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The Barren Fig Tree watercolor, ink, gouache 2000 Ian Pollock, England EICH Gallery, Yorkshire, England

Judas' Mother

Scripture | Story | Prayer

At that very time there were some present
who told him about the Galileans
whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.
Jesus asked them,
‘Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way
they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?
No, I tell you; but unless you repent,
you will all perish as they did.
Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them
do you think that they were worse offenders
than all the others living in Jerusalem?
No, I tell you; but unless you repent,
you will all perish just as they did.’

Then Jesus told this parable:
‘A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard;
and he came looking for fruit on it and found none.
So he said to the gardener,
“See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree,
and still I find none.
Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?”
He replied, “Sir, let it alone for one more year,
until I dig round it and put manure on it.
If it bears fruit next year, well and good;   
but if not, you can cut it down.” ’

(Luke 13: 1-9)

 Scripture | Story | Prayer

Judas’ Mother

I am a simple woman. I cannot read. I have no fancy words or thoughts to offer. I am not like any of those Marys or any of those other mothers. I am not wise or honored like Mary the mother of Jesus. I am not bright or eager like Mary of Magdala, the disciple of Jesus. My heart is not filled with gratitude like Mary the mother of James and John who asked Jesus to place her sons at his right and left hands and, I am happy to say, did not get what she asked for. I cannot speak of the healing wonders of Jesus as can the mother-in-law of Simon. For I am the mother of Judas, Judas whose very name is spit upon by those who never knew him truly.

I have collected more tears than there are memories in my life. I carry more sorrow than regret in my heart. I hold more images than truths in my head but I think I understand Jesus better than many, perhaps better than my own son understood him. Before I say another word I should tell you, I cannot pretend that I do not see Judas as a loving mother sees her child. That I do. He was my son. I loved him. I adored him. I held the highest hopes for him. Whenever you hear of a young man who has done something foolish and has ended up in a dark cave of trouble, think of me. Remember that every one of those young men has a mother and clothe your souls with compassion. Jesus himself would ask no less.

My purpose is not to defend Judas but I think there are some things you should know about him. He was, to begin with, the only disciple who was not from Galilee. So right from the start, he was different and the other disciples knew this well. He kept the common purse for all the disciples but they never trusted him with it. And remember when Jesus was so hard on Judas after Judas scolded Mary, the sister of Martha, for pouring all of that costly ointment over Jesus’ feet? I think every one of those disciples was feeling the same way. In their heads, they were all saying, “What a waste!” Judas was the only one courageous enough to say as much yet they did not support him when he dared say it.

You see, the load Judas carried on his journey of discipleship was heavier than that of any other disciple. But, please believe me, there was no disciple who loved his country, his people, his faith, more than did Judas. His heart was filled with deep pride and with holy fire when he spoke of Israel. He hated the enemies of Israel, “the cursed Romans, who wear purple cloth though they spin no thread nor sit at any loom; and who reap and gather where they have not ploughed nor sowed the seed.”1

All Judas ever wanted and all he ever talked about was the salvation of Israel  - freedom from the emperors of Rome. He longed for the Messiah to bring the sharp sword of God, to build up an army so powerful the Romans would be crushed like beetles finally and forever. He dreamed those Roman pigs would be plagued into surrender as were the Egyptians by Moses. And Judas was convinced Jesus was the one. He believed Jesus would save Israel and conquer her enemies. Too late did Judas realize Jesus was not that sort of Messiah. Too late did he figure out there would be no sword, no army, no glorious and bloody battle against Rome. I was not surprised at all when Judas finally had enough and went to fetch his own little army to deliver Jesus to the enemy with torches and weapons.

Jesus. Let me speak of Jesus for I know him differently than do you and, as I said before, I understand him better than many. I will admit that much of what Jesus said and did was mysterious and I am not very good at explaining mysteries but when Jesus told the parable of the fig tree my heart was burdened with dread and I knew what he meant.
I knew what he meant as well as I know my own son.

Jesus had been answering questions about repentance. He was reminding those Galileans that where they are from and how they suffer is meaningless to God. What matters truly is turning back to God. Repentance is what matters. That’s what Jesus said. Then he told this parable:

“A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard; he came looking for fruit on it but did not find any. So he said to the vinekeeper, ‘See here! For three years in a row I have come looking for fruit on this tree, and have not found any. Cut it   down. Why should it draw the life out of the soil?

In response, the vinekeeper said, “Let it stand, sir, one more year, until I get a chance to dig around it and work in some manure. If it bears fruit next year,    well and good; if not, cut it down.’”2

I have heard some people say that a fig tree planted in a vineyard has been given a choice spot, a favored position, every opportunity to bear fruit. Some have said that the parable means, then, that we are judged according to the opportunities we are given. Others say that no one who only takes and does not give back will survive God’s wrath –that is the parable’s meaning. Still others think the parable of the fig tree means we have a duty to put more into this life than we take out of it.

All of that may be true. But, if you know Jesus, you know this parable is about his unreasonable expectations. No one expected more than did Jesus. He expected his disciples to understand him at all times even when he spoke in symbols and with veiled words. He expected them to work tirelessly, to trust God absolutely, to bear nothing but perfect fruit and to bear such fruit in season and out of season! Worst of all, and this was always as a thorn in Judas’ side, Jesus expected them to go out into the world as lambs into the midst of wolves. “Take up your cross”, he said, “and follow me.” Did he really expect them to follow him like lambs all the way to cross?

I tell you it was too much. It was certainly too much for Judas. This was not what Judas or what anyone else, no matter what they say, was imagining in a Messiah. Oh yes, I think the fig tree reveals Jesus’ expectations but what of everyone else’s expectations? What of the expectations of my poor Judas? Did Jesus really think we would be saved by love and justice without any weapons and without any blood being spilled?

You had better think long and hard about Jesus before you agree to be his disciple. You had better look at what he is asking because he is asking for everything. You had better be ready to bear fruit when and where he wants you to bear fruit, for he is a hard master. But he is not without pity. What I hold onto is the mercy of the blessed vinekeeper who reminds us that our God is a God of second chances. Our God wants us to bear good fruit and is patient with us.

You know, Judas tried to make things right. His disappointment in Jesus led him to an awful betrayal. I cannot dip that detail of his life in honey. But when Judas realized what he had done and how much he loved Jesus truly, he repented and he tried to make it right. He did. He returned those thirty pieces of silver and he told the chief priests and the elders that he had betrayed innocent blood.

They, of course, wanted nothing to do with him. They got what they wanted from him and they threw him away. They threw my poor Judas away but not before he had a chance to throw the blood-stained silver back in their wicked faces. Then, as you know, Judas threw himself away. But I cannot believe that God has thrown him away. I cannot. I cling to the words of the vinekeeper, “Let the tree stand.” I hold fast to the willingness of the vinekeeper to work on that tree some more if not on this earth, then in the far reaches of heaven where I hear there is redemption and where I am told there are no more tears.