THE SOUL THAT DISCOVERS ITSELF "JUDAS"

The soul that reveals itself as Judas… and doesn't flee

—Lord…

last night we dined with you.

We sang the psalm.

And your eyes were raised to heaven with tenderness.

You broke the Bread…

and looked at us as if we were still worthy.

But I already had the dagger sheathed in my soul.

It wasn't made of metal,

but of indifference,

of cowardice,

of hidden loves stronger than yours.

—Lord…

I was Judas.

Not with scandal.

But with feigned fidelity.

With Mass and sin.

With just words and a double heart.

And today,

when I wake up,

I discover that the kiss is still on my lips.

—I sold you.

Not for thirty coins,

but for peace with the world.

So as not to inconvenience.

For not loving you to the point of blood.

And you...

you looked at me.

Not with reproach.

With that meekness

that breaks more than judgment.

With that purity

that accuses without a voice.

And you said:

"Friend..."

and that was worse.

For there is no pain deeper

than receiving love

when Love itself has been wounded.

I was Judas, Lord.

And yet you did not push me away.

You did not call the angels.

You did not invoke the Father.

You only allowed

yourself to be seized

like a meek Lamb.

And I trembled.

"Lord...

I do not deserve to look at you.

I do not deserve your Passion.

I do not deserve your Name.

And yet you wait for me?

"

[Christ responds]

"You turned your back on me,

but I have waited for you head on."

You sold me,

but I have paid for you with my Blood.

You called me "Master" without faith,

but I have called you "friend"…

and I have not withdrawn the word.

Don't you see, my soul,

that in that kiss you gave me

I placed all the warmth of my eternal Love?

Don't you understand yet

that I did not come to save innocents,

but to rescue traitors?

I did not defend myself when you handed me over.

I did not hide when you pretended.

No…

I stayed.

And for you

I was led like a dumb lamb to the slaughter.

Don't explain.

Don't make excuses.

Don't dissemble.

Just give me your wound.

I will heal it with nails.

I will wash it with Blood.

I will clothe it in my seamless tunic.

I will make your betrayal

my throne in my soul.

Come.

Not as one who begs for forgiveness,

but like the thief crucified at my right hand,

who only said:

"Remember me..."

and was already mine.

Because even after the kiss,

I have loved you more.