Judas is one of the most infamous men in history: he is known to us as the disciple who betrayed Jesus with a kiss. He is a complex and intriguing character whose motivations continue to fascinate artists and writers, theologians and commentators alike.
Earlier this year, the writer and broadcaster Peter Stanford published Judas: the troubling history of the renegade apostle (Hodder & Stoughton, 2015). In his historical and cultural biography, he explores how even the name 'Judas' became closely associated with betrayal, and even evil. Is Judas the ultimate traitor? Perhaps he unsettles us precisely because he highlights our deepest anxieties about fidelity in friendship.
However, a decade ago, Anthony Cane explored the significance of Judas in Christian theology (The Place of Judas Iscariot in Christology, Ashgate 2005). His work sheds light on how Judas is understood; and the way Jesus is understood. This has implications for how we talk about salvation as well as the nature of evil and suffering.
It was Anthony's research that resulted in the artist Chris Gollon being invited to paint an image of Judas' wife. Having exhibited at Guildford Cathedral in 2014, his exhibition 'Incarnation, Mary and Women from the Bible' is on a national tour of cathedrals. Each cathedral suggested new subject and Anthony's knowledge of Judas' back story led him to suggest his wife (which will be unveiled at Chichester Cathedral on 16th June). You can read more about this in an fascinating piece in the Independent by Nick Clark, following an interview with Chris and Anthony:
http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/news/artist-finally-puts-a-face-to-the-name-of-mrs-judas-iscariot-10314425.html
The painting that Chris produced forces us to consider not only the impact of Judas' suicide on this unnamed woman; it also makes us ponder what her role might have been in his decision to betray Jesus in the first place.
Chris Gollon - Judas' Wife (first version, 2015)
I was overwhelmed by the complexity and intensity of this painting the first time I saw it. Whatever her motivation, her grief is palpable. Chris has an amazing capacity to hold us in a moment, before we know how it might resolve. She does not so much hold a letter but crumple it; almost as if its contents are too much to bear. The words of remorse, farewell or love have a devastating effect.
She is overtaken by an emotional and physical response to a double bereavement. Not only has she lost a husband whom she loved but she has to face Jesus' death. She confronts the cost of one man's action; his role (her role?) in the shocking events that unfold.
What we see in her is heartbreak. In the depths of her despair, she is alienated. This is the effect grief sometimes has on us. We cross the street or stand motionless at a graveside. We know that there are no words yet we know we find ways of expressing condolence. We might howl in distress; we might be stuck dumb. Judas' wife's expression is compelling: we can't look away but nor can we bear to face her; we can't walk away or ease her pain. Perhaps all we can do is wait with her?
So many of Chris's painting speak of the human capacity to endure: to be with others and to confront despair. This patience bearing with has echos in my mind with Paul's letter to the Romans - and his assurance that somehow, especially when we cannot make sense of things, there is still hope.
At the heart of the New Testament, there are two deaths.
At the heart of that narrative there is betrayal and denial; some flee, some wait and some hide behind locked doors.
The death of one man creates a widow. The death of the one he betrayed someone how, beyond the limits of human eloquence, reveals that there is no longer any place where God is not.
Somehow... this image, which takes us to the depth of grief, also reveals the nature of love.
© 2015 Julie Gittoes
