The Traitor Inside - (Campfire Conversations)

Part 1 - The Preacher

A child was sleeping in the bosom of a bedraggled, beige-clothed, yet strikingly beautiful woman. Her name was Martha. The child was her son, though his skin was paler and his features more angular, like his father's. And like his father he could be awfully stubborn at times - hence the creases of exhaustion on Martha's face. The day had been long, and hot, but finally, after hours of battling with the boy over why he ought to eat the entirety of his supper, he had finished the last mouthful and fallen into a deep, sweet sleep.
               Martha looked down at him and sighed.
'Why must you have such a temper, child?' she asked the air between them. Gently, she stroked some of his dark hair behind his ear. 'You must eat if you are to grow big and strong like your father.'
'And to not waste the food your mother so diligently prepares.' Lucius' voice added, and then he was slumping down on the ground beside their small fire, which was crackling away with a most soothing sound by Martha's toes. She smiled up at her husband. He too looked tousled from a hard day's work, but managed to send her a quick smile back. 'And speaking of food, Martha -'
'I have saved yours, dear Lucius, fret not. Here.' and Martha revealed a full, hot bowl of pottage from behind her. 'A double portion, for a man doing a double day's work.'
'Bless you, dear woman!' Lucius cheered upon receiving it, although his smile faded when she hushed him and gestured towards the sleeping child. He rolled his eyes. 'Why does the child sleep so? He ought to be up in the mountains, watching over the sheep until sunrise as I did as a child. Joshua is left to do it alone this night.'
'Why have you left him with no helper?' Martha asked, more than a little disturbed by that idea. Joshua was not as young nor strong as he once was, even if Jesus had restored his sight to perfection.
               Lucius looked up at his wife, feeling quite annoyed that she would ask such a thing.
'I could not endure another night up there, after the last two.' he said. 'Are you not happy to see me back on flat land?'
'Of course I am, my love!' Martha said quickly. 'I only meant, but, surely, there must be someone who could stay with Joshua? Mephibosheth, perhaps? Lazarus? Simon?'
'Mephibosheth cannot leave Mary alone - not with three infants running around her feet! And all the other men are exhausted. Half of them shall leave for Ephesus tomorrow. They must rest well for the journey. Fret not, Martha, for Joshua is as capable of caring for the flock as any other.'
'Of course.' Martha said, looking down at her child again. Her husband began to eat. 'I must apologise, Lucius. I did not mean to insult you.'
               Lucius paused with his tilted bowl still in his mouth, and furrowed his brow.
'I know,' was all he said before taking another gulp of Martha's stew. She relaxed.

When the food was finished and the night silent, every nearby tent around them filled with their sleeping brethren, Martha looked up into the black sky and said,
'Why do you suppose Judas Iscariot killed himself?'
               Lucius choked.
'Martha, I am most glad you waited for me to finish my meal before you asked such a thing, else I would have died!'
'Forgive me, dear one. I am curious.'
'Well it is rather a heavy subject for you to be curious about. You ought not ponder such things.'
               Martha sighed, and mumbled,
'Do you say so because I am a woman, Lucius?'
'No, Martha. I say so because soon we shall retire to bed and I dislike waking you from nightmares.'
               Lucius picked up a stick and started prodding the lively fire with it. Without looking at his wife he added, 'What makes you ask, anyway? Judas Iscariot's death was almost five years ago.'
'Well,' mused Martha, 'not long ago, between the child falling asleep and you joining me, I was thinking about money. I know I ought not worry myself, - that you are a good provider and a dutiful husband, - but, but sometimes I cannot help but worry. Winter is coming, Lucius, and already our tent can barely stand, yet we have not the means to make a new one, nor the money to buy another -'
'What is your point, woman?' Lucius asked impatiently, still not meeting her eyes. Martha let out a breath.
'I mean not to sound ungrateful, dear one, but you see I was thinking of the cost of a new tent, which is about thirty shekels, and that reminded me of Judas Iscariot because -'
'Because that is the price he sold Jesus for.' Lucius finished grimly. He glared at the fire by their feet.
               Martha bit her lip while she waited for her husband to speak again, hoping she had not insulted him too deeply. But when the tall, slender Roman said nothing, the small, pretty Hebrew said,
'I am sorry once again, Lucius.'
'Do not apologise.' Lucius sighed sympathetically after a moment. 'Patch the holes once more tomorrow, and I shall find extra work. We shall not suffer this winter.'
'I know we shan't!' Martha said, glad when Lucius finally looked up at her. She glanced down at his sore hands, worked to the bone and raw, and said, 'You must not work any more than you do already, Lucius. Rest, rather! Forget my worrying. It is sinful and silly. Jesus said 'Take no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself', and I shall try to obey. After all, he foresees everything, and can thus prepare us better than we can prepare ourselves, surely?'
               Lucius hesitantly nodded, and said,
'You say 'take no thought' and yet, you take thought for Judas Iscariot: a devil.' His words held no malice, only curiosity. Martha fidgeted nonetheless.
'He puzzles me.' she confessed. 'I cannot imagine how can any man could spend three years in the presence of God and still reject him! Nor how any man could reject God so wickedly...'
               She sighed and stroked her son's head again. 'Judas did not only refuse God's salvation, but he brought the condemnation of the very God to pass, Lucius. How could he do such a thing? I once believed Judas had hanged himself for guilt, but now I think, if that was the case, why did he make no attempt to stop the evil he had started? Surely his guilt should have driven him to fix what he had done?'
               Lucius listened to his wife speak, baffled once again by her directness in dark matters. Roman women were raised to be dainty creatures: polite, well-mannered and sweeter than honey: but this Hebrew was entirely the opposite. Martha spoke of death and betrayal and hellfire as if such things were as tasteless as water! To hear such speech from a woman's lips both startled and refreshed Lucius, who loved Martha for her every feature, blunt and bewildering though she was.
               When Martha continued to look contemplative, Lucius cleared his throat and replied,
'Judas did make some effort to stop Jesus' execution, Martha. He returned the thirty shekels of silver to the priests, did he not?'
'A small restitution for so grave a crime.'
'He was only one man against a band of soldiers!' he reminded her. 'What more could he have done?'
               Martha thought for a moment, then smiled.
'I seem to remember one very zealous man standing against a band of his own brothers in the name of justice once.'
               Lucius groaned and shook his head.
'Hardly, Martha! I merely showed a distaste for their brutality, nothing more. I did not stop Jesus' death on the cross.'
               The woman sighed at her husband's obstinacy.
'It is not the result of an attempt that matters, dear Lucius, but whether the attempt was made in the first place. You stood against something because you knew it was wrong. Judas did not. After betraying Jesus to death he should have wept bitterly over his sin! He should have wailed for mercy. He ought to have offered himself in Jesus' place, or, or, or, well, simply cared! Perhaps  then, he might have died with some humanity left in him. But to hang himself,' Martha shuddered, 'with no reconciliation with the Lord, is lunacy to me. He died with such a heavy sin on his shoulders: it is no marvel the rope broke.'
               Lucius thought on his wife's words for a long while. She was not wrong: she was never wrong: so he eventually replied,
'You are right, Martha. Judas died a dark, empty shell of a man. I believe it is because he knew he could not return from what he had done. He had begun the execution of the very Son of God, for the small reward of thirty shekels! How can such a price even compare to what God gives to those who love him?'
               Martha nodded and Lucius continued, 'I think the fool realised he had gained a little, but lost an abundance. He felt no guilt - that is certain, - but he knew only hellfire awaited him for committing such evil deeds. I suppose he simply did not wish to prolong the wait!'
               At this his wife tutted and shook her head.
'The mind of a man is a strange thing.' she said. 'A very strange thing indeed. I fear the idea of punishment, yet you men seem to desire it!'
'I do not desire punishment, Martha,' Lucius said seriously, 'but it is just when a man has done wrong. Without punishments, consequences, this world would fall to chaos. I know you understand that well: our son has been rather unruly of late.'
               Martha looked down at their son again. Only a few hours ago she had smacked his hand for disobeying her, though she felt awful for it now. So, after sighing and shutting her eyes, she said quietly,
'I understand punishment, Lucius, but I do not like it.'
'Nor do they who receive it!' Lucius said. 'And God dislikes having to give it, but he does it so that we learn - or in Judas' case, because he had passed beyond the reach of grace. He made himself a bed in hell by his continual love of sin, and rejection of God. You see, Martha, to the truly guilt-stricken soul, every stripe, every stone is sweet, because it is fair. Deserved. But to Judas Iscariot, and other wicked men like him, no measure of discipline can ever refresh their consciences. It is as though their ability to feel peace, joy, even love, is seared with a hot iron.'
'I cannot imagine feeling such a way!' Martha moaned sadly.
               She hated knowing that every day someone rejected God and thus fell into hell. Although, such a burden of knowledge had become her drive to preach to every living creature of the God who offers salvation to all, so perhaps it was not an entirely bad feeling.
               'I am glad to hear you say so, dear one.' Lucius replied with a small smile. Martha raised an eyebrow, so he explained, 'I am glad that you were so quick to accept the Lord's salvation, and I am glad that you showed it to me. As you know, I once for a time accepted condemnation, because I knew it was a fair recompense for my sin. But as refreshing as that condemnation would have been, I soon realised - because of you, - that grace always tastes much sweeter.'
               Martha finally relaxed and, smiling, drew her shawl tighter around herself and the sleeping child.
'At last, something we can agree on.' she said.