[Originally published by Perissos, 2/5/16]
I’m not sure when I started feeling sorry for Judas.
Surely not as a child, when we’d boo and hiss at his betrayal in the colorful Bible storybooks. He hurt sweet Jesus, who always smiled and healed sick people. Judas was definitely the bad guy.
Not in high school, when my personal relationship with Jesus entailed memorizing bible verses, confessing my sins, and listing my concerns about other people’s sins. I would have been able to help Jesus see where Judas was headed.
In college, at the height of my legalism and perfectionism, I felt impatient about Judas. I didn’t want to discuss free will, God’s sovereignty, or any nuances. He was a selfish double agent, going after wealth and his own version of justice. It was unfortunate he hung himself, but it made sense.
During that time I did a seven-week intensive study program in Greece, Israel, Egypt, and Italy on the archeology, history, topography, geography, and artistry of the Bible. Even though we sang sweet worship songs on the island of Patmos, shores of Galilee, and Mount of Olives, I primarily used the trip to arm myself with more damning knowledge about the authority of God and the bible.
The last week of the program I encountered the Bacio di Giuda (Kiss of Judas) by Ignazio Jacometti in Rome. The way Judas pulls Jesus toward him for a kiss. It was unsettling.
I knew it was about me, but I didn’t know how.
Continue reading at Perissos
- Wrecked – sometimes God’s plan is terrible
- What I Did Over Summer Vacation – sometimes we make bad choices when we’re in pain
©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2016