GREED

G R E E D
And Judas Iscariot, one of the twelve,
went unto the chief priests,
to betray him unto them

He wanders.

His feet take him where they want to go. He does not try to control them. He does not try to steer them or redirect them. That would require conscious thought and he has none of it now. He wants none of it now. At some point he stops in the desert and he throws up. A pig is squealing nearby and someone is shouting but he ignores them as he ignores his feet. He is uninterested in the world. His head hurts. His heart hurts.

His lips are bleeding. They are cracked and dry and bleeding and he can still feel them brushing against Yeshua’s skin and he wants to die. The devil’s hands are still in him, on him, clenched tightly around his heart and laughing in his ear. He can see him now, see him out of the corner of his eye and he is still laughing.

“Oh Yehuda,” he says. “You are now my favorite of all.”

His eyes weep, and he does not tell them to stop. The Tyrian shekels are still clenched tightly in his fists and he allows his fingers to relax, letting them slip and fall to the ground one by one. Each clink of them hitting the ground reminds him of nails being hammered and the tears come quicker now. He wants to die, but he is afraid.

The devil is laughing. He is laughing at all of them and because today he wins.

Today the devil has destroyed the world.

At some point his feet reject him and he falls to his knees, staring out across the desert and seeing nothing but black clouds. He lives now in a place that is dark and utterly void of hope. Today the devil has destroyed the world and he has helped him. He was the vessel, the tool, the betrayer, and it was with a kiss that he sealed all their fates. The savior will die, die painfully and slowly and the world will be damned all for…

… All for thirty pieces of silver.

He weeps. He weeps and he hates and he screams and it does not make any of it go away. He still kneels upon the desert and watches the sky begin to darken. Behind him on a mount in Golgotha the savior is dying and Yehuda feels the earth tremble and shake beneath him. He lets his head fall and he does not dare to ask God to forgive him. He does not dare to pray for Yeshua to forgive him. He is the betrayer.

He knows it the moment Yeshua is dead. The earth shudders one last time and then is still. The pigs are still screaming, the sky still dark, but Yehuda still says nothing. He has nothing left to say. He kneels upon the dirt and cries until he has no more tears and then he allows his body to collapse onto the dust.

He does not know what time it is when the devil comes back. He hadn’t noticed when he left.

“For you,” the devil says.

A rope hits the dirt next to Yehuda’s face. He stares at it, uncomprehending, and he can hear the devil laugh again when he realizes how confused the disciple is. He laughs and it is terrible and unending and ruthless. Yehuda tries to close his eyes, but cold hands grab his face, yanking his head up to look the devil in the eyes.

His eyes are red. They are the color of blood.

“I brought you a gift,” the devil snarls, a grin carved upon his face. His teeth are sharp like a wolf’s and he knows that they have tasted the flesh of man. His hands tighten in Yehuda’s face and he feels sharp nails digging into his skin. The metallic scent fills the air and it is oh so fitting. He does not fight the devil when he starts to drag him across the dirt. He does not fight him when his body is dragged over the rocks or when his skin breaks and bleeds.

There is no more fight left in him. The devil has claimed him and his own sin paved the way. The devil was in his heart when he betrayed Yeshua, but not his hands or his lips, his damned bleeding lips. Why would God let the devil take such a devoted servant if he hadn’t been already tainted?

He is thrown to the ground, the rope tossed next to him once more. He looks up with a weary gaze.

He sees the devil and his bloody eyes.

Then he sees the tree. He sees the devil smile and pick up the rope. He sees the devil throw it over a branch and tie it with expert and practiced hands. He creates a noose as easy as God creates a flower or a snowflake. It is his art, the manner of his creation, and now Yehuda cannot help but laugh, because he understands deep in his heart what he must do, what he is, what the world is made of. He understands and it shatters his mind into the deep dark oblivion of knowing.

He stands on unsteady feet. He knows what awaits him is worse than what awaited Yeshua.

The noose fits perfectly around his neck. Even when it tightens and squeezes and chokes, it fits him like a glove made only for him. Even when he struggles weakly against the pressure, even when he is gasping and clawing it fits him perfectly. It is the destiny that was laid down for him by God and brought to him by the Devil.

When he dies, the earth does not shake. The sky does not darken.

But Sin smiles and laughs.

He laughs so damn hard that it hurts.