Judas
A priest working in the villages outside Cambridge reports that when sheep are taken off to be killed, they know instinctively that the slaughterhouse is a bad place. They can smell or sense something which warns of danger. The lorry carrying them will stop, the gangplank will be put down, but they will refuse to move.
The slaughterhouse operators have devised a way of getting round the problem. They keep a sheep on the premises, who is used to the place and doesn’t mind it any more. They take it up the plank on to the lorry, and then it walks down again quite happily. The other sheep, seeing one of their own leading the way, will follow.
The slaughterhouse workers call this sheep ‘Judas’.
The most disturbing element in this passage, however, is the awesome warning represented in the figure of Judas. There is, tragically, ‘a road to hell at the very gates of heaven’ in the sense that it is possible to resist even the prolonged, personal appeals of Jesus Christ and turn away at the last into the darkness. There are those whom even Jesus cannot, and will not, save. Not that his grace is insufficient for them. On the contrary, it truly is ‘enough for all, enough for each, enough for evermore’, as Charles Wesley eloquently declared. But they will not come to receive it. The corollary to the stress on the crucial importance of faith in this gospel is the seriousness of unbelief, the refusal of faith. Hell is no mere theoretical possibility. It is an awesome and fearful reality. To refuse the light means to choose the darkness where no light will ever shine again. Judas also eliminates the excuse often expressed or implied, that ‘if only I had been there, when Jesus was on earth, seen his miracles, heard his teaching, and experienced his personal invitation, then of course I would have committed my life to him’. Judas was there, he saw, he heard, he experienced … and went out to hell. ‘Put your trust in the light while you have it’ (12:36).