A Christmas Bet (1958)

By: Dennis L. Siluk


We could hear the television on in the living room, grandpa was watching it. My brother Mike and I looked at all the presents scattered under the tree, where mother had wrapped them in Christmas colored paper, with our names on them, we were in the kitchen finishing up our supper—pork steak, and pork n beans, the gifts were in the next room over.
“That one’s yours,” I said to Mike pointing my finger at a small rounded—the size of a shoe—somewhat soft looking present, with a near silent laugh. (I had read the label.)
“Sho now,” Mike said. “Grandpa will hear us laughing, he’s watching a western.” Then Mike stared at the small package.
“I know what’s in it,” he said. “I could tell you if I wanted to.”
(Chick looked at Mikes present, and the many other presents around the tree.)
“I suppose I can wait to find out on Christmas day,” I said.
“I’ll tell you what’s in it for a quarter,” Mike told me.
I looked at his present again. “I haven’t a quarter,” I stated.
“But you’ll have one Christmas morning when grandpa gives you five-dollars, like he does to all the family members on Christmas day,” Mike remarked. “Matter-of-fact,” Mike added, “you’ll know what’s in it by opening up your presents that look like my present—because mom is giving us the same. She does every year,” Mike told me. “If you don’t believe me go and ask mom!”
Then Mike grabbed me by the forearm. “Before you go into the living room to watch T.V., do you want to bet?”
“I’m not sure, can I feel it?” I asked—meaning the package. Then I stood up from the chair, washed my hands in the kitchen sink and looked through the doorway at all the presents all scattered out under the tree—many the same size as the one my brother wanted to bet with me on, and to be frank, he never did answer me the question I gave to him.
I could almost smell Christmas around the corner, to-morrow morning to be exact. Thus, it would be just tonight I could make this bet. In the morning with our red and white robs on, the ones mother had made for us a year before, Mike and I would sit next to one another, alongside of the tree, opening up one present after the other—unless we could talk mother into letting us open them up this Christmas Eve—which would be in a few hours.
“Well,” Mike insisted, “do you or don’t you want to bet?” Then there was a hesitation, hollowness in the air, “Chick!” he bellowed—but in a sedate manner, to get my attention, “Do you or don’t you?”
“If I guess what is in it, will you pay me a quarter?” I asked.
“Go watch T.V.,” he said somewhat frazzled.
I was only eleven-years old, Mike two years older than I, but I knew Mike was cleaver, I guessed he knew more than what he was saying, it was as if he had the edge. Yet I didn’t know what was in it, and my best guess was that he did.
“Don’t tell ma,” Mike told me.
“Why?” I asked.
“She’ll say I’m taking advantage of you, that’s why!” And just then, just at that very moment, mother had come out of her bedroom, which was a few feet away from the kitchen, not sure how much she heard but she said, “Hah?” as if it was a statement and a question all in one, as if she knew more than what she really knew. (Then there was an explanation that followed, not sure who said what.)
“You’re too old to be betting with your brother,” she said to Mike, after she found out that the game was a betting one.
Now Mother, Mike and I were all looking at that one present that looked so much like so many other presents under the tree—meaning, there were perhaps ten in total, that were of the same nature, in size, roundness and litheness. Grandpa was still watching his cowboy movie, mumbling something, smoking his pipe as if we didn’t exist, as if we were the silly cluster. He liked his quiet moments, his cowboy shows, and any kind of disturbance, as we were causing, even as light as it was, was for the most part, an imposition.
Anyhow, Mike asked ma if she would bet with him, that he could guess what was in the small packages.
“No,” she said, “we don’t bet here but I don’t think you really know anyhow.”
Now there was nothing at stake, except Mike’s pride, or call it, reliability, and that maybe was payment enough because he said what he thought was in those packages that all looked alike. And he chuckled when he said it, and he said, with a manner of confidence, “All right, okay, its socks, all those small same size packages are socks, because every year, ever since I can remember you’ve been giving us socks in the same size packages. Matter-of-fact, in my dresser drawers, two of them, all that is in them are socks, perhaps fifty-pairs, from years past.” And he wasn’t kidding.
“Well,” said mother, “now you know Chick, would that have been worth losing a quarter over?” And we all laughed quietly, and lightly. Then I asked, “Can we open the presents up at 6:00 p.m., (less than two hours away)…” waiting for her response, I added “since we all know what is in half the packages anyhow!” And that brought on a bigger laugh, and a shake of my mothers head, to the right and left and she said, “Maybe.”
“Your maybes are always no’s,” I commented.
“Well all right,” she said, and then gave us a big smile, and added “but be quite about it, don’t disturb grandpa, he likes his cowboy movies.”


No: 457/8-27-2009••

Judas Iscariot’s Secret

(The Gospel of Judas Iscariot)


It was a stiff shock for me, one of the bitterest I ever had to look at. And it all came about through my awkwardness. Even yet sometimes, when I think of it, I want to howl if not swear or simply kick myself. Perhaps, even now, for a time looking at it, there possible could be a kind of contentment in making myself look low-priced by telling of it. But I will tell it nonetheless.
It began one afternoon in North Dakota in the early 1980s, I was dating a student at the University of North Dakota, and we sat in a night club drinking tap beer, my mind trotting and pacing over a statement she made.
To tell you the truth, I felt a little foolish that I should be sitting in a night club at all. I don’t like drinking or smoking. But during this summer she was graduating and wanted me to be present so I made several trips, and persuaded her to graduate with honors, and she did.
Anyhow, the statement she made, I thought it something disgraceful, but I tried to look at it, or pretended to look at it as less than what it was, after all I had to work, and didn’t want it on my mind other than as a passing thought.
Her question, or statement, depending on how you phrase it, perhaps even it could be put into a statement-question category was, “Perhaps Judas Iscariot isn’t as guilty of the scorn everyone gives him…!” She said something on that order.
If she taught me anything it was how to rub down a thought, idea, and put it on hold. To me at the time, I figured she was simply putting a bandage on some old hurt that was left loose, or untied in the bible. But as years went on, I wrote a few articles on Judas, and this will be my third. I guess he’s been a big driver of thoughts in my head, kind of like—under my skin, kind of like ‘What was his secret?”

Well I knew that Judas Iscariot knew, Jesus’ mission, his divinity, perhaps clearer than anyone at that time on earth, even amongst his kind, the apostles. He also knew ahead of time the sacrifice Jesus was going to make and why (and thereafter his working being done for the time being, on earth and he’d be headed back up yonder, and Judas left to his mission). Also Judas knew, the power Jesus had behind that mortal shell he was in; —and to repeat myself he knew His divinity, His immortality.
But that isn’t what I want to tell my story about. There’s a lot of things you’ve got to look at, some psychological, some spiritual, and whose to say, one might even come to the conclusion: he didn’t know any better—God forbid, but man may have done some dumber thinks, a few of the apostles remember denied Christ, one by the name of Thomas had to see and touch before believing. But of course, they are not really the premise here, so I shall let it lie where dead dogs lie.
So here was a question I had to answer, it was right in front of me, right in the grand stand, you might say, “Why then did Judas chose potential self-destruction?” You know how it is, nobody in their right mind chooses this for any reason—I knew that much when I was looking at both sides of the coin, the psychological and spiritual. You see, Judas knew the interconnecting of the Divine Trinity, he wasn’t stuck on himself, to the point of denying this, if anything knowing this put him in a race against time—and this will come out later, but never mind that now.
It is also safe to say, Judas knew Jesus’ self-limitations; that is, inside his shell of humanity (I hate to say, but it is obvious once looked at, biblically and humanistically). This is a sweaty area for Christendom, or Christology—that being pretty close to the end, for here was a man, and God, and who could by choice, make a choice, and be omnipotent, but didn’t. Perhaps again, I may throw a tidbit into this bowl of crickets, one Judas created: perchance, him knowing this, and he didn’t use it, irked him. I’m only telling you this to get everything straight, and out in the open. If you are saying, “Gee whiz,” how can you say such a thing—or such tings? We are talking about a human being, Judas, a psychological man, so I figured this out, he was no dope, nor am I blaming him, but who doesn’t want to be on the side of great power? And if that power is not being used according to the Gospel of Judas, just like the power of Julius Cesar, people will lean on that person. Maybe Judas was not so different.
In any case, the question arises, “Why did Judas do what he did?” Well what exactly did he do? One person could say, “What a chump,” he was all of that. Or another could say, “What a traitor, he was!” He was all of that also, matter-of-fact, he was both of course; but this is surface talk—this is the situation, the problem for me was under the surface, it always is: perhaps this dude was on a power high.

When a man goes to war for his homeland, he is in essence doing so for the greater glory of his country, and in the process may have to give up his life for that country, and the people in it. Is this not so? And did not Jesus say, the greatest gift man can give to another is his life, something on that order? Oh yes, He said it loud and clear. This may shed some light on Judas’ humanity, his psychological make up, his act of treason, his reasoning.
Let’s remember, this fellow was no mutt, many a man, or men in his day, would have given their golden teeth to be in his position, I mean, and I’d bet he could had made a million on the side by just introducing Jesus to the local elite. But you know how a fellow is, if there are diamonds hidden in the well, why waist your time bringing over to the king the local brothers of the lodge.
I don’t want to make a fool of myself, for a slip-up—anyhow, but the question has come to surface, “Did Judas love Jesus?” To say otherwise, or even maybe, is an offence, of course he did. But how do you force a person’s hand who is not listening? Remember he is a man of his day. If he didn’t love Jesus, after receiving his thirty pieces of silver, he would not have thrown them away, and then he would not have sunk into a dreadful depression, nor would he have committed suicide. He was not guilty of blasphemy, rather a different offence, perhaps he loved power more than anything, or perhaps he loved the power Jesus could have, and he’d be part of it.
History has sat on a nice sofa chair talking about Judas as if they knew him each and everyone, for years and years, personally, and left out the psychological man, for the spiritual: and in so doing, bluffed it through, never finding out the real man behind the mask, they’ve been like lame cows.

The mind, Judas labored with his ambition—psychologically and with his spirit— he was of both fibers (perhaps he forgot happiness was or is a byproduct, not a divine attribute), in saying this, the next question that comes up is: “Was Judas trying to force the hand of God?” In essence, was he trying to take change of the world through his son? Or trying to get a piece of it ahead of time? And if so, who would be Jesus’ right hand man? And did Judas think: ‘Look here, I got a chance to be by the Father and Holy Spirit, the whole Godhead!” Perhaps so, and perhaps to degrees, whose to say.
Vanity and self-interest, which are part of the fiber of man, part of the original sin man inherited, is stronger than the whims of the devil himself.

†

Other Questions

Other questions that have come up have been: “Was Judas’ act predestined, or preordained? Well, whatever the case may be, it didn’t need to be. Perhaps Judas was plan B. that became plan A. It all depended on—I believe availability and usability. Although the time this all took place I do trust was preordained, it was a perfect time, a time of much construction, especially roads, by Rome, whom ruled the known and civilized world.

Most of us think all the bible facts have come to light, when in-between these sacred books within the two canons, much is hidden to be revealed later, as if many parts are written in invisible ink. For each decade, generation, century has its own make up—its own needs, its own language you might say, and that is why the bible can speak from two-thousand years ago, to the contemporary man and woman of today.

The last question, “Did Judas commit the unpardonable sin?” If he did, he’s in hell, if he didn’t, well fine, then most likely he’s been pardoned. It’s a questioned to be reckoned with. He did believe who Jesus Christ was, the gospel in essence, which is: who Christ was, and what did he do, and why did he do it. In this he just got his values crossed I do believe. But for the second part, did he blasphemy the Holy Spirit? If he did, he’s down yonder. But how would he have done that? I can think of one way, by the act of treason, and if indeed he wanted to be on one side of Jesus, this was impossible, because Jesus even told John’s mother, it was impossible, because He was on one side of the father, and the Holy Spirit on the other, so was Judas trying to kick the Holy Spirit off the throne, or out of the Godhead, if indeed he was, that come under the unpardonable category.


No: 456 (8-25-2009)