The Storm Within the Tempest

He passed by me this evening in the garden. He tried to smile but the tortured look in his eyes overshadowed any welcome from his lips. I looked back at him as he walked past me. I know this man. He wandered quickly beyond the oleander bushes and olive trees, then disappeared. The clouds above were gathering and darkening as they coalesced. I was too late to call out his name. Jesus, yes, that is his name, the holy man from Nazareth. No time now to catch up with him. My friend should be waiting for me down the path. I turned away to follow the trail meandering through the garden, the Garden of Gethsemane. There, a few cubits ahead of me on the side of the walkway were three men resting. I did not say a word but walked quietly past them. One was seated and leaning against a large stone. He gazed up at me. His wavy black hair caught a sliver of the moonlight that was able to peek through the ominous clouds. It is now more obvious a storm is almost here. His dark eyes tracked me as I made my way past him. He looked familiar. Was this Peter the man who follows Jesus? I am sure it is. I nodded but the man seemed to gaze past me, turning his head to look up the path where Jesus had gone. As I made my way past the two other men, I noticed they were asleep. My steps quickened for my friend should be waiting for me at the next bend along the trail.

My mind is troubled since my friend Judas has grave concerns. He too is a follower of the man from Nazareth. I was shocked to learn what Jesus had asked him to do. Five evenings have passed since the two were alone, talking in this very garden. I remember Judas saying to me that he would give his life for Jesus. Another disciple, named John, always addresses himself as the “one that Jesus loves”. But the truth is Judas is the closest to Jesus. I learned this from two women who provide food and shelter for Jesus and his apostles while staying in Jerusalem. Even other apostles are envious because Jesus seems to favor Judas’ companionship.

After his talk with Jesus, Judas wandered the streets of the city just to find me. And when he did, I noticed he had been crying. I offered him a cup of wine, but he declined.

“What troubles you, my friend?” I inquired.

Judas at first denies having any bad feelings. We both lean against the side of a building. Not a word said for the longest moments.

“Jesus wants me to deliver him to his dissenters,” Judas whispers. “I rebuked him. I turned away from him. He then put his hand on me. He told me that because of my love for him, I need to fulfill the Scriptures.”

Tears fill his eyes as he tells me he repeatedly declined to be the one to hand Jesus over to the high priests. I have never seen a man weep as deeply as Judas. He says that Jesus was teary-eyed as well. He told me that no further words were spoken that night, for he left in a hurry. Jesus called out his name, but Judas did not look back. Unable to rest at all, Judas walked the streets endlessly. In the early hours of the morning, he was stopped by two Roman soldiers. They questioned why he is disobeying the curfew law.

“I had no answer for them,” Judas claimed. He felt if they jailed him, he would not be available to turn Jesus over to them. Instead, the soldiers told him to find shelter, or they would arrest him if he was still walking about at sunup.

It was the next day that Jesus found Judas at the Mount of Olives. And, once again, Judas, without looking at Jesus, declined to betray him.

“Cast your eyes upon me, Judas,” Jesus demands.

Slowly, Judas turns to Jesus, raises his head and their eyes meet. Moments pass as they stare at one another as the East Wind continues to howl through the olive trees.

“Ani ohev ot’ h’ a, Lord.”

Once again there is a long pause.

“Judas, if you love me, you will give to me what I need.”

Judas bows his head, “Yes, Lord, thy will be done. I will fulfill the prophecy.”

The two embrace, as the cold wind encircles them. Jesus holds Judas closer to him, and quietly says, “Judas, you will be with me always.” He weeps in Jesus’ arms.

I have arrived at the place where I am to meet Judas. He is not there. Concerned about my friend’s well-being, I begin to worry about him. Is he safe? A few drops of rain fell upon my forehead. I sit on a small stump aside the path and wait. I fell asleep for several moments only to be awakened by a clanging noise coming up the path. The darkness hides whatever is there until it is almost upon me. Walking with two high priests and three Roman soldiers, is Judas. They seem to be in a hurry as they approach. The torches that two soldiers are carrying cast eerie lights upon Judas. I can tell that Judas had been crying. He moves rapidly as if being pushed by the men who are with him. I raise my hand to welcome my friend. Judas and the men look at me. One soldier thrusts the torch ever so close to my face before I can speak to Judas.

“Is this him?” the soldier yells out as he goes for his sheathed sword.

“No,” Judas quietly replies and he bows his head.

I stand there dumbfounded, not knowing what is happening, not knowing what to say. Judas looks at me briefly. His face is gaunt and ashen, just a shell of the man I know. Several drops of rain fall upon us. In the distance up the path, we can hear footsteps. I can barely see the figures coming towards us. One of the soldiers extends his torch. The light touches upon Jesus and his three disciples. I feel weak, I tremble. Judas gingerly walks over to Jesus and kisses him gently on the cheek.

“ Hail, Rabbi.”

I am cold, now alone as the clouds unleash torrents of rain upon me.