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Defender: As children we had little trouble understanding Judas. He was the most evil man that ever lived and that was that. As adults we still have a desire to see him so simply, for such a viewpoint neatly answers several questions we have. However, we have an uneasy feeling that there is something suspect about such a simple solution. Life, as we find it, is rarely black or white -- often it is a mix of black and white.

Yet the lure to see Judas as the worst of men -- or an oddity even among the most satanic of personalities -- is strong. It helps explain how a man might sink to betray such a one as our Master. Even the Gospel writers couldn't resist adding words to persuade a reader to conjure up the kind of personality that could only have been the creation of Satan.

If we can establish -- once and for all -- that Judas is some kind of immoral freak, then we have gone a long way in establishing that his evil will not be found in others. Most certainly we don't want to find out that such a spirit may be within us.

For this occasion let us set aside our stereotypes and simplifications of Judas and start with a fresh, clean page. Judas, like all other disciples, was selected by Jesus only after a long period of thought and prayer. Apparently he was a man who exhibited a strong potential for leadership. His native village was Kerioth, which made him the only Judean in the inner circle. All the others came from Galilee. For over two years he was a faithful and effective member of that little band clustered about Jesus. We find no evidence that he created any distrust or disloyalty within the fellowship.

That the disciples were lacking in suspicion of Judas was clearly revealed on the night of the Last Supper. Jesus announced that one of the group was going to betray him. This did not cause all eyes to fall on Judas automatically, as if to say, "We knew it all along." Rather the members of the inner circle asked, "Surely not I, Lord?" (Matthew 26:22). Even when Jesus identified Judas as the betrayer to the beloved disciple, there was still a lack of recognition and belief that he could be the one. And many within that circle had no inkling that it was Judas even when he left early from the supper to set into motion his deadly plan. Later that night he would bring the temple guard to apprehend Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Judas wasn't Satan incarnate. He was a person, with all the potential for good and evil found in any other person. To make him a satanic stick figure reflects on Jesus' judgment and the efficacy of his prayers. It's totally unrealistic in terms of our experience and knowledge of people to say that he was completely without a will of his own, or that he was the unwitting instrument of the force of evil. But then how do we explain his betrayal?

Some have said it was the love of money that caused him to betray. Tradition says that he once was a man of means, but lost much of it in following Jesus. When he came to the point of financial desperation, the thirty pieces of silver looked good, so he decided to sell out. This idea lacks credibility when we discover that was the price of any slave on the market -- and Jesus wasn't just any man. He was badly wanted. It has been estimated that Jesus should have brought at least five times the thirty pieces of silver.

Perhaps Judas was suffering from alienation. Being the only Judean among all the Galileans, he may have been rejected. Finally resenting his isolation deeply enough, perhaps he decided to retaliate by bringing the whole venture to an end. We do strange things out of revenge.

Again he may have sensed that Jesus was plunging into deep trouble and therefore decided to turn king's evidence to save his own skin. The chief priests may have assured him safety as well as money, if he would but reveal to them how they could lay hold of Jesus without causing a riot.

Still he may have betrayed Jesus from fear. Jesus could see Judas for what he was, even though the disciples remained blind to him. The Master made him very uncomfortable. He was driven to kill the one person who knew him for what he was.

Yet another idea is that he fancied himself a protector of the people. Fearing that Jesus would lead the Jewish populace into a foolish blood bath against the forces of Rome, he decided to end Jesus' mad dreaming of a heavenly kingdom here on earth by turning him in.

Or is it that Judas was the unwitting pawn of Old Testament prophecy? This was his destiny. He was the one to draw history's "short straw." Therefore, so be it. In this instance a question arises within us: Did our God of mercy turn his back to make "things work out right"?

The most likely explanation for Judas' motivation comes from the late Dr. Leslie Weatherhead of London Temple, England. Dr. Weatherhead contends that Judas was a rabid nationalist, which fits the tenor of his home village, Kerioth. When he first heard Jesus speak of the coming new age, the new kingdom, Judas immediately began to believe Jesus was precisely the man for whom he yearned. The days, weeks, and months that followed were like a dream come true. Deeply he felt the emotional strength of his Master's teaching. Joyfully he observed the bonds of loyalty meld together the inner circle. Excitedly he noted the power of Jesus and the wonder of his miracles. Expectantly he counted the growing number who came to hear and see the carpenter's son. The passion within his breast began to mount as he looked forward to the day when Jesus would set his people against the Romans, drive them literally into the sea, and establish the Jewish nation free and unfettered from any foreign domination. How could Rome withstand the strength of this man of miracles? The days of King David would soon return.

Then doubts began to enter Judas' heart. Little ones at first, then later larger, more persistent ones. He was disturbed by Jesus' soft approach when the times called for bold, striking action. It irritated him that the Master would take time to deal with ones and twos, when there were thousands to be marshaled into marching troops. He had the power -- no doubt of this -- but he seemed so dilatory. Imagine taking an hour at noonday to talk to an oft-married woman about her unhappy life. He should have sent her on her way -- he had more important things to accomplish.

Then came the idea -- the grand scheme -- that, put into action, would stir the Master into taking his nation's leadership. He would force Jesus into action by putting the chief priests onto him. Jesus would have to retaliate and this would start the process that would lead to the establishment of his kingdom, for no one would dare withstand the priests without attempting to grasp all the power available.

So it was that Judas, blinded by a dream rooted in fantasy, sold the Master for thirty pieces of silver.

How we despise the man who came to the garden so casually and so cheerfully met his Master with a greeting and a kiss. But if we understand his motivation, we can sense that for him this was the moment that the great Jewish nation would be born. He could already taste the glory of the new morning.

Then the unbelievable took place. Jesus didn't resist his captors. He accepted their chains without so much as a dissenting word. He ordered his followers to lay down their arms, and he accepted his fate. Judas could not believe what he witnessed. It just couldn't be true. Slowly it crashed in upon his mind that he didn't really understand Jesus. What he wanted from Jesus was a leader to accomplish his own personal dreams and ambitions. He didn't want Jesus for who he was. He had sided with Jesus to use him. And in his effort to use him, he would take his life.

When the weight of truth fell upon Judas, he decided he couldn't live with himself. In one account we read that he hanged himself on one of that dry land's knobby trees. In another that he threw himself down from some stony precipice upon sharp rocks below that tore out his bowels.

The greatest tragedy of his life is not his betrayal, but his failure to turn to the Master for forgiveness and healing. With his eyes Judas had seen the Master forgive others, but he never grasped that it was possible for him as well.

He stood in the presence of beauty and chose not to see.

He stood in the presence of truth and chose to believe a lie.

He stood in the presence of hope and chose destruction.

Mary Todd Lincoln dressed down the President's guard: "Where were you? You had no business being careless." Then she paused, "It's not you I can't forgive; it's the assassin."

Then Tad, the President's son, spoke up, "If Pa had lived, he would have forgiven the man who shot him. Pa forgave everybody."

So did our Lord.

Judas failed to believe his Master's word. That is the legacy we need to destroy -- not the man himself.