jibrail_rising (jibrail_rising) wrote,

Title:  Rejection
Fandom: da Bible
Characters: Judas, Jesus, mentionings of the Pharisees and other people
Word Count: 863
Rating: G
Authors Notes: This was a story I had to do for religion class or else there would be more slash stuff in it.
It's from Judas's POV, nothing real angsty or anything and no mentionings of Jesus's death (I have yet to find a story from Judas's POV that doesn't mention it) ...well it's mention once in passing.

There's something ironic about a man who devotes his life to accepting others being rejected in his hometown. Watching people stare at Jesus is a new thing for me. No it wasn't the "you're amazing" stares that he usually gets, it was the "you're nothing" stares. The kind that cuts like a dagger and once it's pulled out the poison and pain still remains.
We traveled through Nazareth and never once were we offered a helping hand or a place to stay. People said he was just a carpenter.
"Don't get me wrong Judas, that was your name right? He's a nice guy but, well, he has his head in the clouds and by the time he's called back down here to Earth it might be too late." I got that comment many times as I walked through the market looking for some cheap bread. Today Jesus decided to go and teach at the Synagogue. He has a habit of doing things at the worst possible time…the glares of the Pharisees make me shiver. They are a formidable foe, one that Jesus should walk on eggshells around. Yet he doesn't… part of me is annoyed with him for being so blunt to them while the other part is rejoicing. These Pharisees, leaders of our people spend their lives saying that the south is living in sin and they are suffering for what they have done. I am from the south so it hurts, hurts more than I let on but…but my own people say the same of the north…and of Jesus I reason, considering he is a northerner.
Watching Jesus teach is like nothing else in this world. It's…it's amazing. I can't put words to it. He has a gift for speech. The people are captivated like I was when I first met him. Though, no one knows how scared he is, I do, and that's only because he's told me. He is scared of the people, of this power he has. There are moments when he doesn't want to teach, to spread the word of God. He has told me thousands of times late at night when sleep denies him the sanctuary of nothingness.
"They are demons Judas. Well, no they're not…but sometimes I feel that they are. Father forgive me for saying such things. But…I love them, you know that right?"
"Yes, of course I do."
"Good. I want someone to know that…but they are aggravating. They don't understand me… Words should be simple, they should flow and be understood. It should be like a mother speaking to her child. They are so difficult! Words are, to say the right thing, to get my meaning across…" We sit in silence most nights. Both of us staring up at the stars and envying their freedom. "Do you understand me Judas?" He asks me this every night, once the rest are asleep.
"…I do…sometimes. But there are times that I don't and I wish I did yet I am afraid that if I understood you and all of this that I would leave because…I don't know…forget I said anything." My answers vary depending on the night but the one thing that never changes is the sense of foreboding. Like death hiding in the shadows waiting to pounce, I feel that if I stay I will regret it.
"Where did this man get all this?"
"What kind of wisdom has been given him? What mighty deeds are wrought by his hands!"
"Is he not the carpenter, the son of Mary, and the brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon? And are not his sisters here with us?"
I am dragged back to the present by the peoples chattering. Their constant questions and lack of faith are thrown at Jesus as he makes his way through the crowd. They won't let him go until he answers them, I can tell by their faces.
"A prophet is not without honor except in his native place and among his own kin and in his own house." Jesus says as he pushes his way through. The crowd relents and lets him pass. Once outside I ask him if we were going to stay another night.
"Would you?" was all I got and so we left…and I don't think Jesus will ever return, alive at least.
I know the rejection of his hometown unnerved him. Their lack of faith amazed him. In so many ways Jesus is a child, naïve to the world around him. I have seen to much hatred, death, and war to be shocked by anything now…well, anything negative. But I am always thrown off when someone does something kind to me, offers me a helping hand or simply smiles. That night Jesus and I sat out under the stars, the last of the disciples had retired.
"Do you understand me Judas?" Ah, the nightly question. I don't say anything for a bit, my mind trying to form an answer.
"Yes, I believe I do…tonight at least." He says nothing in reply, just smiles. I think I am beginning to catch on to what he's trying to do, what he is trying to change.

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