The ideology of Judas and his betrayal of Jesus

Judas betrayed Jesus because his ideology clouded how he saw the Messiah

Judas betrayed Jesus. Then filled with remorse, he went and hanged himself. He obviously was not expecting Jesus to be arrested, or for things to go the way they did. His name is the traitor.
But why would he do this?
He had walked with Jesus for three years. He had heard the teaching and seen the miracles. He was part of the inner circle.
He betrayed Jesus for 30 pieces of silver, which was a good chunk of change, but it wasn't all that much. It wasn't for the money. And it is clear from the Biblical stories, the outcome was not what Judas expected.
It even seems that Jesus was egging him on in some ways.
The religious leaders wanted rid of Jesus, and they were looking for a way to make that happen. They were also well aware of the politics of the situation. It would be a public relations nightmare if they did anything to him. They needed someone to “lay the charge.” They needed an excuse, and they wanted the hated Romans to do the deed so they would appear innocent.
If it was one of his own disciples who betrayed him, that was even better, so they were happy to pay whatever price was needed. It seems Judas did what God wanted in some ways, it wasn't necessary for it to be him. That doesn't get him off the hook.
He still betrayed Jesus. But the question remains. Why? What could his motivation really have been?
It's always intrigued me, what happened after the betrayal.
Judas and many others of the day wanted Jesus to overthrow Rome. They wanted the Messiah to come, but they had formed the idea that the primary duty of the Messiah was to overthrow Rome and set up the kingdom of Israel again. Since that was what they wanted, and indeed that is part of the Old Testament prophecy, they had no room for any other kind of Messiah. Their anti-Rome ideology colored everything they saw, including how they saw the Messiah.
Judas may have thought his action would set the wheels in motion. Jesus would be arrested, he would call down angels out of heaven to rain fire on Rome, and would then lead the revolution. Judas' dreams for his country would be realized, and of course, he would no doubt hold a high position in Jesus kingdom. He may have even thought he was doing what Jesus wanted.
He heard the teachings of Jesus. Maybe he even heard Jesus tell them that he would be crucified and that he had come for that purpose. He might have even heard Jesus say blessed are the poor, turn the other cheek and so forth.
But Judas was blinded by ideology. He had an agenda and the Messiah was going to fulfill that agenda. He came to Jesus with preconceived notions as to who the Messiah would be, so it was hard for him to see the real message.
Thinking beyond the betrayal itself. How did Judas get to this point? How did his ideology affect his actions? How did his ideology cause him to miss the message? Is there a message here for us today? How does ideology affect how you perceive the world?

My spiritual journey: The spirit against the flesh

Why must we compartmentalize things? Why do I compartmentalize things?
This is spiritual, that is not. This is physical, this is mental, this is spiritual. I was as guilty as anyone of doing it, but even as I did, I wondered if there was not a better way.
Changing channels on the TV. My inner world seemed that way most of the time.
It was easier I guess and that may be why we do it. Inner turmoil can rage at times. The desires of the spirit go against the desires of the flesh, and then there are desires of other people who want various things.  I didn't even know what I wanted.
Then there was the idea of good and evil. Like the Greeks,  I felt the spirit and the flesh were like oil and water. They could not mix. Everything in the flesh was evil, everything of the spirit was good. That is a simplistic approach, and it solves things in some ways but creates a dissonance that is hard to overcome.
There were mountain tops and valleys in those days. Hot and bleak deserts, but also glorious mountain peaks that were beyond description.  You don't really understand the mountain tops without understanding the desert.
Inevitably there was performance-based acceptance.
And detours into sensuality, which of course I thought was wrong because flesh was wrong.
Faith endured though. So many questions without answers, it was just easier to put things in their compartment and never let them mix.

My spiritual journey: Rebel without a clue

It all sounds negative in some ways. There were questions that had no answers. There was being misunderstood. There was angst in the things I did not know.  At least to some degree though, I did know what I didn't know, and I knew that was a good thing.

I was still attracted to religion, like a moth drawn to a flame perhaps. There was this God-awareness that was always there just beneath the surface. I tried to sort out all the different groups and all the different beliefs. Why would God be divided, I wondered, as did St. Paul. I gravitated to non-denominational churches, not realizing this in itself was a division.

Separating all the different theologies was the salve that soothed me in many ways. It is said a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, and in some ways it was.  I could proof-text as well as anyone, and became adept and finding a phrase that fit in with what I wanted to believe.

Debating various theologies, I learned how to defend my own and discredit anyone else.  Some victories and some losses, but it always left me wanting. Wanting what I'm not sure. There was still something missing. How can you know? was my question. How can you know God?  Even though I did have that God-Awareness, there was still something I could not define.

This caused some people to stop believing in God, or to at least stop believing in religion.

I never could imagine not believing in God. How could you not believe in something that is obvious? To me, that was like doubting the existence of the Sun, or the earth itself.  This was no cause for boosting my ego and it did not make me feel better.  It actually made me feel worse.

This was my scenario.
I know for certain God exists.
Religion must know God, at least  I think it should.
Religion cannot answer my questions.
God won't answer them either.

Frustration and anger boiled. Which is worse? Knowing there are answers and not being able to find any answers or just not believing there are any answers in the first place?

My spiritual journey: A dim enlightenment

As I got into reading more and studying more about religion, and Christianity in particular, I saw a dichotomy in the religious world. This was when I was in college, and just starting to see the whole wide world out there, and all the things that could be studied.
That included the Bible and religious literature.
It seemed to me the scriptures were about love and peace, about having a relationship with God. It seemed like religion - Christianity - was more about following rules.
By rules, I mean the rules of religion, not rules found in the bible. The scriptural rules are pretty clear. Don't steal, hurt others, avoid sexual sins and such. The church rules were different. Things like length of hair, whether you drank alcohol or smoked, seemed to be a big deal in a lot of the churches. There were also rules about music that some followed.
And then I read in the New Testament, in the gospels, about how Jesus was always getting on the religious people for making religion about rules and not about following God.
What really didn't make sense to me was what actually happened when you bought into the rules scenario. On one side you had those that were fairly blatant hypocrites who claimed to follow the rules but really didn't. On the other hand, were a more graceful bunch, who said you just had to try as hard as you could, and while you would fail that would be good enough.
There were those that claimed they did follow the rules and if you missed just one you lost your salvation and would go to hell immediately. I never took the third group very seriously. I did not approve of the first group so by my default was that second group. Just try hard as you can and that will be enough. Well it wasn't enough and I didn't like it, but it was the least objectionable of the options I was aware of at the time.
Not believing in God was not an option. I knew people that did not. But I remembered the dreams of my youth. I remembered a rainbow river where I met with God before I had even heard of god. As I have said, I knew about God before I ever saw a book or knew how to read.
But figuring out just what that meant, and what I should do about it, was hard.  I found very few people who even understood my questions.
Those things became a distant memory, and I think I was actually distracted by academia. Learning about God, the bible, theology and such, was very interesting. It was also fun to "defend" the faith
and my theology. It became a convenient place to hide. I put my questions away and went with the flow for many years.

My spiritual journey: Hope at last

I had tried reading the bible some, and even knew a few verses. It was hard to understand. Someone gave me a Living Bible late in my high school years, and that did change things. This was controversial at the time. The King James Version was seen as the gold standard, and some even thought the Living Bible was from the devil. I was a little surprised when I asked my pastor about it, and he said if you were reading the bible - even the Living Bible - that was a good thing.

And I did read it. I could understand it, and it was really enjoyable. I devoured it. I read the whole thing over a few weeks, and then started again. The barren landscape of my internal world began to not be so bleak. I just enjoyed the stories. I was beginning to get an idea about God and what God was all about.

It never occurred to me that these were actual stories of actual events. My first reaction to actually reading the bible was one of wonder and mystery. This mystery was different though. Before God seemed distant, unknowable. Now, it began to be knowable, but the mysteries remained. There was at least the possibility of understanding a little bit and that gave me hope.

Later on when I heard that you should take every story and every word literally, I just shrugged and didn't know if that made sense or not. I didn't care really. Just as I was well aware of my own internal world, which did not always line up with the external world, I felt this was a glimpse into the inner world of God himself. The stories were the point, not whether it was a literal account of history.

There was also something mystical about reading the words. They were different than other words. This was no ordinary book. My barren internal landscape began to bloom with color and shape. The rainbow river began to flow again.

The only problem was that it seemed like what they taught in church didn't line up with what I was reading in the Bible.  Church seemed focused on rules, things you did and so forth. Jesus said to love your neighbor and that was the fulfillment of the law. To me it was a contradiction anyway. 

My spiritual journey: Internal world

The anger simmered in the late teen years. Soothed by music, but still it was there just under the surface. I didn't know it at the time, but I had ADHD, and that caused issues in dealing with the material world. They thought I was lazy and not paying attention. I was really just bored and wished they would get to the point. Classes in school were frightfully boring. History almost got interesting, and creative writing was fun. Beyond that, I didn't care much.

I didn't at first know what the more important things were, but I was beginning to see my own internal world. The landscape of my own imagination, my own take on the world, and often the rest was just noise. The music would take me there, and to some extent I even made my own. I understood the spirituality of music. It was something that could transport me back to the rainbow river at times, but that was becoming just a faded memory. A nebulous thing of feeling good ant not knowing or caring why. I thought it was just the music.

After the Beatles broke up, they were doing individual albums. George Harrison – all spiritual and eastern influenced – made some great music. His song My Sweet Lord became my anthem.

These lyrics ..

I really want to see you
Really want to be with you
Really want to see you, Lord
But it takes so long, my Lord

That was how I felt, but how to do that? My internal landscape was barren, and while music was an oasis, it tended to dry up at times. The song stayed with me, haunting me. Church had rules and external trappings that could make you look religious. Harrison seemed to be on to something, but even he lamented that it took so long. So the search continued, and music was a huge part of that.

Church was about how people acted - the external aspects. I was more interested in learning about God - about relating to my internal world, but seemed unable to find a way to do so. It just seemed the internal world should be first, and the external world would be a natural reflection of that. That was the cause of the dissonance, or disconnect I had with the church. 

My Spiritual Journey: The long road

For years my world was a desert, but there was music, and that was what sustained me.

For a long time it seemed rules were all that there was. God was a mean guy in the sky that would smack you down if you sinned. Or at least send you to hell when you died, so you better not die. We were told to get saved and then be good. Or maybe you had to be good first and then be saved. But being good just involved avoiding certain sins. It seemed like a lot of times it was more about not getting caught sinning than actually avoiding the various sins. I wanted answers though, not just platitudes or more rules. I didn't know what I wanted really at the time, i wasn't even a teenager yet, but it was more just wanting to know the whys and hows of things. Even then the rules seemed like an easy answer to a complex question.

I did feel guilty though and perhaps that was what the rules were for. But my guilt was more than the rules. I wasn't smoking, drinking or whatever else there was. The casual eye I was a basic good kid that went to church and did well in school.  I wasn't a problem for the adult authorities. Inside was a very different story.

Overwhelming guilt and shame that soon came to live inside me. Secrets on many levels.

Some things I felt guilty for were not even my doing.  Seeing things no one should see before my teen years began, and secretly enjoying some of the sins of others. These were things no one talked about, and I sure didn't want to talk about it.  Sneaking peeks at forbidden things. Emotions smothering me from all sides. There was no one to turn to.

There were my little secrets. Only they would not have been little if anyone had known. I used to cry out to God for some sort of sense out of all of this. But there were no answers. There was humiliation around every corner. Someone who knew the secrets of things behind closed doors, knew my connection. Mutual embarrassment ensued whenever we would meet. I had to keep secrets. I did, and I even started keeping them from myself by erasing any traces  of things that happened in secret.

That was my own private battle. Much too complicated for me and certainly nothing I could ask anyone about. But then there was the social aspects of religion, church. I wanted to know God because I thought there would be some answers there, and I thought church would be the place to find it. I was mistaken.

The thing I saw was that everyone acted as if they were good, but they were not good. Christianity became a game. To be socially accepted, I did like every one else. I hid my sins, and pretended to be good. Some of my sins were not sins at all, but were just things I had felt guilty about. The hypocrisy of it all bothered me more than anything.  I also resented having to act like I was a good person when I knew I was not. I also resented having to pretend other people were good people when I knew they were not too.

I saw the human condition as one of weakness, sinfulness and despair. Yet religion's heavy hand was upon me. I wanted to know God, but God seemed so far away, so hard to understand. And in my dealings with most religious people, there was just pretending to be good. Now there were exceptions. There were some wise older women - older than me at least - who seemed to understand a little bit. They offered me hope.  A teaspoon of grace in a desert of sinfulness and guilt. It was a medicine I took eagerly, but they were the minority and often they were drowned out by the noise of religiousity.

I seemed miles - even worlds - away from the peace of the multicolored river of my youth. I could no longer see that place where i used to see God, and  could not feel his spirit within me anymore. I could barely even remember the river of rainbows. Were they just something I had imagined? Where was that feeling. Sunsets became just sunsets. I barely cared about the colorful mountains and fire in the sky anymore.

At some point I realized I would have to stop looking to others for answers. I was becoming an angry young man. They - those I had looked to as leaders - either did not know the answers or were refusing to tell me. I knew God. This was not what God was about, I knew, but even if I raised the question I got scolded or shunned. As my teen years began, I knew it was not God that was the problem. Religion just confused the issue - or at least the issues I cared about.

 Anger raged as the 1960s gave way to the 1970s. There was still some fear of the angry God who got mad if you sinned, but even that began to fade. People would say "God loves you." That only made it worse. What the hell did that mean? There were a lot of layers between me and God by then. And it would only get worse.

 There was a numbness that calloused over my heart as it sealed itself off from danger. Apart from anger at the frustration of not being able to find answers, there really wasn't much emotion.

 But it was there I found music. Dylan, Lennon and McCartney, even the Stones to some extent. There were others, but those were the ones that lasted in my mind.  They said the words I wanted to say. They had the feelings I wanted to feel. It almost seemed like they understood the things I felt. My anger was abated by their lyrics, their music. There was also the Allman Brothers Band. Their lyrics were not that much, but they had a sound that soothed my angered soul. The blues influence on 70s rock and roll became my savior.

In despair I was abandoning my search for God. Music at least consoled me. Still the emptiness was always just a step away. Late at night starring at the ceiling. Sometimes I would pray, but nothing ever got beyond the ceiling. God wasn't listening, and certainly wasn't talking.

I knew there was a hole in my soul that only God could fill, but where was God. How could I find God? Why would religion not reveal the secrets? Anger and depression began to rule. Music calmed me. If it were not for music I would not have survived. It was not the real answer, but it was a  life raft in a sea of bewilderment.

I started smoking in these years. The rush of nicotine seemed to fill me up and make me whole. I do remember one day thinking this was what I had needed. Thus began a lifelong addiction.  

My spiritual jouney: Descent to despair

The downward spiral began as the world unfolded in my pre-teen years. I wanted to know about God. God was the name I finally had for the rainbow river. The image of the multi-colored water was always in the front of my mind whenever we would go to church. I enjoyed the music and the stories in Sunday School. I thought I would find out more about the voice I had heard long ago, a voice that comforted me beyond anything I could understand.
But there was a dissonance that soon showed itself.
I felt the tug of church and religion, but when I went there, all I heard about was rules. Don't drink alcohol. Don't smoke. Don't cuss. The list went on, even things I had no idea what they were. Well I was a kid. I had never drank or smoked, but I had cussed some. I knew what that was. I tried not to cuss so God wouldn't be mad at me, and it was a long time before I would indulge in alcohol or tobacco.
There was a lot of talk of hell and burning forever. I didn't want that so I went forward and said the prayer, but nothing happened. Nothing changed.
It was all just so confusing. If you go forward in church and say a prayer you will be saved from hell. But then if you sin again, God will be mad at you and you will go to hell. So you had to go back down in front and get saved again.
The thing that bothered me most though, was that there was no emphasis on God. No talk about how to know God, how to learn about God. It was just rules.
Then to add to my confusion, after church, the men would gather and smoke on the front steps while the women did whatever it was they did before getting to the car to go home.
I still looked for the voice, but couldn't hear it. Even the mountains started to not look as glorious as they had looked before.
The rainbow river even began to fade from my consciousness.
Fear and despair became a cloud that pursued me. Fear of what I had no idea.
Even in the darkness though, a small light shined. Someday I would know what God was really like, or what the reality was. I knew the rules, but somehow I also just had a feeling this was not the real thing. God would make sense right?