Judas looked so different- a hard and crazy gleam stabbing out of his eyes. Was this the man with whom I shared a blanket on the mountainside as we slept next to the twelve baskets of bread and fish left over after feeding five thousand?

Judas was as full of life as any of us, then. Simple peasants and shepherds sat in fifties as we fed them the food that Jesus had blessed, broken and handed on to us. But the fifty gathered in that garden of darkness were battle-hardened centurions, not wide-eyed, hungry peasants. And the planes of Judas' face looked like shadow and stone instead of flesh.

I had been completely asleep when they came. I know that Jesus had asked us to stay awake. I wanted to. But I was so tired- the hours of tension and fear had drained me.

Even now it all seems like dream- something from which I might at any moment awaken.
I pray to…God?... that I might wake up. Let this nightmare pass from me.

And what was that business with the bread on the last night- "broken for you," he said. And the wine in the cup that he passed around- "my blood shed for you?" Blood?

And then there was blood, warm blood that splashed on my arm and ran down to my wrist. At first I thought I had been struck by one of the soldiers. But there was no pain, only yelling and a struggle - next to me. Had Jesus be struck down? No, it was a servant standing next to him- the man's ear was almost cut off. That fool, Peter, had found a rusty sword somewhere. Jesus made him put it down.

But who knew what effect that impetuous provocation might have had. Jesus had said that Peter would be the rock on which he would build his church- I thought in the garden that Peter would more likely be the death of us all. I wasn't sticking around to find out. When the soldiers looked away, I slipped into the night and ran in the dark. I ran down into the blackness of the valley- as far as I could get from the light in the garden.

I didn't see the trial. I hear they took him to Caiaphas, then to Pilate, then to that awful place, Golgatha. I hear that the crowd had asked for that revolutionary Barabbas to be released. That's not so surprising. But then Pilate actually let him go! It's insane! Why would Pilate do that? If they hear about it, Rome will come down on Pilate like one of those giant stones Herod is using to build the temple.

It's easier to understand why Pilate would crucify Jesus.
Pilate had lots of people crucified. It was a good way to keep the populace in line.
Think about it: who would knowingly do something that clearly led to their crucifixion?

And Jesus was becoming more and more inconvenient, people were getting pretty stirred up. That might have been enough. People have been killed for far less around here for as long as I can remember. But I can't know for sure because… I wasn't there. I wanted to be with Jesus, but I was too afraid.

Now it's too late. Jesus is dead. Most of the disciples have scattered. You're the only other one I've seen since then.

Some say that the body has been buried in a tomb. I don't know how that could be- where would the payment have come from. Judas took all the money when he left us. They've all left us- Peter, Jesus, the crowds who had once come seeking healing- not even the lepers draw near after that night. What is to become of us?

What was that noise? Do you see torches?
I can't stay anymore- see to yourself…