the hand of god
"He who does not obey him will go to the fires of hell."
"Why didn't you go? Why didn't you go, Peter? The fires of hell-- what is hell? So what if you go-- what do you need your soul for if you don't dare cast it into the fire whenever you choose?"
i am currently judas iscariot-maxxing. he is perpetually invited to my literary blunt rotation.
i think this can be read in three ways. the first, which i've seen some reviews take, is a classic unreliable narrator situation. judas feels betrayed, hurt, left out, and is vaguely somehow schizophrenic enough to imagine that he is talking to jesus in that final last conversation, but is really justifying his own betrayal. he goes to his grave imagining he did Christ a favor. I am not partial to this. it reeks of classic doctrinal self-righteousness, judas the traitor, and i think it's nottt that difficult to see that this is exactly what andreyev is getting at. or, another side of this, is the position of w. h. lowe, a translator of the volume-- judas was jealous of the affection of the other apostles, wished to be first in the hereafter, and, lost to his mind, hastened his own death along with christ's. i disagree with this, vehemently, particularly as this particular author/translator (lowe) has no question in his mind that judas is meant to be the villain, absolute evil, nietzsche's ugliest man. the second is the kazantzakis route-- judas as an active and consenting participant in the passion of christ, and christ reliant and aware of his role-- to the extent that they could be considered collaborators. one thing i loved about this novella was the lack of speaking time we see christ receive. He is clearly not the center here.
And so Judas's struggle has to have some meaning outside the chronological, lineaer events of the passion. Not simply a means to an end. the third is the hand of god, and this is perhaps what I am most partial to. Judas acts. Christ acts. Judas betrays. God is all and is in all. Christ's feelings of betrayal are real. Judas's feelings of love are real as well. All do and must work together. He kills a dog, and believes it might be happier for it. He steals, and lies, and believes his deception created the circumstance for a helpful lesson. Perhaps I am thinking too much of Ivan's Devil (I am always thinking of Ivan's Devil,) but what if Judas, too, just wishes to cry Hosanna? Is it too much to allow him this-- to cry Hosanna while he pushes forth the tide of evil?
Was it evil? Was it malice? It decidedly was not. And so I think all three of those readings are simplistic, and really, the point of this novella is not to meditate on the purpose of Judas's betrayal. Judas and the Others, we read. Who are the others? They are condescending, boastful, jovial, kind and welcoming but equally quick to anger and judgement. Self righteous, even until the end. The disciples know, for instance, that Judas's pains and ailments, sicknesses in general, "do not come to a man by chance, but as a consequence of conduct not corresponding with the laws of the Eternal." And what is more, they are unashamed of their conduct (except for Peter.) Beloved, sweet, John is "cold" and cruel, refusing to accept Judas for his ugliness, among other things. These are the ones who Christ loves. Andreyev's compassion for judas is evident from the beginning, in the derision with which he narrates the other disciples' scorn and disbelief, the rhetoric of his uglieness, ungainliness, unfitness to sit beside the Christ. And Judas, who is ungainly, awkward, coarse, is cast as the parochial sinner, the outcast among them, they who have "unblemished consciences." From the beginning Judas is unlike them, yet he is also humble, open, yearning for some connection, and he is denied this repeatedly. We watch as Christ favors (favors!) the other disciples, leaving Judas on his own. Our Christ, who knows the heart of every man, thought Judas not worth a second thought-- or at least, Judas thought so. Nevertheless, Judas loved him.
"To all He was the tender, beautiful flower, the sweet-smelling rose of Lebanon, but for Judas He left only sharp thorns, as though Judas had neither heart, nor sight, nor smell, and did not understand, even better than any, the beauty of tender, immaculate petals." No, church-reader, Judas's heart is not hardened-- it is more sensitive than any, and Christ does not give him the time of day. But neither is Judas an innocent, a misunderstood-- he is a liar, proud, conceited, a thief, inveterate, unrepentant, and wounded, clueless, and naive all at the same time. He does not understand why his feats of strength, his passions, cannot win the love of Christ. Why won't He love him? He is as human as you or I. Maybe he is the devil. But "I saved Jesus," he says. "Therefore a devil loves Jesus and has need of Him, and of the truth."
It is easy to cast Judas as the one man in history who should never be extended understanding. Many are raised to understand Divine Love as endless, eternal, with some jarring, jagged exceptions that should never be spoken of. But I would challenge those so eager to paint Judas as a parochial villain to consider, for a moment, what it means to be excluded, continually, from Divine Love. Judas is made to be hated. He is ugly, he is stupid, he is given to absurdity. To be told that your ailments and suffering are your responsibility, your blindness is your sin, or perhaps your fathers.' I like to think this is Andreyev's challenge, although perhaps it is only just mine. I have grown to be unable to understand this, the refusal to extend compassion, understanding. Have you never been Judas? Truly? Have you never been the deceiver, only the deceived? Ironically, it is Judas who believes this of himself. I am so tired of the easy answers. The hard-heartedness, inveterate evil of Judas Iscariot. Was he not made so? We are so quick to say that the Devil may quote Scripture as well as the angels. Have we made an ounce of an attempt to ask why? We are afraid to see ourselves, is the answer we have come to. If we contemplate the exceptions to the eternal, forgiving grace of God, we are afraid that we will see ourselves.
"Yes, everything deceived him, even animals. Whenever he pets a dog it bites his fingers; but when he beats it with a stick it licks his feet, and looks into his eyes like a daughter. he killed one such dog, and buried it deep, laying a great stone on the top of it-- but who knows Perhaps just because he killed it, it has come to life again, and instead of lying in the trench, is running about cheerfully with other dogs."
We are meant to ignore Christ here, I think, or see him only through the eyes of Judas's loneliness. At many points, Christ seems more like a beloved pet, spoiled and hogged by the "beloved" ones, while Judas waits his turn. These beloved ones, too, scatter. I have read the Gospel accounts many times, but it takes literature like this to understand the weight of this. They scatter-- these men who have pledged to follow unto death, and they scatter like children at the appearance of guards. And it is these same men, and the generations upon generations who claim to follow them, who condemn Judas without even a thought as to his heart. And when Judas appaears to them, in the doorway, like Christ himself, it is these men who call him traitor, already justifying their lives, encouraging themselves that their lives are MORE important than Christ's, because they can share his message. A dead prophet is worth far more. Within days Christ was no longer a man but a story.
I have heard so many times that the Christian message depends on Christ's death, that without a Cross there could be no Christianity. Maybe, I suppose, and I suppose I lay my cards too broadly by raising an eyebrow at this. I feel deeply uncomfortable speaking about the utility of God. As a man, Christ represented love. As a martyr, He could become Religion.
So are we left with this, a Judas who was the only one to truly understand Christ's heart? Who recognized him when no one else did, who hoped until the end that He woudl reveal His power, who never doubted for a minute that He would return with the world at His feet? Who are the real traitors? Him who betrayed or those who refused to fight?