The Absolution of Judas

Max knew it was a bad idea. He knew he was obsessed. He knew the repercussions were catastrophic. He no longer cared. He had spent all his adult life on this project and was going to see it through to the end, no matter what the consequences.

Max was fortunate to be born into a wealthy family a couple of decades before time travel became feasible. Once superluminal communication became regulated, he knew it would only be a matter of time, no pun intended. He also had high intelligence, high ambition, and a high EQ. In the distant past, historians would have labeled him a Renaissance Man.

One of Max’s favorite authors from the past millennium was Friedrich Nietzsche. He wholly agreed with Nietzsche’s assessment of the human condition and with history, and in his explorations, he even read Nietzsche’s works in old German to make sure he took in the most accurate representation of Nietzsche’s thoughts. Beyond Good and Evil particularly resonated with Max and provided the spark for his endeavors. Max knew he had the will to power Nietzsche praised.

Jews had returned from yet another diaspora and rebuilt their temple again. Muslims had set up another caliphate in the Western hemisphere. Christians the world over followed some prophet calling them all to a single faith order. Hindus called on their gods, Buddhists and Daoists meditated on their path and way, Shintoists reached out to their ancestors, and the myriads of other religious people performed the rituals needed to make their lives better, all unaware that they had the power within themselves.

The governing bodies across the entire planet ceased global wars centuries ago. They had collaborated on worldwide projects for decades. They finally pooled resources under a single authority several years ago. The time was ripe to implement Max’s project.

Max had studied hard, joined the right projects, raised the funds, and aimed his heart toward breaking the time barrier. He tested and corrected and hypothesized and tested again until he felt the pinprick of the first puncture. His company celebrated gloriously on that occasion. After that, Max spent years perfecting the mode and method that would allow him to enter the past, to remain protected from any aberrant disruptions, and to then return or project to a new time. Once he felt safe enough from performing small trials, he was ready to trust the technology. He was ready to make the jump to the distant past.

Leaving the present was not difficult. Max’s parents had passed, and his sister--the only one who sensed his deeper intentions--loved him, but Max had no patience in understanding her insistence on caring for the weak and sickly. His singular devotion squelched the prospect of romantic relationships. Sex was a game of power and politics for him. He was, therefore, free to pursue his captivating goal and comforted himself with the knowledge that in the end, he was going to free humanity from its slavish proclivities.

Max thoroughly prepared. He had no intention of reaching his historic destination and of being too far distant or incapable of action. His calculations showed that he would arrive within a few days and a few kilometers of when and where he intended, but his nerves made him check and recheck. What if they missed a time dilation somewhere? What if the motions of the Earth, the Sun, the entire solar system, the universe were significantly different from what they thought? He could arrive in the air, or worse, in the ground or out in space, let alone at the wrong time.

Max took a deep breath. He had all the apparatus he planned to take with him. He dressed for the time, wearing a tunic, cloak, belt, and sandals. He nodded his head to his team, directing them to begin the process. As the clock struck the time for Max’s departure, energy coursed into and through him, locking his spatial position momentarily while maneuvering him along a trajectory purely of time. He blacked out.

When Max awoke, he had a throbbing headache, and the glare of the sun aggravated the pain. “That didn’t happen.”

He stood up and surveyed his surroundings. Rocky hills with scrub-like cover and grass. The temperature felt warm and slightly humid. Dusty. A delicately floral scent on the light breeze. Gnarled and twisted trees in the distance one way, and a wall and structures the other. He rubbed his eyes. It felt like the right place.

Max noticed people passing through a gate in the wall. He spotted a path nearby that led to the opening and followed it. As he approached, he heard the language that he had studied. Granted, it sounded different from these native speakers, but his preparations were adequate. He could interpret the casual conversations he overheard enough to get the general idea that he was close to the correct time.

Guards in red tunics and metal scale armor stood at the entrance. Max expected that, but he also knew he could enter and leave freely. This was the Eastern Gate, if he was not mistaken, which was commonly used in these times. He peered through the gate and could see the wide, open grassy areas and walkways on the other side bursting with vendor booths and bustling with people and animals. A few trampled palm fronds lay against the side of the entrance.

Max could not believe his luck! He arrived with ample time to make final preparations to implement his plan, but not so much that he would be waiting years or months or even weeks. Celebrations were underway. He gleaned from the milling tourists it was the fifth day of the week. The festival would culminate in another day or so. If Max had believed in God, he would have felt God was with him. How ironic!

He checked his pouches. Everything had arrived with him. As Max waited for the day to pass, he got his bearings around the city. He exited through the Eastern Gate to make his way toward the mount where he would wait into the night. He walked along the groves of knotted olive trees and scoped out several places where he could hide and wait for an opportune moment. Again, he patted his pouches, assuring himself that he had not dropped anything.

The sun set. The night deepened. The moon, nearly full, shone brightly and cast sharp shadows among the trees. The air cooled, and a wind gust wafted the smell of sheep and of dung into the garden. Max huddled against an olive tree and waited.

Hours later, Max heard voices. A small group of men came into view. One detached from the others and walked farther along. Max drifted silently from tree to tree. The lone figure stopped. Max hid behind an olive branch a few meters behind him. They were far enough away from the other men so that their voices would not carry.

“I know you are there,” said the man. He turned in Max’s direction. “Do what you have come to do. I will not stop you.”

Max was surprised to hear the man speaking his native tongue instead of Aramaic. He stepped out from the protection of the knobbed branches and confronted the man. The man he came to kill or to rescue. The man they called Jesus of Nazareth.

“I assume it would not matter if I told you that you do not understand what you are about to do,” said Jesus.

Max took a step closer and pulled out the gun he brought. “Either you come with me, or I shoot you here.”

Jesus nodded slowly, and his eyes brimmed with tears. “I will not go with you. My place is here with my Father, and my time is now.”

Max waved the gun. “I can kill you with this. I can undo all the damage you have done.”

“I have not seen one of those,” Jesus indicated the gun, “around here, but I do not doubt you can end my earthly life with it. If it is my Father’s will that I die here and now, then so be it.” His wet eyes softened as his mouth curved into a gentle smile. “I am sorry this will not bring you the peace you so desire.”

Max’s face grew warm. “A slave to weakness and death as you always will be.”

Max fired the gun, violating the quiet. Jesus fell back. Max fired again. Red splotches grew on Jesus’s tunic, and he collapsed to the ground. Max heard voices nearby. The men with Jesus, not close enough to stop the inevitable, sounded startled by the noise. They would be coming.

Max approached and stood over Jesus’ dying frame. “I do this to release the world from your tyranny of weakness.”

Jesus gazed up at Max with tears in his eyes. “As I said, you do not understand what you do.” His voice cracked and wheezed with pain. “You have created a time paradox that will ripple forward and destroy all of the current Creation.”

Max smirked. “At least we will be free to pursue our will as we please.”

“You will not pursue anything. All of time and space between now and what your present was will unravel. When my task is through here, my Father will send me to that time to complete His will then.”

Max waved the gun above Jesus. “You are a simple carpenter from a backwards village. What could you possibly understand about the future complexities of space and time?”

Jesus coughed up red spittle. “I will return to Earth at that future point, which you abandoned, and hold back the destruction of time and space then. You may have heard of it as my Second Coming.” He laughed as if at a private joke. “I told them earlier this week that no one would know the day or the hour, not even me. Now, my Father, I understand. Because it is outside of time. Neat trick.”

Three men crashed through the trees, yelling and wielding swords. They wore simple tunics and cloaks like Jesus. Max understood their ancient Aramaic and Greek words, but they spoke too quickly and erratically for him to glean much other than their obvious alarm and confusion. One of them appeared ready to jump over Jesus and swing at Max, but Jesus forestalled them with a word.

Max shook his head and ignored the three men, fixing his attention on Jesus. “No, with your death, the world will never acquire its slave morality, and those of us who are ready to run the world well and properly can finally do so without any remorse for those who cannot keep up.”

Jesus chuckled and a spasm crossed his face. “Wow, that hurts.” He gazed with watery eyes at Max. “I keep telling you that you do not understand what you have done.” He sighed. “If you had waited until the discipline of temporal mechanics was started, you might have gained some comprehension, but humans have always been so impatient and ready to take charge.” Jesus turned his head toward the three men with them. “Sin keeps you feeling like you have to take control to get things to happen, to use physical force to get your way, to strive to be like God, but you were not designed for that.” He turned his head back to Max and smiled. “Your commission is to care for and to cultivate the Earth, to grow it and each other, and by that, to give glory to my Father, as it has been since the days of the Garden of Eden.” He paused. “You are not to will for power. You are to trust my Father for His power in His time.”

Max glowered and held the gun firmly pointed at Jesus. “Shut up!”

The three men jolted forward, and Jesus shouted a command, which halted them. It appeared especially hard for the swarthy, muscular man to hold back. Max felt like that one would understand him if he were not already enamored with Jesus. A man of action. Shimon or Petros was his name. Max smirked. Of course. The great pillar of the Catholic Church. Fitting.

Suddenly, Jesus spasmed and cried out. The exertion of his last warning appeared too much for his bleeding body. He breathed heavily one last time, and expired…and then just as suddenly stood up!

Max tried to fire his gun again, but it no longer functioned. “Aren’t you supposed to stay dead for three days?”

Jesus gazed at Max and smiled. “So, you do know the Scriptures.” He gave a relaxed laugh. “No, that timeline is over now. The traditional laws of space and time are dissolving. To use a comparison from a novel by one of the favorite authors of the one who wrote this story, the Arch of Time is crumbling. Unless you have read fantasy from around the turn of the twenty-first century, though, you will not understand that, either.”

The three men, who Max knew now were the fishermen Peter, James, and John, started asking questions. They lowered their swords and relaxed their stances. Max felt as confused as them, but he felt more tense.

“I’ll just travel to another time and—-"

“No, I think your time travelling is done,” said Jesus. “Your technology assumes a continuous, linear time on a compact set, and we are no longer in that existence.” He put a hand on Max’s shoulder. “I am thankful for another thing. Judas will not have to feel the weight of his full betrayal and my death this time.” He smiled. “I have always had a soft spot in my heart for him. He is a lot like Peter but lacks confidence. He is impatient, like both of you, and thinks he knows what is best for the world,” Jesus removed his hand and bobbled his head, “also like you. Peter has learned better.”

Max frowned and muttered, “I thought you weren’t able to save one of them.”

Jesus’s eyebrows raised on his smiling face. “You know the Scriptures quite well. No, with your interference, you have revealed another layer to that prophecy. Judas still worked to betray me but has not completed the betrayal yet, and he has not taken his life.” Jesus lowered his head and gazed at Max. “You spared him all that. I will have a little chat with him, and he will come around. All in my Father’s will.”

“But you never died on the cross now, and no following started, and—-"

“All that still happened,” Jesus explained, “and now all this is happening. Temporal dynamics. Not the easiest subject for humans to comprehend.”

Max fumed and realized he sounded petulant. “So, what now?”

“Now we join the Church, my Bride throughout the ages, as time collapses, and we participate in ushering in the new Kingdom.”

Max shook his head. “I don’t want any part of that.”

“I know, and I am sorry you do not want to join us. I would have been happy to have you there with us, but for that little bit about the prophecy you extended.”

Max’s eyes grew wide.

Jesus smiled sadly, embraced Max and kissed him on the forehead, and then released him. “Your actions will allow Judas to avoid being the one doomed to destruction, and instead, you will receive that role.” Jesus and his three disciples began fading from Max’s view. “You earned it.”