The Other Judas
Naming someone is a serious responsibility — or, at least, it should be treated with such dutiful care and attention. A name can inform and undergird our character, serving as a ‘north star’ of who we should emulate (like canonized saints or relatives), reminding us of our family’s legacy and kin, or, several centuries ago, identifying one’s profession.
In truth, a name is not only special because it evokes these signifiers. There is a sacredness imbued in it. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church correctly emphasizes:
“God calls each one by name. …The name is the icon of the person. It demands respect as a sign of the dignity of the one who bears it.”
The Catechism further states, “The name one receives is a name for eternity.” To think, if by God’s grace we are wholly unified with Him for all time, your name will be among the holiest of holies — the name of a saint. What a glorious, unimaginable honor. Naming, therefore, is not a flippant exercise as, most notably, celebrities often do to garner a ‘unique vibe’ for their child when, in reality, it is to stroke their egos. A name connects us between Heaven and Earth. Indeed, in the Garden of Eden, God humbled himself, bestowing Adam the authority to name the animals — and “whatever the man called each living creature was then its name.” Mankind, thus, has an active role in Creation, and naming is a vital, intrinsic aspect of our relationship with the Almighty.
But what happens when one fails to live up to their name? Perhaps there is no better example in Scripture than between Judas Iscariot, the betrayer of Jesus Christ, and his possible namesake, Judas Maccabeus.
Nearly two centuries before Christ, Judas Maccabeus — whose family name means “hammer” — witnessed the Hellenization and suppression of the Jewish people by Antiochus IV Epiphanes of the Seleucid Empire, who desecrated the Temple and “tore to pieces” the Hebrew books of the law, plundered and razed Jerusalem, and, in a horrifying decree, “put to death the women who had their children circumcised, and their families and those who circumcised them; and they hung the infant from their mothers’ necks.”
To avoid persecution, many Jews began adopting the pagan religion — but not the Maccabees. The family refused to acquiesce, revolting against the Hellenistic oppressors. After his father’s death, Mattathias, Judas took command and faithfully led the army to numerous victories on battlefields throughout Israel. Yet he also recognized the spiritual warfare — between Judaism and Hellenism — Jews endured, and beckoned his army to trust in God’s providence. Often outnumbered, Judas, in order to galvanize his men, once told them on the eve of battle:
“It is not on the size of the army that victory depends, but strength comes from Heaven. They come against us in great pride and lawlessness to destroy us and our wives and our children, and to despoil us; but we fight for our lives and our laws. He himself will crush them before us; as for you, do not be afraid of them.”
Judas placed his full trust in God’s will to protect the Jews, and, concurrently, “exhorted the people to keep themselves free from sin.”
In repulsing the Greeks, Judas eventually restored the Temple, rebuilding the sanctuary and altar, consecrating the courts, and burning incense. With the tremendous victory, the people celebrated the rededication for eight days, which Judas decreed should be commemorated annually. Today, this celebration is known as Hanukkah.
Judas eventually died in battle protecting his people. His heroic virtue is recounted in the First and Second Books of Maccabees, appearing in the Septuagint — the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible — which served as the basis for the Bible used in the Catholic Church. However, according to Busted Halo, “At the time of the Protestant Reformation, Protestant leaders decided not to include these seven Greek books in the Old Testament (because they weren’t written in Hebrew like the rest of the Old Testament) while Catholic leaders decided to retain them since they were important to our Jewish ancestors.” The Books of Maccabees are, therefore, often called “apocryphal” or “deuterocanonical”; nevertheless, they are rich in history, providing insights into the geopolitical and spiritual landscape Christ entered into, as well as customs Jews two thousand years later continue to celebrate.
This is also the reality that, no doubt, formed Judas Iscariot’s parents. Is it possible he was named in honor of the Jewish general? There is no definitive proof from Scripture or tradition. Indeed, Judas is the Greek version of Judah, meaning “praise” and is also one of the twelve tribes of Israel. Therefore, Judas Iscariot may have been one of the tribe’s descendants. Again, the New Testament offers no genealogy for Christ’s betrayer apart from his father’s name, Simon (unlike Christ himself, whose family lineage is listed in the Gospel of Matthew).
Still, the spiritual fortitude and collapse of Judas Maccabeus and Judas Iscariot, respectively, offer a model of trusting in God’s will, as well as a cautionary tale. Despite his ultimate betrayal, Judas Iscariot was chosen by Christ to be an apostle; and Christ gave him authority “over unclean spirits,” according to the Gospel of Mark, with which he “cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many that were sick and healed them.” As Matthew Franck, director of the William E. and Carol G. Simon Center on Religion and the Constitution at the Witherspoon Institute in Princeton, N.J., rightly illuminates in First Things: “It’s an arresting thought: the miracles of Judas.” More tragically, in Gethsemane, Jesus calls Judas “friend,” even after the latter’s deadly kiss.
What corrupted Judas Iscariot’s heart? Why did he, who was a trusted friend of Jesus, turn from Him? And why did he not seek God’s mercy after the betrayal? There are multiple theories. Certainly, greed is often cited since, as the Gospel of John attests, “he was a thief, and as he had the money box he used to take what was put into it”; why else would he demand thirty pieces of silver for Christ? He may have eventually aligned with the Pharisees’ fear that Jesus threatened the precarious, fraught relationship between the Jewish people and the Roman Empire, who dominated the region. Theologically, Judas may have balked at Christ’s teachings on the Eucharist, as Ascension Press proposes, since, afterward, He says, “Did I not choose you, the Twelve, and one of you is a devil?” When Christ affirms that “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you,” many of his followers found this to be a “hard saying” and left.
Or Judas simply could not fathom sacrificing his life in a grisly, humiliating death, after Christ tells his Apostles, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”
Ultimately, regardless of the reason, Judas failed to trust in God, unlike Judas Maccabeus, who, despite the risk of death and persecution, disregarded his safety and security to defend the Jewish people from falling away from the Lord and His covenant. He placed his faith in God, steadfastly turning to prayer throughout the revolt.
If Judas Iscariot was, indeed, named after the general, it adds another level of tragedy to his fall; for instead of being hailed as a glorious saint, he damned himself to eternal darkness, forgoing any reconciliation when he committed suicide.
If you are named after a canonized saint or relative who pursued holiness, emulate them. Do not tarnish their memory by acting unfaithfully. Cling to God and trust in His mercy, for that endures forever — as your name will in the heavenly hosts. After all, He has called you and knows you, His friend, by name.
