed the money, the more it called to me. I began stealing from the group treasury. Just a few coins at a time. A few coins here, a few coins there, and suddenly I had acquired a great amount of money.

No longer did I hang on every word Jesus spoke. All I heard was the jingling call of the coins. “Judas, Judas, take me. Take me! Think of all you can do with just a little more money.” Before long I had gone to the high priest and offered to betray Jesus. In exchange, he would give me thirty beautiful, jingly silver coins! I couldn’t wait.

During that “last supper” I had trouble concentrating. My mind kept wandering to the clink of the 30 pieces of silver dropping into my money bag. I knew just the place and time to betray Him, when no crowds would surround and protect him. Oh, I could almost hear the clink of that money falling into my hands.

Jesus’ voice pulled me from my reverie. He was saying something about betrayal. All the other men started babbling at once. “Is it me?” “Not me, Lord?”

He looked at me and I quickly said, “Surely not I, Rabbi?”

He answered, “Yes, it is you.”

Clearly, Jesus knew. I gathered my money bag and left the room, hurrying toward my silver and my future.

Food for thought: In what ways do I betray Jesus by what I value, by my actions or lack of action? Am I being a Judas?

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