Sadness

“Cannot that mangy mongrel in the distance cease its bellow for one minute while I tie this knot,” the man hissed through gritted teeth and spit.

Sweat stung his forehead with what seemed like the pricks from a thousand tiny scorpions prancing near his brain; burning droplets oozed into his eyes and mingled with tears. A cupped elbow caught the pitiful elixir between heaves and watered his sleeve. The dog howled again; the man cursed himself.

A remembrance settled upon his mind like an old friend knocking at the door at midnight after a long journey; tears became a waterfall forcing him to abandon his efforts for the moment. “He had trusted me from the beginning…he trusted me for God’s sake.” His hands shook like reeds dancing at a river’s edge on a spring day.

The lonely man blew a long sigh through his lips and wept.

His life unraveled before him like a sheep’s intestines, slaughtered for feast.  “”He shall be praised”; what was my father thinking giving me that name? Maybe there was hope for me then; not now, not ever again.”

He had been chosen by the Master; called friend. Trusted. One of twelve.

“My God what have I done,” the man belted with such force the dog in the distance grew silent. “What have I done? What are the others doing now—they fled like chickens before a farmer with an axe,” he said trying to ease his own conscience, deflecting to the defecting. Once his friends too; all had left Him.

Unsure of what the Master had ever seen in him, the man simply shook his head in disbelief of his activity this night. “A kiss, a damnable kiss!“

They might have fed five thousand had not his hands been tarnished with greed. He used to help himself to the collection when none were around. A better tunic, a better meal; now a bitter meal. The thought now picked at him like a vulture supping on a dead carcass.

“I wonder where the Tax Collector is tonight, and the Zealot and the others.”

He’d composed himself enough to return to the knot; tied with deep sadness, a sadness only he could feel. Little did he know the Loud Mouth Fisherman would own a deep sadness too in a few hours.

Too many promises broken, he had rationalized and became angry.

“The Kingdom…yet Romans rule,” he cried to himself as his disdain of the Master grew. “Widows, orphans, lepers, blind men; we helped them all. What’d he ever do for me.” The breath of the Liar entered his nostrils; the breath of death.

Warm days on the mountainside flashed into his memory. Walks along the sea in which he could still taste the salty air if he let his mind languish. That woman on a scorching day as the Master sat by the well. He dreamed as his fingers rested.

“I never heard truth like He spoke it at first.” The knot now finished.

For thirty pieces of silver.

He sat with those who wanted death and plotted; “thirty stinking pieces of silver!“

The truth was, he had been a thief; maybe this is what happens to thieves. Maybe they think long and hard about life and it all becomes more than they can bear. From the secret place of the soul sorrow stirs.

Be sure your sins will find you out.

Now a dozen dogs were howling; what was the commotion. He craned his head to search the city for its cause.

White breath encircled his face as the evening drew colder and fires were started.

The smell of wine vinegar still on his fingers from where the Master had handed him a morsel; he caught the aroma as he tugged the thing into place.

A quiet parade had made its way into the Garden. The grove was familiar; they’d gone there often for rest.

His mind stirred with thoughts of Nathaniel and him in dusty villages; “the Kingdom has come,” they proclaimed. Even they had healed; even they had cast out demons. He liked Nathaniel; a good man.

The lights in the city were few and shimmered like fireflies in summer. Burning wood wafted above the city and floated like an unseen fog to the hill.

“Oh God I was wrong,” he lamented as the nape of his neck itched against the rope.

He had said the same thing to the Pharisees and flung the silver at their feet.

His body convulsed in fear; the precipice near.

A cold wind skimmed across his toes as he teetered.

Three denials in the dark in the middle of the courtyard.

The rope jerked taught, as did the man.