Chapter 57

“It was the name of a beloved disciple who betrayed Christ, God’s own son.” He remembered the uproarious laughter of his father and the others. “Can you see it? My own son a constant reminder of his son’s downfall! Hah! Why, Judas’s very existence is a thorn in his side. When he thinks of Judas, he is reminded of every bloody stripe on his flesh, every cut, and every torment Jesus had to endure that dark day on the cross. My son is his namesake…a namesake of the one who did it to him! Judas Iscariot!”

His voice rang with pride when he told the story. Ugly pride, not love. Judas wondered, wasn’t a father supposed to love his son? Instead Judas had been raised by his father’s harlots. He had become a man at an early age, having been taught sin at its most decadent by these women. He had all the sex he wanted, but no love. What did it feel like to love? What did it feel like to receive love? Would he ever know?

“Jesus was—”

“No! I don’t want to know about Jesus. Nothing!”