‘Stop!’ he heard voices echo behind him.
But he did not stop. He ran past the incensed Levites, escaping their clutches until he came to the boundary that separated the Court of Israel from the pavement of the sanctuary. Here he flung the bag with all his might and it burst open and the coins toppled onto the marble pavement.
He took the thirty pieces of silver, and cast them to the potter, in the house of the Lord!
After that he ran with heaven and earth slipping from his grasp.
May the devil stand at his right hand; when he is judged may he go out condemned!
There was no escape, no help, no counsel and no hope!
Where should he go? There was a moment of incertitude and then a voice told him,
Go to the valley of Hinnon.
He turned and ran, gulping for air, over the bridge that crossed the torrents of the Kidron, across the valley and up the steep sides of the mountain to the potter’s field.
Run Judah, betrayer of your brother! Run Judas Maccabeus, betrayer of your people! Run Judas Iscariot, betrayer of God! Run to the field of blood, dead man, old man! Run to the potter’s field, the field of blood, and be broken!
Where the two valleys merged he slipped on the cold clay, cutting himself on the jagged stones. He looked for a place and saw a gnarled tree growing from out of the rock. It was surrounded by rubbish and death. He could smell it. Turning he saw the origin of the smell, it was the carcass of an ass, bloated and swarming with flies and maggots. Death, yes death! Death to the ass! Death to the old ways! The old ways were at an end. Israel was like that ass! He climbed to the top of the rock, unwound the long girdle that held his garment and fastened it over a limb. He heard a voice:
Put an end to it…put an end to your misery! The wages of sin is death!
He tied the girdle around his neck.
Jump! Let yourself be saved from this miserable life!!
He went to the lip of the rise.
No mother will ever desert you!
He looked down to the jagged rocks below.
No woman will ever turn away from you!
He took a breath.
No disappointments will ever again assail you!
He let his foot slip...
Jump!
He fell!
But he did not fall far enough and was hung in the air, a heavy dying lump, grasping for the girdle.
His throat was cut off sharp, and his eyes bulged with blood.
He choked.
Pain! Horror!
No!
Not yet!
He struggled.
His tongue grew as big as the world in his mouth.
Above, the knot unloosened, and for a moment time lay suspended. In that arrested flow he saw Satan leave his soul, expelled with his breath. All the demons that had possessed him, in swarms were gone from him. All things were now different to his dying eye. He saw his entire life pass: the betrayals, his wanderings with Jesus, his baptism, his time with the Sicarri, his failed initiation, his birth and then…
Behold!
He saw a vision of Christ.
Now, for the first time, he saw Him! He was not an initiate, He was not a priest, He was not a king, He had not come to save Israel. He had come to save Judas’ soul!
He was a living God!
Only now could the future become manifest before his dying eyes.
‡
I was afraid and put my hands to my ears. ‘No! Tell me no more!’
‘What do you fear, pairé?’
‘I fear, I fear that I am him, that I am this man Judas!’
‘Oh! Many men fear this, pairé, but they would not if they knew of his redemption.’
‘Redemption? How can he be redeemed? He is the betrayer of betrayers! Does he not go to hell where every day is Good Friday?’
She laughed a little, ‘No, pairé.’
I was full of wonder, ‘Tell me then, what happens to him, what does he see before his dying eyes?’
‘He sees a solitary man writing his confessions in a quiet peaceful cell. This man is a good man. His name is Augustine.’
‘Augustine?’
‘Yes, he is born again as Augustine.’
‘Well that makes sense! I can see how a betrayer could become Augustine, one of the Fathers of the Roman Church!’
‘Now, now, pairé, don’t forget that Augustine was a Manichean before he took up the Catholic faith.’
I was nodding, for it was true. Augustine of Hippo had been a Manichean. I had forgotten that!
‘As Augustine Judas’ failed initiation and his betrayal of his people lived deeply hidden in his will, and drove him to betray his people again. You see, he turned his back on the Manicheans when he was converted to Catholicism and wrote his polemics against them.’
‘Augustine is the father of those men who sit below this fortress in judgement of our faith,’ I told her, ‘since the Dominicans took up his rule!’
‘Yes that is true.’
‘What happens to him after that?’