Slow Fade

One of my college literature professors used to encourage us to look for the Christ figure within the novel. He believed that the character and person of Jesus (as portrayed in and by the saving grace, the redeeming force, the intercessor, the unjustly condemned, the constant lover, the willing sacrifice, the suffering servant) can be found in most any great story. They range from the blatant to the less obvious, including Aslan in The Chronicles of Narnia, Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird, Jim Casey in The Grapes of Wrath, and the whisky priest in The Power and the Glory.

Lately, I have been fascinated by what could be called the Judas figure. It began when I stumbled upon a few verses that I haven’t read in a while. They got me wondering if there has been a figure more tragic in the whole of human history than Judas Iscariot.

But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (he who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this ointment not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?” He said this, not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief, and having charge of the moneybag he used to help himself to what was put into it. (John 12:4-6)

Something about this passage spoke to a burning question that has always been with me—how did Judas descend from disciple of Jesus to betrayer of the Christ? It seems that it all began with putting his hand into a moneybag. And this is how it ended:

Then when Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he changed his mind and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders, saying, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” They said, “What is that to us? See to it yourself.” And throwing down the pieces of silver into the temple, he departed, and he went and hanged himself. (Matthew 27:3-5)

After meditating on these verses one night, I woke up in the morning with a song in my heart. It was Slow Fade by Casting Crowns. The chorus goes as follows:

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day…It's a slow fade

I only have a few English television channels here, and one of them is amusingly titled Super Action Channel. One weekend, they were having a marathon of “movies you will like.” It began with Star Wars, Episode III: Return of the Sith and continued with The Dark Knight. I was immediately arrested by the Judas figures within both stories.

I believe that few of us will relate to the pure evil personified by Emperor Palpatine and the Joker. Most of us cannot fathom, or stand for, or stomach a comparison to the devil or to Hitler. However, I think we can all sympathize with the tragic downfall of Anakin Skywalker and Harvey Dent, who became Darth Vader and Two-Face, respectively.

They both began as disciples of good. They were fighting on the right side. They were viewed as heroes—as possible messiahs, in their own right. They were perceived as strong, as unflappable in the face of evil. They became moral compasses for those around them. However, they also faced sudden loss. Anakin watched his mother die in his arms. Harvey overheard his fiancée die in an explosion. They became consumed by the understandable anger one endures when losing precious earthly relationships and seemingly harmless attachments. Soon, that anger gave way to doubt. They began to question those around them. “Why didn’t they do more to prevent this suffering? Why even join the side of good if they are powerless to stop evil?” They eventually gave audience to that evil, in way of Darth Sidious and the Joker.

Anakin gave in to the familiar lie: “They are holding something back from you. They do not have your best in mind.” He wanted power and control, and he was willing to leave behind conviction to pursue it. Harvey was blindsided by the seeming randomness of suffering, and he abandoned the truths of greater purpose and justice for the allures of chance. He began flipping a coin to solve his now “meaningless” dilemmas.

Somewhere too along the way, Judas began making compromises. He stuck his hand into the bag. Maybe he pulled back at first. But soon, his character changed. He no longer cared about others. He only cared about himself. He had become a thief. Soon, that thief began wanting even more. He willingly betrayed Jesus for a bag of silver. In the end, he became a traitor and accomplice to murder. Then he woke up to the horror of the slow fade—to who he had finally become. It was more than he could bear.

We then find one of the most striking and tragic juxtapositions in history. In one scene, we see the perfect, innocent Son of God, hanging on the cross, taking upon the sins of the world. In another, we see His traitor, hanging from a tree, overcome by his selfish acts. The Christ figure stands in stark contrast to the Judas figure. In the final chapter, true character is revealed, and choices reach their conclusions.

The most haunting thing about the Judas figure, in history and in story, is that we all have the potential to become him. We must watch our lives and our doctrine closely (1 Timothy 4:16)—to be careful, lest we fall (Hebrews 3:12). After all, we don’t find ourselves staring at pure evil at the start. No, it is a downward spiral; a terrifyingly sluggish transformation; a slow but sure evolution—that all begins with dipping our hand in the water, looking for just a while longer, simply tasting of the fruit. Then, one day down the road, we awake to look in the mirror, to see what we’ve become…

Perhaps the descent is accelerated by unresolved conflict, or unexpected circumstances, or unrealistic expectations. In another sense, those things only come to reveal what lies deep within our hearts already. We have a long history of turning our backs on Jesus and pursuing our own agendas. We are a rebellious people.

Yet we are not left without hope. The potential of the Judas life can be conquered by the power of the Christ life. The corrupted can be swallowed up by the incorruptible. Even those of us who have made the compromises, and today find ourselves to be thieves, murderers, “blasphemers, persecutors, and insolent opponents” can find this saying true and worthy of acceptance: “Jesus Christ came to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost.” I marvel that the “grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus” (1 Timothy 1:12-17).

Nevertheless, I am very much sobered by the story (and seeming rebuke) of the Judas figure. People never crumble in a day. It’s a slow fade, from putting your hand in the disciple’s moneybag to throwing down the traitor’s coin purse in utter shame. Prices will be paid. Will we daily trust in the One who paid the ultimate price for us?