It’s a small detail I’ve always overlooked, but I don’t think it’s insignificant. After the resurrection, only John’s gospel still calls the disciples the Twelve rather than the Eleven.
 
In Luke-Acts, the women return to “the Eleven” to report the resurrection, and the disciples later elect Matthias to replace Judas.
In Matthew, Judas hangs himself and toward the end, “the Eleven” go to Galilee.
In Mark, Jesus appeared “to the Eleven.”
 
But in John, Jesus appears to all the disciples except Thomas, who was one of “the Twelve.” It’s a remarkable, arresting phrase to read after the resurrection in light of the other gospels and to realize that in John, no one is missing. Judas hasn’t fallen headlong in a field, hung himself, or just disappeared from the story. In John, they are whole. They are still Twelve disciples, not Eleven.
 
It’s a complete rewriting of the gospel record and of Judas’ story. It’s an alternate ending, where Jesus really does keep his promise that he would not lose even one given to him.

David R Henson
(via biblicalle)

illuminirk:

we have no sign of how christ treated his betrayer on a daily basis, you know. we do know he was trusted with money, and that they had no idea it would be him. when it was said that one of their number would betray their lord, not one of them nodded sagely and said “i knew it, it’s judas.” not one of them.

how easy it would have been for him to put distance there, to just step away, to lessen the pain and the sting every time judas looked at him. but no. no, not christ. it was always, always, always love.

there is constant agony over the knowledge that jesus CHOSE him. a crowd, a following, all of israel to chose to be one of his closest friends, and jesus looked at the multitude and met the eyes of the one with a greedy heart and jealous mind and he said “that one.” he looked at his betrayer, the one who would commit the Sin of Sins, and he smiled and he said “father, give him to me.”

“let him be mine.”

“i choose death. i choose pain. i choose to let this one know my heart before he breaks it.”

he could have been delivered up another way. someone else could have told the priests — someone could have seen the group and known and ran to earn payment. someone who was unaffiliated, whom they wouldn’t have known and been so hurt by.

but no. no, jesus looked at him and loved him.

god made the job harder in no physical manner, only with love. and so no one has ever, i think, broken the lord’s heart so thoroughly as judas. because he let the serpent into the nest and made it comfortable, walked toward the hungry lion with welcoming arms.

in the end, it was also the story of us, betraying him who we had no reason to betray, and suffering the burden for it when we refused his grace. our redemption in the arms of him whom we worst offended. “while we were yet sinners”

judas is the story of grace overflowing, cascading, washing over us all. jesus pulled him into dances, had inside jokes, sat next to him at meals, ruffled his hair in the mornings, winked at him during sermons. judas was no outcast — he was in jesus’ close circle, his family. jesus stayed up late sometimes with him and talked about stars while the other disciples slept around the fire. they had dialogue about old testament verses and their meaning, swapped stories of their childhoods, kissed each others’ mothers on the cheek. judas heard his sermons and likely had comments, questions, ideas, adorations. (because jesus chose to lead him but judas chose to follow) they were blood brothers, until judas shed jesus’ blood, sold his brother for silver, did not listen when all the earth cried out. (all creation, all eternity building to this climax) (cain and abel) (joseph and judah) (yeshua and judas) (we’ve heard this before, we know how it ends don’t we, god bring the plot twist or avert our eyes)

most powerful of all, when christ washed his feet. kneeling, wrapped in a towel, and silently, gently, lovingly he lifting the feet of his betrayer to intimately clean them.

“i knew it, it was judas” never came from any of their mouths, not even from the mouth of he who knew. instead he smiled, and the kiss was only expected. “i knew it, it was judas” “father let him be mine”

“i choose judas”

ibuzoo:

i.
His name is a prayer.
Don’t say it carelessly.
Run your tongue around the letters.
Dig your teeth in the vowels.
Put it under your tongue.
Swallow it.
Keep it.

ii.
Pray for him while you wash his feet.
Keep his wrists tight in your hands.
Bite in his veins.
Listen to his prayers and repeat them.

iii.
If he asks you to burn, do it.

iv.
Kiss him on the corner of his lips.
Taste the sweat of salvation in the wrinkles of his skin.
Dried wine and old blood.
Divinity.

v.
When they hang him on the cross, don’t look back.
Don’t weep.
Don’t pray.
Bite your lips and count the silver coins in your hand.

– manual to love a messiah (r.m)