The Tale of Freedom

By: Carol Molliniere

A/N: Yes, this time I have certainly lost my mind. If I die right after publishing this, I'm probably going straight to Hell. But maybe the evil side does have cookies…Hm…

Anyway, what I just did here is what would've happened if Judas Iscariot had not committed suicide. Yup, that's totally off the plot bunny pet store. Not many people actually write stuff about this subject, so I'm giving it a shot.

And yeah, I know my stories are beginning to suck a little...

Now get on with the show!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Bible. If others did, Jesus would've hooked up with either Mary Magdalene and/or Judas Iscariot. But then again, some of us (including me) don't like pairing Jesus with anyone…so yeah. If I did, then maybe the minor characters (especially those of the New Testament) would've been given more attention… (What? I read between the lines.) But I DON'T.

I ran out of the temple and into the vast desert, past the Garden of Gethsemane, where I had betrayed Him. I didn't know what to do anymore. My mind was blurred, my vision obscured. The only thing cutting through my head was what had happened some five minutes earlier.

"I have sinned, for I have betrayed innocent blood!"

"What is that to us? That's your responsibility."

I was only a tool, which was employed to kill my Teacher.

"I'm can't believe this!" I yelled out to no one in particular, just the desert plants and myself. "I wish I could just die right now!"

As if on cue, since it was dark, I tripped and fell over, hitting my head on a rock. The last thing I remember was the silence of the night.

Silence. What a perfect way to say it was my fault for Rabbi's death.

My eyes opened. I didn't know where the hell I was, or what I was doing here, or even what my own name was. "Did I just fall asleep here…?" What I did know, though, is that my head was throbbing. I looked around, looking for anyone in particular.

"Hello? Is anyone around?" I wandered around in the dry place, looking for someone, anyone. But nothing was there except for sand and these trees. Below them I found some water. I lowered myself down and drank out of it. I didn't know how long I had wandered around, but my throat sure felt dry. After that short break, I headed around again until evening. I wasn't sure what to do or who I was.

I stopped right in front of this wall. I couldn't figure out how to get through until I saw an opening right on my left. I sneaked over there for a bit before realizing that two giant doors made of planks were covering the openings. Figuring my head hurt, I lay down and fell asleep on the sand in front of it.

All the while I was trying to figure out just who exactly I was and what I was doing all this time.

The next day, the giant doors were open, though no one was going in or out. They just seemed to be going about their business. Or at least that's what I think they were doing.

"Excuse me, sir?" someone standing at the doors said. I only realized then that there were people standing right in front of me. They were dressed in clothing rather unlike mine, and their features seemed to be slightly different in nationality from the people from inside the structure. "Wait, how do I know all this stuff?"

"Uh, um, yes?" I asked, turning to them. "Who are you, and do you have the permission to step into this gate?"

"I – Uh – " I, for one, could not figure out what the heck my name was! They were staring at me, waiting for an answer. I had nothing to give them, not even my own identity. I was about to state that to them when suddenly I heard a name single me out.

"Yosef, son of Zedekiah!" a man called me. "What are you doing here outside of the city gates? We have to go to the Temple to worship immediately!" The men noticed him just standing there. "I'm sorry, sir, is this your brother?" one of them asked him. He nodded. "Yes, I'm sorry, good sirs. I'm afraid he gets lost often. Once, we were having dinner when he was missing from the table. Turns out he was out all the way as Bethany. Our father was not happy," he explained. "Alright," one of the men by the doors said, looking me up and down. "But we're watching you, so be more careful next time." I nodded, and stepped into the so-called city.

As soon as we had gotten a little farther from the men by the so-called "gates", the man turned to me and said, "I can't believe that actually fooled them! They actually thought you were my brother, 'Joseph'!" Then he laughed – no, more like guffawed. I just stood there, unaware of what was going on. "So, does that mean I'm not your brother?" I asked, tilting my head. He looked up from me, trying to recover from his laughter. "W-what?" he wheezed out. "Of course not! I just did that to keep you from getting in trouble with the Romans," he explained. "Unless, of course, you really get lost."

"I…guess…" I said, not sure if I should tell him that I was hungry and cold, had no idea where I was or even what my own name was. He held out his hand to me, as if expecting me to take something from it. "Philip, son of Zedekiah. What is your name?" I scratched my head. "Uh…" What was I supposed to give him?

He looked me over. "Don't tell me, you don't even know your own name?" "No, I don't," I blurted out. "There. I said it; I don't know my own name. How nice."

Philip looked at me like I was insane. "Don't be silly. You should know your own name." I blew a lock of red hair off my face. "I do; it's just that…I can't remember it, no matter how hard I try." He looked unimpressed. "You don't have a demon inside you that makes you forget, do you?" he asked. "Uh…what's…a demon?" I asked. He slapped his face. "Don't play dumb; even if you don't know your own name, you must know whether or not you have a demon." Then he put a hand to his chin. "Of course, you don't look like you're possessed by a demon…"

Then he looked straight at my forehead as if there were something on it. I was about to ask him what he just saw when he said, "That's an awfully bad-looking wound you have there," he said. Then he took my hand and led me somewhere, wherever he wanted me to go. "Come on, my house is just nearby."

Philip had called for his wife, Leah, so she could help me. She ushered the both of us into their house, and, after closing the curtains (they said no work was allowed on this day), they cleaned off my wound and put a cloth (they called it a "bandage") on it. After this, they were talking to each other about something. Every now and then, they would look at me, and I couldn't help but wonder about what they were talking about.

After a while Leah turned to me. "Excuse me for saying this," she said, "but are you one of the disciples of Yeshuah of Nazareth?"

I tilted my head once again. "Who?"

Philip rolled his eyes. "Surely you knew who Yeshuah of Nazareth was. He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed before Adonai* and all the people. The chief priests and our rulers handed Him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified Him; but we had hoped that He was the one who was going to redeem Israel."** Leah nodded. "That's what we had thought, being His followers," she sighed, seating herself on a chair, "but I guess we were wrong."

I listened throughout their explanation. "When did they condemn him?" "They had arrested Him the day before yesterday, and yesterday they had killed Him. They had buried Him in a hurry, since today is now the Sabbath, where none of us are supposed to do any work," Philip said, "like tend to some stranger we had met off the barren wastes of the desert." Then Leah added, "But we did anyway, since Rabbi Yeshuah had told us to uphold the spirit of the Law rather than the Law itself." I nodded. "He seems like an upright man."

"But where had I heard that name before?", I thought.

"Yes, but we had hoped that He was more than a man," Philip said, seating himself as well. I could tell they were disappointed. "Then who did you think he was?" I asked. Leah whispered something to him, and then Philip whispered something to her back. I watched them have a conversation with each other for about 5 minutes when they turned back to me.

"Forgive us if this offends you," Philip said, "but we had hoped that He was the Anointed One of Adonai, the Messiah Himself." Now I was really interested. Though I could not remember my own name, somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that the Messiah was to redeem Israel, to be the eternal ruler. And what made them believe that Yeshuah of Nazareth – wherever that was – could actually be the long-awaited Messiah?

As if reading my mind, Philip continued, "It wasn't hard for us to believe that He was the Messiah, though. He said many amazing things to us and performed miracles. He had healed the blind, sick, and lame, cured the lepers and the deaf, cast out demons – sometimes by only the words He had said – along with having fed more than a thousand men with only a few bread and fish, not to mention that His apostles had said that even the wind and the waves obeyed His commands – once they said He had walked on the water in a storm!"

Leah smiled wistfully. "He was such a great man; He even reached out to the outcasts. He would even talk good of the people around Him, like lepers, women, children, Samaritans, even the Romans. He had love for everyone, even in some of the stories He had told us." I felt like I had known this man before. But where?

Philip continued for her. "He even spoke against the chief priests and elders, as well as the Pharisees. He said that what they were doing with the Law was wrong, that they were blind guides and hypocrites. How believable everything He has said is." Then they looked at me more intently than before.

"Now are you sure you're not one of His disciples?" they asked me.

I shook my head. "I didn't know a thing about him until you told me," I said, "but I have a feeling I've met Him somewhere before." Then I went on. "When you talk good of Him and what He did, I feel a sliver of reminiscence, as if He were my friend. But then again, I don't remember if He was. When you talk of His death, it makes me have a weird feeling." I clutched at my clothes, at the spot right above my beating heart. "Like guilt."

"Maybe you were a disciple of His, but you just don't remember." Leah said. "Where did you get the idea that I was one of His followers?" I asked. "I don't know," Philip said. "But you look just like one of the Twelve."

"The Twelve? Who are they?"

"The closest apostles of Yeshuah," Philip said. "They followed Him everywhere and knew about His teachings. They would talk to each other in secret, and they lodged in the place wherever He would lodge." Then he said, "If my memory serves, you look just like the only Jewish man in the Twelve."

"Who?"

He shrugged. "I don't remember."

Philip and Leah had invited me to stay with them for the night, and I couldn't just exactly say no. So I stayed. And all through the night, even after this so-called "Passover" meal, I wondered about this so-called prophet named Yeshuah of Nazareth. He always kept feeling so familiar to me; in fact, so familiar I couldn't even put my mind to sleep about this.

It was already dawn and my brain was about to burn itself out when suddenly the ground shook. It was strong enough to keep me from standing up, but it ended so quickly.

Philip ran into the doorway, carrying a lamp. "Are you alright?" he asked me. I nodded, still in shock. "What was that?" I asked. "That was a rather powerful earthquake," he commented. He looked out my window, and a look of surprise came upon his face. Then he turned to me. "That's odd," he said.

"Not much damage came upon the city."

Philip had run out to check if everyone was alright, and Leah was assisting him. I just stood there in my room, wondering what could have caused that shake. And Yeshuah of Nazareth was still on my mind.

"Why am I so frustrated right now? What is so special about this man, that He's always on my mind?"

A gust of wind, a presence felt, my head turned and there he was.

A man. He looked to be younger than I was, no more in his mid-thirties or something. He had brown hair and a simple robe on; in fact, not much to throw me off.

Except for the fact that he had puncture wounds on his hands and feet.

"And those eyes…"

"Peace be with you," he said, looking me in the eyes, "Y'hudah, son of Simon Iscariot."

I wanted to turn away; and yet his stare held me in the spot. "Who…who are you?" I asked. He just grinned and said plainly, "Yeshuah of Nazareth."

"No…no, they said you were dead…"

"I have risen from the dead. Had I not told you that before, Y'hudah?" He said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I took a sharp breath.

And all of a sudden, everything came back to me.

I was Y'hudah, son of Simon Iscariot. I was a disciple of Yeshuah, this Man – no, much more than a man – standing in front of me…I was the treasurer, but because I couldn't control my greed, I stole some of the coins…I had felt that Yeshuah was not making too much of a move on saving Israel from Rome…I went to the priests…took the thirty silver pieces from them…and betrayed Him!

"Yeshuah!" I yelled out, backing away until my back hit the window ledge. I could have ran out the door, but I didn't. Yeshuah was supposed to be good as dead right now, and yet there He was in front of me, and I wanted to see why. "I can see you have not done away with yourself, Y'hudah, even with all the remorse you have right now." He said, taking a step forward. I shuddered. "Yeshuah…you're supposed to be dead!"

"Behold, I have risen nonetheless, Y'hudah," He said. Then He looked at me straight in the eye yet again. I swallowed, feeling a lump in my throat. "Are you afraid of me?" Yeshuah asked, moving closer. "I…can't believe this…" I clutched at my heart. "I betrayed You…something terrible should have happened to me. So why…" I finally dared to look away. "…Why am I still alive?"

Yeshuah smiled upon me. "Do you not think my Father still loves those He creates? He might as well have given you a second chance," He put a hand on my shoulder again, "and He did."

My eyes went to a hole on His wrist. "You really are…alive?" "Of course, Y'hudah; otherwise what business would I have standing here?" He said. Then He added, "And I have forgiven you."

I was about to say something else when at this point, Philip and Leah burst in through the door. "Sorry for taking so long," Philip said. Then both of them noticed our Teacher standing in the middle of the room. A mix of joy and shock came upon their face, and then they fell on their knees before Him. "Rabbi!" they said in unison.

"Hello, my children," Yeshuah said. "Peace be upon this house, and bless all who believe."

A/N: * - I think it would be better for them to refer to God as Adonai, since YHWH is too sacred for Jews to utter.

** - Luke 24: 19-21

So, what did you all think of that? I got Jesus's and Judas's Hebrew names from American Companion; but I kept "Simon Iscariot" because some people might be confused. Oh, and I don't know a lot about Jewish government and their ways of life, so please bear with me…? ^ ^; (Hard to understand politics anyway.)

Philip and Leah of Jerusalem are original characters. Any resemblance to real people and/or events is purely coincidental. (That is, unless they were part of the Seventy…)

And yeah, I understand why you would hate; I mean, Judas did commit suicide, and there's no changing that fact. But don't post flames; you'll only humiliate yourself.

Review please?