Chapter Text
Something always felt different. Simon and Joanna Iscariot were delighted to finally have been blessed with a child, and warmly welcomed a little baby girl.
The child was given the name Judith. But even in her earliest memories, the name never fit. She responded to it, of course, and introduced herself as such when required, but it never felt right.
Judith was often regarded as odd by the rest of the townsfolk, cast aside and teased by the other children. She defied what was expected of a young girl, spending her days climbing trees rather than weaving, even going as far to try to sneak into the synagogue for the boys’ classes. One old Rabbi noticed her lingering just outside the door, and felt pity; he could see the thirst for knowledge behind those bright brown eyes. He quietly took the young child under his wing, and slowly taught her all he could, until the family moved away. Judith was just over seven years old when Jerusalem became the family’s new home.
In the city, she never made proper friends, and without as many trees to climb, or kind Rabbis to learn from, she buried herself in whatever books she could get her hands on. Eventually, she found herself assisting with her father’s financial records. Numbers were constant, they would always make sense, especially when neither she nor the world did.
As she grew, Judith learnt that knowledge could be gained in many ways. She would linger outside the temple, straining to overhear lectures and sermons. She could trade fruits and sweets for books from the younger students. Occasionally, she would find papers and essays discarded on the floor, and would scoop them up. It kept her busy, and allowed the feelings of ‘something’s not right’ to linger in the background of her mind.
Deep down, buried beneath the academics and general knowledge, a deeper knowledge lay dormant. She didn’t quite know how to explain it, but she knew that the life set out for her wasn’t right. She may look like a young woman, but whenever she caught her reflection, it took a moment to recognise herself. “Judith” never sounded right, feeling like a bad taste in her mouth. She looked at the women in town, seeing glimpses of the future set out for her, and she didn’t want that. She knew she would never be the woman society expected of her. She knew that the body she had, whilst strong, did not match how she felt.
But the fear of how her parents would react and how society would act stopped her from actively engaging with her inner self. Keeping those thoughts and feelings hidden was the safest option for her.
Presently, the pinkish gown her mother insisted she wore was buried beneath a greying robe of her father’s. A striped blue shawl was thrown over her head, into which she tucked her curly hair, in an attempt to stop it flying around. She desperately longed to cut it, but she knew her mother would have a fit if she did. Once again, all duties had been abandoned in favour of waiting outside the temple.
As Passover was fast approaching, the city was busy, and she loitered in the outer court, desperate to pick up on whatever scraps of knowledge she could. She found when she wore the oversized robe and covered her hair, not only did she feel more comfortable, but at first glance, she blended in with all the young men who would hang around.
An unfamiliar voice drifted out across the crowd, drawing Judith in like a moth to a flame.
“We all know how God created us, do we not? From the earth, from the rib of Adam. We contain multitudes, and remember, God loves us! Why else would He create us the way He did? We are in His image, we are like Him! So we must treasure ourselves as such. Would we neglect to care for His Temple, or not treat His word with respect? Of course not! So we must love ourselves. No matter your gender, your race, your name, you are Him in human form. And you are priceless.”
The speaker was a young man, surely not much older than her, but his stance and tone exuded authority. Yet, he radiated warmth and kindness.
Judith found her feet rooted to the stone floor as emotions and thoughts that had long been repressed bubbled to the surface. Was how she saw herself alright in His eyes? Would God still love her? If she… could be who she truly suspected she may be?
The crowd began to disperse once the man had concluded speaking, and Judith felt his eyes meet hers. Most would turn away, but she stubbornly did not avert his gaze, even as he approached.
“I take it you have an issue with what I just said?” the young man said, not unkindly.
Judith shook her head. “No, I actually think it was inspiring.”
The man lit up. “Oh! That’s good to hear, people are usually less receptive.”
She nervously thumbed the silver amulet around her neck, a gift from her grandmother. “It… it gives me much to think about. Thank you,” Judith said.
The man smiled serenely, and extended a hand. “Of course. I’m Jesus by the way.”
She reached out tentatively and shook it. “I’m Judith,” she whispered, her voice catching.
Jesus’ smile transformed into a grin. “Well, Jude, would you like to join me in the temple? We can discuss further, and look into the book of Genesis, perhaps?”
Judith felt her heart flutter, as the very first word the man said echoed in his mind.
Jude.
Even though he had simply misheard, Jude felt right. Much more than her actual name ever had. She didn’t bother correcting him.
“Jude?” Jesus asked, and her attention snapped back to the present. He’d invited her to the temple library, where she was not allowed, as only men could enter that part of the building.
“I can’t.”
Jesus looked confused.
“I just… I can’t go in. I’m sorry,” she said. Her hands trembled slightly. Did he truly not see?
A combination of joy and anxiety thumped in her chest.
A few words from a stranger, and she started to feel more and more certain as to who she actually was.
But overwhelmed, she fled.
Judith did not see Jesus again.
…
As the years passed, the feelings she kept in the back of her mind started to occupy her thoughts more often than not. The smallest things provoked these feelings; seeing a bolt of beautiful blue linen, and imagining it as a robe, or the short messy hair of the boy down the street. Her past confusion morphed into an understanding.
But any chance to safely explore this understanding did not exist. Not until the age of twenty-six.
Illness had come to Jerusalem, and was slowly making its way through the city’s old and frail. After weeks of coughing and spluttering, Joanna and Simon Iscariot breathed their last in their sleep, hands entwined.
It hurt. Whilst they never would have understood, they were good people. She hadn’t been properly ready to say goodbye. But after the burial of her parents, part of herself was freed. It was time to prepare for a fresh start. A new life.
A journey back to Kerioth was in order. And this time, it would not be as the daughter of Simon and Joanna.
…
Long lengths of brown curls lay scattered on the floor. A pile of old clothing sat in a basket to be donated. A pair of hands trembled as they ran through the now short hair, then smoothed down a set of hand-me-down robes. The silver hamsa was still worn with pride.
A final glance in the mirror on the wall caused a smile to appear, the first of what would hopefully be many genuine ones.
The door closed softly, both on the house and on this part of life, as Judas Iscariot’s journey began.