Perhaps Sherlock Holmes is not the most expected starting place for discussing a book about Judas Iscariot, but The Doomed Disciple owes much to Holmes' methods. In light of this fact, I thought it best to present an overview of these methods here, as if recorded by his faithful chronicler, John Watson. This is the final of four such articles, focused on Judas Iscariot. In the first three, Holmes discusses the validity of the gospels, Joseph of Arimathaea, and Simon the Leper. If you haven't yet read the first three articles in this series, you may do so by clicking the links below:
I hope you enjoy these fictional memoirs as these fictional characters discuss the reality of Biblical claims, using very real methods to test their validity. For your enjoyment:
The Case of the Dying Disciple: Judas Iscariot
“You had best explain yourself, Mr. Holmes,” Mrs. Hudson said, coming in with an attitude steaming nearly as much as the fresh coffee which she set upon the table in our study at Baker Street. “Why, to even suggest that the devil who betrayed our Lord was not a villain is bad enough, but to come out and say such a thing!”
“Come now, Mrs. Hudson,” Holmes said soothingly, “we must not allow our emotions to point the way until we have first consulted the facts, which are the landmarks upon our journey.”
“I dare say, Holmes,” I commented with a laugh, “it seems you were not satisfied with my initial failure to get us thrown out upon the street, and have taken up the cause yourself to forever destroy any good will our landlady has for us.”
'Not at all, Watson, not at all,” Holmes said, pressing Mrs. Hudson's hand kindly before pouring her a cup of coffee. “It only seems to me that Mr. Iscariot has been the target of the cruelest slander for nearly two thousand years, and I am inclined to think that it has gone quite far enough.”
“Surely, you cannot believe Judas to be some kind of hero?!” I cried, starting from my seat. “I have read suggestions to that end before, and I consider them to be crafted entirely from unfounded rubbish of the worst kind.”
Holmes chuckled, steepling his fingers. “Yes, I have also heard dubious scholars claim that Judas was working under Jesus's authority, and it was all some prearranged plan between them. It is a theory which even the most brainless inspector of Scotland Yard could easily dismember. The opposing view is that Judas was overcome by the power of Satan, and was therefore not acting upon his own free-will. If such is the case, why is he condemned for things beyond his power to stop? To condemn a man who is acting under the power of compulsion is idiotic at best, and certainly unjust. Neither reflect the character of the Divine. Both must obviously be rejected.”
“In that, I agree, Holmes,” I said. “You intend to present some alternate view, I suppose? Though I cannot see how. The only alternative is that Judas was acting under his own will and must be condemned. You cannot pretend that his betrayal was noble! There simply is no other view to take. The church has been quite certain of Judas's fate since the beginning. Do you really believe they have been wrong all these years?”
Holmes shrugged. “You might ask Galileo the same question.”
“Holmes, you scoundrel!” I cried. Holmes had quite convinced me during the first few months of our friendship that he was utterly ignorant of heliocentric theory, and had emphatically proclaimed that the knowledge of such science was entirely useless. I have often wondered if this was the root of some elaborate prank, but had never been entirely sure until now.
Holmes laughed, clapping his hands at this long-awaited revelation. “Yes, Watson, I am not as ignorant of such matters as you once thought.”
I shook my head, fighting a grin at my companion, whose humor was often hidden beneath his thoughtful facade, but always present once one learned to detect it. “Well well, Holmes, I see you have played me for a fool.”
Holmes held up a hand as his other wiped a tear from his eye. “You will forgive me, Watson, I hope, for this little deception. Your credulity has often been a source of great amusement to me.”
Mrs. Hudson was less pleased at this deviation from the topic. “I should hope, Mr. Holmes,” she said, “that this is not another of your jokes, because I fail to see the humor in it.”
Holmes calmed himself. “No, Mrs. Hudson, I am quite serious. I was merely providing an example that the church has been wrong before. Not to mention the religious leaders of the first century, who have an equally poor track record, if you recall.”
I studied a few grains of coffee at the bottom of my cup as Holmes spoke, then poured myself another. “How the Jewish council viewed Jesus is another matter, Holmes,” I said after some thought. “I hardly think it possible to disregard Judas's cold betrayal. The facts are all there, scant though they are. Why, to betray such a man as Jesus Christ...! Dante places Judas in the center of hell, caught in Satan's own mouth, ground by his teeth, and destined to suffer the very worst of punishments for eternity!”
Holmes turned on me with a rare look of fire in his eyes. “The only truth in Dante's hell is that he finds himself there. What cruel and vindictive monster of hell must God be, in order to allow such perpetual tortures? The horrors described by such an abhorrent imagination could only be produced by a monster, and as such are impossible to reconcile with the divine arbitrator of justice who is presented in Scripture. If such sickening imaginings were true, then God would either be an impotent clown, incapable of stopping the cruelty, or a sadist who had the power to end the suffering but not the desire. Such a depiction of the divine is a mockery at best, and blasphemy in every sense.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “I never meant to say that I agreed with Dante,” I said in my defense. “I only meant to establish that Judas has, throughout the last eighteen and a half centuries, been considered the worst of traitors for betraying his most good and perfect master for no reason other than spite and malice.”
“You are quite right, Mr. Watson,” Mrs. Hudson agreed, coming to my defense. “I cannot comprehend how Mr. Holmes is able to defend such a traitor.”
“You have not heard my case,” Holmes said quietly. “Perhaps if you deigned to do so, the comprehension would not be so difficult.”
I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms in irritation, but I trusted my analytical friend enough to at least hear his opinion. “Alright, Holmes, let's have it,” I said.
“As you said, Watson,” Holmes replied, “the facts are all there. All the essential facts, at least. None of the gospel writers mention Mr. Iscariot more than absolutely necessary. He is mentioned as one of the twelve, at the supper in Simon's house—where he makes his choice to betray his master—and at the last supper, where he makes good on his decision. His fate is mentioned briefly, but nothing else. We know, as one of the twelve, he was also given power to heal disease and cast out demons. If he had strangely lacked this ability which the others received, it certainly would have been noted. He was as capable and zealous as his comrades, it seems. One can imagine that his betrayal was an unexpected shock to his compatriots. After such a bitter betrayal from a close friend, it is easy to see why they speak of him only when absolutely necessary, and then not in the kindest of terms. Any mention of him would have produced the most painful of memories.”
“That is all very well, Holmes,” I said coldly, “but that does not change for a second what he did!”
“No, it does not,” Holmes admitted. “But you can perhaps understand why such a betrayal would cause the writers to see only the worst in their former friend.”
“Because he betrayed them!”
“He did,” Holmes agreed softly.
“How can you defend that?”
Holmes gave me a stern glance. “Because in order to find the truth, I must consider any case from the perspectives of all involved—especially the criminal. It is a most vital attribute of my profession. I understand the reasons behind Judas's betrayal, and I believe him to be sincere.”
“Sincere?” I cried. “He was sincerely greedy. He was a thief!”
“No, Watson,” Holmes chided me, “even as a thief, we do not know his motives for taking the money. It is entirely possible that he was taking it to further the ministry based upon his own ideas, rather than those of his master. Though thievery is never commendable, his motives may have been sincere. As no facts are recorded regarding any specific instances, all we have to go on are the claims made by witnesses who are biased from their own pain of betrayal—however understandable this pain was. Mr. Iscariot was certainly not motivated by greed. If greed was his goal, he achieved it! Success never drives a man to suicide. Failure does. Despair does. It begs the question: in what exactly did Mr. Iscariot fail?”
“He failed in every way,” I growled. It seemed that Mrs. Hudson was inclined to let me lead the charge against Holmes, and had sat back to watch our battle. I couldn't blame her; Holmes was often more lenient with questions from me than from anyone else.
“More specific, Watson,” Holmes prompted. “What was the end he wished to achieve?”
I sighed in frustration. “I don't know, Holmes.”
Holmes's mouth twisted into a smile. “I do. It was the same goal as every other Jew of the first century: to see the Messiah take the throne of David. It is what every disciple of Jesus expected, especially after the triumphal entry. Jesus was the Messiah, but he was not acting like the Messiah which the Jews wanted. That was the problem which caused all the difficulty with the council. The entire nation of Israel was looking for a military commander to wage war against Rome. That was who they assumed the Messiah would be. Many would accept no other. Some, like the Sanhedrin council, rejected Jesus outright, claiming he was not the Messiah. Others, like the faithful disciples, believed Jesus to be the long-awaited king, but were content to wait and see what sort of Messiah Jesus would be. Judas, in my opinion, chose instead to maneuver Jesus into a position where he would be forced to take the throne.”
“By sending him to die?” I asked skeptically.
“Do you not recall, Watson, that Jesus had entered Jerusalem only a week before, riding on a donkey as predicted by Zechariah the prophet? His disciples must have expected him to take the throne, but Jesus made no move to do so. One can easily imagine their frustration. What Jesus does do is take command of the Temple, and the council is too cowed to make any move against him. Judas has spent the last week watching the council's cowardice and Jesus's sway over the loyalty of the populace. It is easy to see that Judas expected this trend to continue. He intended for Jesus to destroy the council once and for all, not the other way around. It appears, based on a consideration of a few facts, that Judas wished to place Jesus in a position where he would be forced to assert his Messianic authority in order to survive. Judas knew the only way Jesus would ascend the throne is if he was forced into it by circumstance.”
“But that's not what happened...” I said slowly, a pit forming in my stomach.
“No, Jesus chose death over war. It was a choice Judas never expected his master to make. As a man who truly believed Jesus to be the Messiah, who was to reign forever, the possibility that Jesus might die would never have entered into Iscariot's mind for a moment. Such an end was impossible! The Messiah was the eternal king. He could not be conquered. Jesus's death was devastating to all his disciples; they fled in fear and cowered in hiding after. They could not comprehend a future in which Jesus was dead.”
“If that is true, then Judas wasn't truly intending to betray his master at all, but double-cross the Sanhedrin.”
“It is the only theory which makes sense of the facts,” Holmes agreed. “It explains why a man—who supposedly betrayed his master for greed—failed to negotiate a better sum for his betrayal. Thirty silver pieces was the price of a slave, not the price to pay for a feared rival. Only an idiot would agree to such a paltry sum—or a man who cared nothing for the money.”
“Which he did throw away before his death...” I conceded.
“We're coming to that, Watson,” Holmes said. “Judas, like his friends, is devastated by his master's death. Unlike his friends, Judas is overcome with guilt, for he is the one responsible. It is likely that he assumes he has doomed not only his master, but his nation as well, by killing their promised Messiah. Imagine, Watson, if your failed calculation had doomed all of Great Britain to destruction—nay, not Great Britain only, but the world. The world, Watson! Such a crushing weight is enough to drive any man to death. Can you not sympathize with a man in such a terrible plight?”
“I... I suppose I can,” I said. “To be honest, I had not thought of it in such a way.”
“It is Matthew who gives us a final glimmer of nobility in Mr. Iscariot's end,” Holmes continued. “For whatever reason, Matthew is the only witness who mentions any details of Iscariot's last moments. Perhaps he, as a tax collector, understood better what it meant to be judged so harshly without any consideration, or perhaps he knew Judas the best. We cannot know for sure, but Matthew explains that Judas repents of his actions and goes to the Temple to make restitution and return the money. He openly admits his guilt. Clearly, these are not the actions of a cold, calculating, and greedy villain. The villains are the priests with whom he speaks, who coldly turn him away with mockery, believing themselves to be wholly innocent of any wrongdoing.”
“And he hangs himself,” I said. “That is not the mark of a noble end.”
“On the contrary, Watson,” Holmes replied. “In ancient cultures, any man who had failed in his duty so terribly as Mr. Iscariot would have considered suicide to be the only noble act possible. You recall that the jailer who had imprisoned the apostles Paul and Silas was ready to throw himself on his sword before they intervened. Hara-kiri is still practiced in Japan, and is considered to be a way to regain honor when it has been lost. We have worked cases here in England where a man has attempted suicide rather than face the indignity of a public trial. I do not agree with the practice, but it is only modern sentiments that consider it to be an act of dishonor in such a case.”
“And human sacrifice was considered noble by many ancient cultures as well,” I said dryly.
“And some current ones,” Holmes admitted. “I merely wish to provide perspective for Judas's actions. I do not take it upon myself to judge the morality of them. I believe it a terrible pity that he did not wait a few days before taking such drastic steps. If his actions were sincere, as I believe them to be—albeit misguided—I think it likely that he would have regained his place among the twelve. However, with his friends entirely against him, his master dead, and his fellow conspirators offering him nothing but disdain, it is easy to see why he acted as he did. Only one man on earth would have forgiven him for what he did, and Judas had killed that man.”
“But Jesus called him the Son of Perdition!” Mrs. Hudson said, breaking out of her silence. “That is a name reserved for Satan.”
Holmes gave her a quizzical look. “'Perdition' is an archaic holdover with no other modern derivations, but it is related closely to the French word 'perdre' which means 'to lose' or 'perdu' which means 'lost.' 'Perdition' merely indicates the state of something which is lost. It is the assumptions about Mr. Iscariot's character which lend the word its modern, more hopeless connotation. The lost sheep mentioned in a parable of Christ is also in a state of perdition until the shepherd rescues it. The coin, as well. Both are eventually rescued. Perdition can indicate a temporary condition just as much as a permanent one.”
“And you think this is enough to turn Judas into a saint?” Mrs. Hudson asked, still skeptical.
“Not a saint, my dear Mrs. Hudson,” Holmes said, slowly twisting his empty coffee cup in his hands. “But not a villain, either. A sheep who had led his shepherd to the wolves, hoping to eradicate the entire wolfpack, only to see his shepherd fall to their teeth. A desperate man who made a fatal mistake. A man in desperate need of rescue, certainly. A sheep who has lost his shepherd. Lost his shepherd temporarily.”
“But by the time his shepherd returned, Judas had killed himself,” I reminded Holmes. “Perhaps Judas is more victim than villain, but the end is tragic, nonetheless. He is still dead before his shepherd returns.”
Holmes's face changed as a slow smile crept up his features, igniting a sparkle in his watchful eyes. “Judas is dead, yes,” he admitted, “but for his shepherd, death is no obstacle.”
I could not help but mirror Holmes's smile as he reminded me of this truth. “Holmes, I must admit that you have given me a new perspective to consider. I look forward to—”
I paused as Holmes held up a hand. “It appears that our discussion may be over,” he said, cocking his head. “I hear a foot upon the stair.”
Mrs. Hudson stood to see who our guest could be. She reached the door just as Inspector Lestrade opened it. “Pardon the intrusion, Mr. Holmes,” he said, pulling his cap from his head. “I didn't mean to interrupt your breakfast.”
“Not at all, Lestrade,” Holmes said, familiar fire igniting in his eyes. “What seems to be the trouble?”
The bulldog of an inspector licked his chops. “I'm afraid there's been a murder, sir. We would be obliged if you could give us a clue.”
Holmes stood, his smile widening as he gripped the inspector's arm. “Allow me only a moment to throw on a coat, inspector. Not to fear; justice shall prevail,” he said, glancing back at me with a twinkle, “and death is no obstacle.”
For more information on these people or my novels, check out these links:
The Doomed Disciple, by Paul Campbell
Grayscale by Paul Campbell
The Complete Annotated Sherlock Holmes, by William S. Baring-Gould
Cold-Case Christianity, by J. Warner Wallace
Jesus through Middle Eastern Eyes, by Kenneth E. Bailey
I must give significant credit for this article and The Doomed Disciple to the late Kenneth E. Bailey, whose research and insights into the gospels through the lens of this cultural perspective help shed new light on familiar stories, adding important details that Western cultures have often left in obscurity. I highly recommend the book to any armchair detectives with an interest in the gospel accounts or the parables of Jesus Christ.
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