So Wrong!

by John Comer

I never thought it would come to this. I’ve always been pretty good at figuring all the angles. I thought I could come out on top in almost any situation where money was concerned. I was wrong. So wrong.

There was so much potential for gain, but Jesus of Nazareth was just not the kind of man to exploit the possibilities. He always had his head in the clouds, with no real interest in getting ahead. My relationship with him was a disaster. Misplaced confidence, plain and simple. He meant well, but was very naive when it came to the value of money. No one could ever question his innate goodness, but he was not success-oriented at all. I risked my future with this good but ineffective man. I was wrong.

But let me back up in my story. I am Judas ish Kerioth. Both my father and I use the name of our southern village, Kerioth, in our name, so I’m usually known as Judas Iscariot, a name I have worn with pride. I had always hoped that when people heard the name of Judas Iscariot, they would admire the man who came from an impoverished village and became an outstanding financial success. But I was wrong. Jesus failed me. I will never be rich.

I always thought that Jesus made a smart move when he selected me as an apostle, and it was only logical that I should be treasurer for the group. If Jesus had been as astute politically as I am with money, he would be a wealthy, powerful man with twelve rich associates. As it is, he is a mutilated corpse with twelve confused and poor former followers left behind. He was wrong. I was wrong to stay with him as long as I did.

It never bothered me to appropriate funds from our treasury for my own use. I deserved more. Only last week Jesus let a wretched woman pour out a whole year’s wages worth of perfume. I could have used that money.

For quite some time I’d been wondering how to come out of this debacle with at least some money in my pocket. At supper in the upper room, I realized Jesus had seen through my intentions. I knew I had to make my move, so  I went straight to his enemies, and I asked, “What are you willing to give me?” Jesus owed me, and I collected. But thirty pieces of silver for his life? He was an innocent man. He did not deserve the cross. I sinned. I reject their blood money. So wrong! What is left for me now? A piece of rope?