Consequences

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Notes/Disclaimer: Jesus Christ Superstar owns me, not vice versa. Jerome Pradon is my God. That is all.
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The irony of it all was, of course, that Judas was the only one who really understood.

While the other apostles stared uncomprehendingly at Jesus, trying to make sense of his words, becoming upset when he talked about his own death, Judas had simply sat and watched, his eyes filled with a resounding, sympathetic sadness.

When Simon had the apostles worked into a frenzy, grabbing up weapons and shouting their defiant hatred of the Romans, Judas alone had stood to the side, watching and shaking his head. Judas alone had known that this was not what Jesus had been trying to teach them. This was not the way to their salvation.

Judas was the only one who understood. Judas should have been the one in whom Jesus could confide all his doubts, his fears, his own unwillingness to die for a cause greater than himself. Because Judas got it. But Jesus couldn't confide in him. Because it was not Judas's destiny to know these things.

Judas was too smart for his own good. If he had been like the other apostles, his betrayal would have been bearable. If he didn't understand, wasn't happy with the way Jesus was doing things, needed an outlet for his anger and hatred. But that wasn't it at all. Judas had the best intentions. He had wanted to save everyone. He had thought that only through his betrayal of Jesus would no one get hurt, and that was what Jesus wanted all along, wasn't it?

Ah, Judas. While the other apostles were beating their chests, he was trying to scrounge enough money to feed the poor around them. And when the other apostles wandered off in confusion when Jesus scolded them for their violence, Judas alone was left, standing in the shadows and watching him. Always watching, taking in every word, and understanding with a dread inevitability exactly what was going to happen.

He had tried to stop it, through the betrayal. By giving Jesus over to the Romans, he was trying to prevent the very thing he was enacting. For all his insight, he did not perceive that. At least not at first.

The sight of Jesus's broken, bleeding body was more than he could bear. His tremendous intellect finally caught up with his actions and causality. It sank into his brain that Jesus was hurt. Jesus was going to be killed. And it was his fault.

It was more than any man should have to bear. The guilt, the self-loathing that a man of that intelligence is capable of summoning are unimaginable. A black darkness of his own making enshrouded his mind, and suddenly he did not understand.

While the other apostles suddenly saw with startling clarity what their own actions had brought about, Judas, like a child, could only stare in horror and shame at what he had done, not understanding, not wanting to understand. As the apostles had not wanted to understand Christ's words from the beginning.

There is a longing for the past. The other apostles wanted nothing more than to take back their actions, rewind time and go back to the point where everything was still okay. But Judas, he was beyond that longing. His grief and despair were consuming him, but his mind, his ever-present logical, damning mind knew instinctively that this was destiny. That no matter what he wanted to do or tried to do, no matter what he could have done, this was how it would turn out. And that broke him.

He remembered the dread with which he had heard Jesus speak the words, "To conquer death, you only have to die." He remembered the fear that those words had placed in him, the fear of losing Jesus to another world that he was not sure existed. He wasn't sure that Jesus knew it existed.

He saw history stretching out before him, like a black tapestry. He knew in the darkest depths of his soul that no one, save possibly for Jesus, would ever see it from his point of view. No one would know that he had been acting for the good of the group, for the good of Jesus. They would hate him, shun him, cast him out for eternity.

His mind, heart, and soul broken and bleeding, he found the only possible escape. He could not bear to live with the demons of his conscience. The thought that this evil was his destiny was too much for him to bear, and so he ended it.

He could take no pleasure in following the track that destiny had laid for him, even though he knew its necessity. Even though he, of all of them, was the only one who truly understood.


- THE END -
Oh God, that was hideous. Take me back.
or
Oh God, that was hideous. Let me complain to the author.