Judas Iscariot’s betrayal was, in essence, quite simple: one of Jesus’s closest followers disclosed to the priests, the Sadducees, and the Sanhedrin that Jesus had allowed himself to be anointed. That single act was enough to mark him as claiming the role of Messiah: asserting authority, whether political or spiritual, over the Judean people. By Roman standards, this was sedition. The charge that followed was straightforward: Jesus was accused of declaring himself “king of the Jews.” As with all other insurrectionists, the prescribed punishment was crucifixion, and his crime was written over him on the cross. This is precisely how the Gospel of Mark frames the outcome.

But who was Judas Iscariot, and why did he turn? It is almost certain that one of the twelve disciples did betray Jesus, but this very fact demanded explanation. For the earliest followers, proclaiming Jesus as Son of God, the treachery of a member of his inner circle was a scandal. Each community developed its own apologetic response. In one account Judas is greedy; in another he is possessed by Satan; in yet another he is himself “a devil.” Throughout the versions, he is presented as fulfilling one or another supposed prophecy. The evangelists turn again and again to the Tanakh for justification, but they do not land on the same texts. Matthew draws heavily from Mark, while Luke discards Mark’s scriptural anchors and substitutes others, and John develops an altogether distinct vision.

However, before proceeding further, let us entertain an alternative construction—one that imagines Mary Magdalene as the wife of Jesus. Historically speaking, this would not be unusual: a first-century Judean man, particularly one regarded as a teacher or rabbi, would be expected to have married by the age of thirty.

Now, suppose the Gospel of Mark remained as it is, but the author of Matthew, in keeping with his method of inserting “fulfilments” of prophecy, had included a verse immediately after Jesus’s forty days in the wilderness:

Then the devil left him, and that wilderness, Mary Magdalene came and waited on him, as was foretold in the prophet Jeremiah.

A Christian encountering such a passage might be drawn to the early chapters of Jeremiah, and might sincerely believe that this prophetic text had indeed prefigured this moment. For Jeremiah 2 reads:

The word of the Lord came to me, saying: Go and proclaim in the hearing of Jerusalem, Thus says the Lord:

I remember the devotion of your youth, your love as a bride,
how you followed me in the wilderness, in a land not sown.
Israel was holy to the Lord, the first fruits of his harvest.
All who ate of it were held guilty; disaster came upon them, says the Lord.

With just a slight reframing, the metaphor of Israel as a bride who follows the Lord into the wilderness could be interpreted literally; as Mary Magdalene, the devoted bride, joining Jesus in his moment of trial. Just as Matthew applied verses about weeping in Ramah or silver paid for a potter’s field to the story of Judas, so too might a verse about bridal devotion in the wilderness be pressed into service as a prophecy fulfilled by Mary.

Now imagine that the Gospel of Luke remained largely as we know it, but that the author (who emphasizes the role of women, the outcast, and the covenantal mercy of God) added the following verse to Luke 8, just after introducing Mary Magdalene:

And the twelve were with him, as well as some women who had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out, and she was joined to him in covenant, as Ruth to Boaz, according to the Scriptures.
And many others supported them out of their own resources.

A Christian reading this would naturally look back to the story of Ruth and interpret it as a prophetic type: a foreshadowing of Mary Magdalene’s relationship with Jesus.

In Ruth 3:9, the moment of union is tender but symbolically rich. Ruth approaches Boaz at night and says:

“I am Ruth, your servant,” she said. “Spread your cloak over your servant, for you are a redeemer.”

The act of spreading one’s cloak was a cultural symbol of marriage, protection, and covenant. In Boaz’s case, he is not merely a kind man: he is a redeemer of Ruth’s family line, and through this union, she becomes part of the royal lineage that leads to David, and eventually (according to Matthew’s genealogy) to Jesus himself.

Now, imagine this logic turned full circle:

Just as Ruth the outsider becomes the bride of the redeemer Boaz,
So too Mary, the outsider once afflicted by spirits, becomes the bride of Jesus, the final redeemer from David’s line.

In the imagined Luke passage, the language “joined to him in covenant” evokes the same hesed (covenant loyalty) that Ruth displays, and Luke’s Gospel, with its emphasis on God’s mercy, reversal of status, and inclusion of women, provides a fitting literary environment for such a theological reinterpretation. In the same way Matthew reads Jeremiah and Zechariah into the story of Judas, this constructed Luke-Ruth pair invites a parallel reading: It was foretold. And once again, the reader sees what they expect to see, for Scripture, when read this way, always seems to agree.

Finally, the gospel of John offers no nativity, no genealogy, and no exorcisms. It speaks of the Word made flesh, of signs rather than miracles, and repeatedly obscures identities (e.g., the “disciple whom Jesus loved”). Mary Magdalene, too, appears veiled in ambiguity: most powerfully at the resurrection, where she alone first encounters the risen Jesus but does not immediately recognize him.

Let us suppose the following verse was inserted in John 20, immediately after Mary turns and sees Jesus standing outside the tomb, though she does not yet know it is him.

Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?”
Supposing him to be the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”
And in that moment, her eyes were opened, for the bride had found the king, as it is written in the scroll of Esther: “Who knows but that you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”
Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher).

A Christian reading this fictionalized version would be drawn to Esther 4:14, where Mordecai tells Esther:

“Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for such a time as this.”

Here is the turning point in Esther’s story: the moment of courageous recognition, when she accepts her role as queen and redeemer of her people. The parallel is clear:

Esther approaches the king at great personal risk to save her people.
Mary approaches the risen Jesus, the true king, and becomes the first witness to the resurrection.
Both moments are transformative, climactic, and veiled in mystery.

In the Book of Esther:

Esther initially conceals her identity (as Mary Magdalene’s full role is never declared).
She is elevated to queenship unexpectedly.
She becomes the intercessor who brings salvation to her people.
God’s name is never mentioned, yet divine providence is sensed throughout.

Similarly, in John:

Mary Magdalene is the first to see the risen Christ but does not recognize him at first.
Her identity as the first witness is not shouted—it is revealed in a single word: “Mary!”
Her role is essential yet obscured, intimate yet undefined.
The narrative is dense with symbolism, just like Esther.

Thus, if Esther can become queen for “such a time as this,” so too could Mary Magdalene be seen as the bride of the king, chosen and revealed in the garden of resurrection. This fictional passage would offer a "prophetic" fulfillment in the same spirit as John 3:29, where John the Baptist says:

“The one who has the bride is the bridegroom.”

Were this statement reframed slightly, Mary Magdalene could easily be seen as the bride: the one who finds the king and is united to him for such a time as this.

Before turning to Judas Iscariot, it is worth pausing to reflect on the exercise just completed. To most Christians today, the idea that Mary Magdalene was the prophesied bride of Jesus would seem absurd, even offensive. They would correctly object that no such claim is made anywhere in the Gospels, and that any such interpretation relies on fictional additions and manipulative re-readings of unrelated Hebrew Scriptures. They would dismiss the imagined verses from Matthew, Luke, or John as apocryphal fabrications, imposed upon the text to support a predetermined conclusion.

And yet, this is precisely what happened in the case of Judas Iscariot.

Forty years, or more, after the execution of Jesus, the earliest storytellers and evangelists faced a significant theological problem: how could one of Jesus’s own disciples betray him? The original gospel (Mark) offers little detail and no theological resolution. But the later gospel writers each felt compelled to resolve this problem by anchoring Judas’s betrayal in prophecy. The result is three distinct and incompatible accounts, each supported by a different set of verses from the Tanakh, chosen to align with their respective narrative agendas. Let us be clear, we will see that:

Each Gospel invokes a different scriptural “prophecy” to explain Judas’s behavior.
The actions of Judas described in each Gospel differ significantly, and none of the Gospels show any awareness of the others’ interpretive choices.
The three narratives are not merely different, they are contradictory.

And yet, for most Christians, this inconsistency goes unnoticed. What they immediately perceive as a fabricated typology when applied to Mary Magdalene, they fail to recognize in the case of Judas Iscariot. In both cases, passages from the Tanakh are retrofitted to explain and legitimize an event already believed to have happened. The difference is only that one has become canonized and the other remains imagined.

In the sections that follow, we will examine the three portrayals of Judas in detail, considering not only the differences in narrative, but also the distinct prophetic verses each Gospel writer claims as their fulfillment. As we shall see, these efforts to explain a theological crisis (how one of Jesus’s closest companions could betray him) ultimately reveal more about the authors’ interpretive agendas than they do about Judas himself.

Each evangelist after Mark attempts to resolve this problem by anchoring Judas’s betrayal in the scriptures. Verses from the Tanakh are selectively chosen and reinterpreted so that Judas’s actions may appear foretold: giving divine sanction to an otherwise inexplicable failure within Jesus’s inner circle. These narratives are therefore shaped less by historical recollection than by the need to parallel the chosen texts. Because Matthew, Luke, and John each appeal to different passages and construct their own narrative trajectories, the resulting accounts diverge sharply and irreconcilably. The only common features across all four Gospels are generalities: that Judas was one of the twelve; that he handed Jesus over; that the arrest occurred at the Mount of Olives; and that, during the arrest, someone’s sword severed the ear of a servant. Beyond these, the details do not overlap unless Matthew or Luke are copying directly from Mark. John, writing independently, departs further still; introducing unique elements such as Satan entering Judas, the absence of a financial motive, the symbolic morsel of bread, and Judas’s departure into the night. None of these features appear in the synoptics.

The result is a set of narratives that agree only on the fact of betrayal, yet diverge on nearly every other detail. The contradictions here are more extensive than in almost any other section of the New Testament. They do not testify to a shared memory or a consistent oral tradition, but rather to different early Christian communities, each grappling with the same theological dilemma in their own way: how to account for the betrayal of Jesus while still preserving the coherence and urgency of his apocalyptic mission.

Throughout this document, most sections will be followed by questions that have useful, contradictory or confusing answers. These are highlighted in magenta.

Here, we will cover Judas

This is followed by a concise summary of the most obvious contradictions surrounding Judas and a summary and concludions. We now begin with the earliest Christian writings: those of Paul: someone who does not know, or does not care, about Judas.

1. The writings of Paul

Paul never refers to the twelve disciples by name, nor does he employ the Greek word mathētēs (μαθητής), the standard term in the gospels for “disciple.” Instead, he speaks collectively of “the twelve,” but only in the context of the resurrection appearances (1 Corinthians 15:5). Within this framework, Paul refers to Peter (Cephas) and John as apostles, together with the other apostles (Galatians 2:9). Apart from them, he also acknowledges James, the Lord’s brother (Galatians 1:19), who was not one of the twelve. Thus, among the twelve, Paul names only Peter and John. He never mentions Judas Iscariot, nor Matthias, who replaced Judas according to Acts 1:26. Significantly, Paul always uses the name Cephas (Κηφᾶς), the Aramaic form meaning “rock,” and never the Greek form Petros (Πέτρος). This suggests that Paul either did not know, or at least did not emphasize, that Peter was known by both names, a distinction that later gospel traditions highlight more clearly.

Paul does, however, speak of Jesus being “handed over,” using the Greek verb paradidōmi (παραδίδωμι). This verb differs from prodidōmi (προδίδωμι), which specifically denotes “betrayal.” In Paul’s letters, the emphasis is not on Judas’s treachery but on the theological reality of Jesus being delivered up to death. This “handing over” can be attributed to human agency (the authorities who condemned him) or divine agency (God handing over his Son for humanity). The latter nuance is especially prominent in Paul’s theology: “who was handed over to death for our trespasses” (Romans 4:25); “he who did not withhold his own Son, but handed him over for all of us” (Romans 8:32); and “on the night when he was handed over” (1 Corinthians 11:23, introducing the Last Supper tradition). For Paul, therefore, the significance lies not in the betrayal by one disciple, but in the divine purpose fulfilled through Jesus’s being handed over.

Paul appears to be entirely unaware of Judas’s betrayal or his subsequent death. In 1 Corinthians 15:3–5, he summarizes the resurrection appearances in a tradition he claims to have “received”: Jesus appeared first to Cephas (Peter), ignoring the women at the tomb, and then “to the twelve.” Yet in the gospel tradition, Jesus appears to the disciples while they are still only eleven, since Judas has already died and Matthias has not yet been chosen to replace him (Acts 1:15–26). Paul’s reference therefore creates a contradiction: either he preserves an earlier tradition in which “the twelve” was a fixed symbolic title for the group regardless of actual numbers, or he simply did not know the Judas story as it was later developed in the gospels. In either case, Paul’s account stands in tension with the narratives that reduce the disciples to eleven until Judas’s office is filled.

Paul never mentions Judas or the act of betrayal, and apart from the gospels and the Acts of the Apostles, no other New Testament writings refer to either Judas or the betrayal. We will therefore turn to the gospel narratives themselves and examine how each of the four authors portrays Judas.

2. Before Jerusalem in the gospels

The first mention of Judas Iscariot in the synoptic gospels (Mark, Matthew, and Luke) occurs in the context of Jesus appointing the twelve. In Mark, this sequence begins with the healing of a man with a withered hand on the Sabbath, a miracle that provokes hostility from the Pharisees. Crowds then gather around Jesus from across the land, stretching from Phoenicia in the north to the Negev in the south. It is in response to these crowds that Jesus goes up a mountain and appoints twelve disciples, among whom is Judas Iscariot. From a theological perspective, this raises a striking question: if Jesus is understood as Yahweh, or as one with Yahweh, he would have known from eternity that Judas would later “hand him over.” Why, then, would he choose Judas at all, unless the ensuing events were intended within the divine plan? Mark continues the narrative by describing the pressure of the crowds and how even Jesus’ own family sought to restrain him, thinking that he had gone “out of his mind.”

Mark 3:1-6:

Again he entered the synagogue, and a man was there who had a withered hand. They were watching him to see whether he would cure him on the Sabbath, so that they might accuse him. And he said to the man who had the withered hand, “Come forward.” Then he said to them, “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the Sabbath, to save life or to kill?” But they were silent. He looked around at them with anger; he was grieved at their hardness of heart and said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out, and his hand was restored. The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.

Mark 3:7-12:

Jesus departed with his disciples to the sea, and a great multitude from Galilee followed him; hearing all that he was doing, they came to him in great numbers from Judea, Jerusalem, Idumea, beyond the Jordan, and the region around Tyre and Sidon. He told his disciples to have a boat ready for him because of the crowd, so that they would not crush him, for he had cured many, so that all who had diseases pressed upon him to touch him. Whenever the unclean spirits saw him, they fell down before him and shouted, “You are the Son of God!” But he sternly ordered them not to make him known.

Mark 3:13-19:

He went up the mountain and called to him those whom he wanted, and they came to him. And he appointed twelve to be with him and to be sent out to preach and to have authority to cast out demons. So he appointed the twelve: ... and Judas Iscariot, who handed him over.

Mark 3:20-21:

Then he went home, and the crowd came together again, so that they could not even eat. When his family heard it, they went out to restrain him, for people were saying, “He has gone out of his mind.”

The author of Luke had access to the Gospel of Mark and followed much of its material in roughly the same order, as shown in the comparative charts referenced here. Accordingly, the story of Jesus healing the man with the withered hand on the Sabbath appears in Luke just as it does in Mark. Yet Luke omits a significant detail: in Mark, the crowds provided the impetus for choosing the twelve disciples. Mark describes these crowds as including many possessed by unclean spirits, and part of the rationale for appointing the twelve was so that they might also “cast out demons.” Luke leaves this justification aside and simply records that Jesus chose twelve disciples.

This omission is consistent with the different Christologies of the two authors. Mark includes no birth narrative, and many scholars suggest that he portrays Jesus as an ordinary human who became the Son of Yahweh at his baptism, when the Spirit descended upon him, and from whom that Spirit departed at his execution. Luke, however, begins with a birth narrative in which Jesus is already declared the Son of Yahweh, born of the virgin Mary, who had spoken with the angel Gabriel and knew her child’s divine origin. For the author of Luke, it would be implausible for Mary to attempt to restrain Jesus or to consider him “out of his mind,” and so that episode from Mark disappears. Instead, Luke adapts the description of crowds from Phoenicia to the Negev to provide the setting for the Sermon on the Plain: his abbreviated version of Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount.

In Luke, the sequence follows Mark closely, though with notable adaptations.

Luke 6:6-11:

On another Sabbath he entered the synagogue and taught, and there was a man there whose right hand was withered. The scribes and the Pharisees were watching him to see whether he would cure on the Sabbath, so that they might find grounds to bring an accusation against him. But he knew what they were thinking, and he said to the man who had the withered hand, “Come and stand in the middle.” He got up and stood there. Then Jesus said to them, “I ask you, is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the Sabbath, to save life or to destroy it?” After looking around at all of them, he said to him, “Stretch out your hand.” He did so, and his hand was restored. But they were filled with fury and began discussing with one another what they might do to Jesus.

Luke 6:12-16:

Now during those days he went out to the mountain to pray, and he spent the night in prayer to God. And when day came, he called his disciples and chose twelve of them, whom he also named apostles: ... and Judas son of James, and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor.

Luke 6:17-19:

He came down with them and stood on a level place with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. They had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases, and those who were troubled with unclean spirits were cured. And everyone in the crowd was trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them.

Luke then proceeds directly to the Sermon on the Plain.

Here it is important to recall that in Mark, immediately after the appointment of the twelve, Jesus’ mother Mary and his brothers attempt to restrain him because they believe he has “lost his mind” (Mark 3:20–21). As noted earlier, Luke omits this entirely for theological consistency: in his account, Mary already knows her son’s divine origin, so it would be inconceivable for her to think him mad. However, in Mark, this desire to restrain Jesus reaches its climax a few verses later, when his family tries to meet with him and he dismisses them, redefining family in spiritual rather than biological terms:

Mark 3:31-35:

Then his mother and his brothers came, and standing outside they sent to him and called him. A crowd was sitting around him, and they said to him, “Your mother and your brothers are outside asking for you.” And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking at those who sat around him, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

At this point, Luke shows what many scholars identify as editorial fatigue. Having omitted the earlier reference to Mary and Jesus’ brothers restraining him, Luke nevertheless continues to follow Mark’s narrative and includes the episode of the family seeking him. As a result, he reproduces a scene whose logic in Mark depends on a passage he has already removed, leaving Jesus appearing to speak to his mother and brothers in the same dismissive tone:

Luke 8:19-21:

Then his mother and his brothers came to him, but they could not reach him because of the crowd. And he was told, “Your mother and your brothers are standing outside, wanting to see you.” But he said to them, “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it.”

In Mark, the appointment of the twelve disciples occurs quite early in the narrative, and since Luke more or less followed Mark closely, generally preserving the same order while adding material here and there, Luke likewise places this episode at the same relative point. Matthew, however, approaches Mark differently. Rather than following Mark’s order consistently, Matthew rearranges the material as follows:

Most of Mark 1 is transferred into Matthew 3–4.
Matthew then inserts the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5–7).
He resumes the end of Mark 1, placing it in Matthew 8.
He then jumps to copy the end of Mark 4 and the first half of Mark 5 into Matthew 8–9.
After this, he circles back to include much of Mark 2.
Finally, he returns to the remainder of Mark 5, again within Matthew 9.

Only at this point does Matthew return to Mark 3. By then, however, the gospel is already well advanced, and for Jesus to “choose” his disciples at such a late stage would appear awkward. Thus, instead of narrating their appointment, Matthew simply lists the twelve by name:

Matthew 9:35-38:

Then Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”

Matthew 10:1-4:

Then Jesus summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness. These are the names of the twelve apostles: ... and Judas Iscariot, the one who betrayed him.

Matthew 10:5-6:

These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Do not take a road leading to gentiles, and do not enter a Samaritan town, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel...”

Finally, the Gospel of John mentions Judas once prior to the Jerusalem narrative, but in a very different context; one not recorded in any of the synoptic gospels. In John 6:66-71, following a difficult teaching, many of Jesus’ disciples turn back and no longer follow him:

Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him.

So Jesus asked the twelve, “Do you also wish to go away?”

Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

Jesus answered them, “Did I not choose you, the twelve? Yet one of you is a devil.”

He was speaking of Judas son of Simon Iscariot, for he, though one of the twelve, was going to betray him.

This exodus of disciples, and the accompanying identification of Judas as “a devil,” has no parallel in Mark, Matthew, or Luke. Moreover, John introduces Judas earlier and with sharper hostility than the synoptic gospels: rather than presenting him neutrally until the betrayal, John foreshadows his treachery from the outset, casting him as a malevolent presence within the twelve. What is especially striking, given John’s prologue, is that Jesus is identified as the eternal Logos, the Word of Yahweh who pre-existed his human life and was present at creation itself (John 1:1-3). Yet this pre-existent divine Word nevertheless chose to include within his closest circle one whom he himself described as a devil. This introduces a significant theological question: if Jesus had full knowledge of Judas’s nature and actions, then his deliberate inclusion among the twelve must be understood not as oversight but as purposeful, raising the problem of divine intentionality in appointing a betrayer.

Here are various questions one might inquire about Judas prior to Jerusalem:

Who is named among the twelve disciples?
All four gospels agree that Judas Iscariot is named among the twelve. In Mark (3:19), Matthew (10:4), and Luke (6:16), he appears within the list of disciples, and in John he is referenced explicitly in connection with the group of twelve (6:70–71).
When is Judas first mentioned?
In Mark and Luke, Judas first appears at the moment when Jesus appoints the twelve. Matthew, because of his rearrangement of Mark’s material, introduces Judas later, only when he compiles the list of the twelve in chapter 10. John, however, names Judas in a different context altogether, after many disciples abandon Jesus (6:70–71).
How is Judas described at the time of his appointment?
Mark simply names Judas without additional commentary beyond noting that he would later “hand him over.” Matthew does the same when listing the twelve. Luke, however, adds a sharp note: Judas is the one who “became a traitor” (6:16), foreshadowing his betrayal. John is harsher still: Jesus himself declares, “Did I not choose you, the twelve? Yet one of you is a devil” (6:70).
What prompts the choosing of the twelve?
In Mark, the appointment of the twelve follows the swelling of the crowds and the growing presence of unclean spirits, giving practical reasons for designating disciples to preach and cast out demons. Luke, following Mark, retains the healing and Sabbath controversy but omits the justification of the crowds and demons, simply narrating Jesus’s night of prayer and the selection of twelve. Matthew, by contrast, places the list of twelve after large blocks of teaching material, presenting it more as a pragmatic list than a narrative moment. John situates the naming of Judas not in a commissioning scene at all but in the context of widespread defections, where Judas is introduced as a sinister exception within the group that remains.
What role do Jesus’s family and crowds play at this stage?
Mark emphasizes that the crowds pressed in so heavily that Jesus’s family sought to restrain him, thinking him “out of his mind” (3:21). Luke omits this entirely, consistent with his Christology in which Mary already knows Jesus’s divine origin. Yet, showing editorial fatigue, Luke later reproduces Mark’s scene where Jesus redefines his true family (8:19–21), leaving Jesus apparently dismissive of his mother and brothers without the earlier rationale. Matthew does not connect Judas’s naming with family tension at all. John’s narrative makes no mention of Jesus’s family in connection with Judas’s introduction.
How early is Judas singled out as hostile?
In Mark and Matthew, Judas is simply a name on a list until the Passion. Luke foreshadows his treachery with the description that he “became a traitor.” John goes further, making hostility central from the start: Judas is called “a devil” and is introduced in a scene of mass defections, suggesting his malevolence from the outset.

In summary, the portrayal of Judas prior to the Jerusalem narrative differs markedly across the four gospels. In Mark, Judas first appears in the simple listing of the twelve, with no commentary beyond his eventual role in handing Jesus over. Luke, following Mark, likewise names him at the appointment of the twelve but adds the anticipatory note that he “became a traitor.” Matthew, having reorganized Mark’s material, presents Judas only in a list of the disciples, with no narrative function until later. In contrast, John offers a strikingly different characterization: Judas is introduced earlier, singled out directly by Jesus as “a devil,” and depicted against the backdrop of mass defections among other disciples. The synoptic gospels thus maintain a relatively restrained presentation of Judas before the events in Jerusalem, whereas John provides an overtly hostile foreshadowing of his treachery. Together, these four sightings reveal not a single, uniform portrayal but rather four distinct theological emphases: Mark’s narrative economy, Luke’s editorial sharpening, Matthew’s structural pragmatism, and John’s theological dramatization of Judas as the malevolent presence within the twelve.

paul

before-jerusalem

anointing

3. At Jesus's anointing

The next appearance of Judas in the gospel narratives is associated with the episode of Jesus’s anointing, though the four accounts diverge considerably in setting, timing, and emphasis. In Mark and Matthew, the anointing takes place in Bethany, and it is immediately after this event that Judas goes to the chief priests to arrange the betrayal. In John, the anointing also occurs in Bethany, but here Judas himself is directly involved, objecting to the costly ointment, a detail unique to John’s narrative. Luke, however, offers no such connection: while he does record an anointing earlier in his gospel, it is performed by a different woman in a different context and has no link to Judas. Instead, Judas reappears only later, when Satan enters him just before the Passion. We will now examine these four accounts in turn.

In Mark 11, the narrative begins with Jesus’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem. This scene is often understood as a deliberate parallel to the Roman practice of generals entering the city (often Rome) in triumph after military victory, though here the imagery is inverted: Jesus enters not with legions and spoils of war but humbly, seated on a colt, acclaimed by crowds waving branches. Following this entry, Mark continues with a sequence of events in Jerusalem: the cleansing of the temple, disputes with the authorities, and eschatological teaching. It is in the midst of these narratives, as the Passion approaches, that the anointing at Bethany is introduced.

Mark 14:1-2 gives the timeline:

It was two days before the Passover and the Festival of Unleavened Bread. The chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill him, for they said, “Not during the festival, or there may be a riot among the people.”

Next, in Mark 14:3-9, we encounter the account of Jesus’s anointing. It is important to note that the objection does not come from Judas alone but from “some” of those present, who speak among themselves in anger:

While he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper,

as he sat at the table, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his head.

But some were there who said to one another in anger,

“Why was the ointment wasted in this way? For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor.”

And they scolded her.

But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish, but you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”

Only after this episode is Judas named explicitly in Mark 14:10-11:

Then Judas Iscariot, who was one of the twelve, went to the chief priests in order to betray him to them.

When they heard it, they were greatly pleased and promised to give him money.

So he began to look for an opportunity to betray him.

In Mark’s account of the anointing, the objection to the woman’s act is voiced not by Judas alone but by “some” of those present, meaning that multiple disciples, perhaps all, complain together that the costly ointment should have been sold and the proceeds given to the poor. Only after this collective protest does Mark single out Judas, when he departs from the group and goes to the chief priests to arrange the betrayal.

Matthew introduces the anointing narrative with a brief prophetic timeline (Matthew 26:1-5): Jesus warns his disciples that the Passover is near and that the Son of Man will be handed over to be crucified. At the same time, the chief priests and elders gather in Caiaphas’s courtyard, conspiring to arrest Jesus but postponing action until after the festival to avoid provoking a riot.

When Jesus had finished saying all these things, he said to his disciples, “You know that after two days the Passover is coming, and the Son of Man will be handed over to be crucified.”

Then the chief priests and the elders of the people gathered in the courtyard of the high priest, who was called Caiaphas, and they conspired to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill him. But they said, “Not during the festival, or there may be a riot among the people.”

Following this, Matthew presents an anointing scene closely resembling Mark’s (26:6-13), but with a key difference: in Mark it is “some” who object, whereas in Matthew it is explicitly “the disciples” who become angry, asking why the ointment was wasted instead of sold for a large sum to be given to the poor. Jesus defends the woman’s act, interpreting it as preparation for his burial and affirming that her deed will be remembered wherever the gospel is proclaimed.

Next, we get a similar story to that in Mark, but now it appears to be all of the disciples who complain, as is recorded in Matthew 6-13:

Now while Jesus was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper,

a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment, and she poured it on his head as he sat at the table.

But when the disciples saw it, they were angry and said,

“Why this waste? For this ointment could have been sold for a large sum and the money given to the poor.”

But Jesus, aware of this, said to them, “Why do you trouble the woman? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, but you will not always have me. By pouring this ointment on my body she has prepared me for burial. Truly I tell you, wherever this good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”

Only after this episode does Matthew introduce Judas (Matthew 26:14-16). Unlike in Mark, where the priests merely promise to give him money, Matthew emphasizes that they pay Judas immediately, thirty pieces of silver, after which he begins to look for an opportunity to betray Jesus. This detail not only heightens Judas’s culpability but also links the narrative explicitly to the prophecy of Zechariah 11:12-13, which Matthew later cites.

Then one of the twelve, who was called Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and said, “What will you give me if I betray him to you?”

They paid him thirty pieces of silver.

And from that moment he began to look for an opportunity to betray him.

In Mark, the last two lines were:

When they heard it, they were greatly pleased and promised to give him money.

So he began to look for an opportunity to betray him.

That last line in both Mark and Matthew, respectively, are:

καὶ ἐζήτει πῶς αὐτὸν εὐκαίρως παραδοῖ.

καὶ ἀπὸ τότε ἐζήτει εὐκαιρίαν ἵνα αὐτὸν παραδῷ.

While some words are identical, and others with the same root, there is never-the-less a subtle difference:

Mark emphasizes the process of searching. Judas is actively trying to figure out how to carry out the betrayal in a way that would be timely. The focus is on means and method.
Matthew emphasizes time and opportunity. From that moment onward, Judas is not trying to figure out how, but waiting for when: the right opportunity.

Why Matthew’s form feels “plagiarized”?

He has replaced Mark’s πῶς (how) with his favorite temporal marker ἀπὸ τότε (from then on).
But instead of recasting the whole sentence smoothly, he keeps Mark’s ἐζήτει … παραδῷ frame and awkwardly inserts εὐκαιρίαν ἵνα.
The result looks like he is editing Mark rather than composing fresh Greek.

A smoother Matthew would have written:

καὶ ἀπὸ τότε ἐζήτει εὐκαιρίαν παραδοῦναι αὐτόν.

Had Matthew used this more idiomatic form, he would have been emphasizing the pursuit of a concrete chance. The stress would fall not on abstract “opportunity” as a concept, nor on figuring out the method, but on Judas’s active watchfulness for the right occasion to act. The nuance is more practical and immediate: Judas is looking for the moment, a specific circumstance that will allow him to hand Jesus over.

Among the four gospels, Matthew alone specifies the amount that Judas received for betraying Jesus: thirty pieces of silver. The other accounts simply state that Judas was promised or given money, without detail. By fixing the amount, Matthew introduces a symbolic layer absent from the others. The coinage is not named, but the most likely reference is to shekels rather than denarii. The Tyrian shekel was the silver coin commonly used in Judea for the temple tax and other payments, and it carried high purity. Thirty such shekels would equal about four months’ wages for a laborer: enough to make the transaction weighty, but not extravagant. The choice of shekels also aligns Matthew’s narrative with scriptural precedent in a way denarii would not.

This amount recalls the legislation in Exodus 21:32, where the price of compensation for the death of a slave is set at thirty shekels of silver: “If the ox gores a male or female slave, the owner shall pay to the slaveowner thirty shekels of silver, and the ox shall be stoned.” By echoing this valuation, Matthew suggests that Judas has reduced the life of Jesus to that of a slave, underscoring both the indignity of the betrayal and the irony of placing so meager a price on the one Matthew presents as the messiah. Later, Matthew will also connect this sum to prophecy, but at this point the stress falls on the monetary detail itself and the way it devalues Jesus’s life.

In Matthew’s version of the anointing and betrayal, the narrative is sharpened and intensified in comparison with Mark. Whereas Mark has only “some” complain about the woman’s act, Matthew explicitly implicates all the disciples in their indignation, heightening the contrast between their collective failure and the woman’s devotion. Judas is then singled out immediately afterward, and unlike in Mark, he does not merely receive a promise of payment but is paid the thirty pieces of silver (the price of a slave) on the spot, tying the story directly to prophetic fulfillment. From that moment, Judas is described as seeking not the means of betrayal, as in Mark, but rather the right opportunity, a shift in emphasis from scheming to watchfulness. The portrayal thus stresses decisive turning points, collective responsibility, prophetic fulfillment, and Judas’s vigilance for the opportune moment, features that will become especially significant when compared with the next account.

In Luke, the anointing occurs far earlier in the ministry, in the house of Simon the Pharisee (Luke 7:36-50), and is presented as a story of forgiveness, not as preparation for Jesus’s burial. This earlier placement means that by the time Jesus reaches Jerusalem, there is no Bethany anointing and no accompanying indignation from the disciples. What remains in Luke is the surrounding material: the priests’ plot to kill Jesus and Judas’s decision to betray him (Luke 22:1-6):

Now the Festival of Unleavened Bread, which is called the Passover, was near. The chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to put

Jesus to death, for they were afraid of the people.

Then Satan entered into Judas called Iscariot, who was one of the twelve; he went away and conferred with the chief priests and officers of the temple police about how he might betray him to them.

They were greatly pleased and agreed to give him money.

So he consented and began to look for an opportunity to betray him to them when no crowd was present.

Here, however, several important differences emerge. First, Luke removes any suggestion that Judas’s betrayal was motivated by indignation over money or extravagance, as in Mark and Matthew. Instead, Luke attributes Judas’s decision directly to a supernatural cause: “Then Satan entered into Judas called Iscariot” (22:3). Only Luke (and later John in a different context) explicitly makes Satan the immediate agent of Judas’s action. This has the effect of absolving the disciples as a group from complicity in complaining against the woman and places the betrayal squarely in the realm of cosmic conflict between God and Satan.

Second, Luke differs on the matter of payment. Like Mark, Luke says only that the priests “agreed to give him money” (22:5), not that Judas was paid immediately as in Matthew. But unlike Mark, Luke emphasizes secrecy: Judas seeks an opportunity to betray Jesus “when no crowd was present” (22:6). This condition, absent from both Mark and Matthew, highlights Luke’s concern with the volatility of the crowds and the authorities’ fear of public unrest.

Finally, Luke’s restructuring produces tensions when compared with Mark and Matthew. In those gospels, Judas’s betrayal flows narratively from the Bethany anointing: the woman’s costly devotion stands in stark contrast to Judas’s treachery. In Luke, however, that contrast disappears. The anointing and the betrayal are severed by many chapters, so the reader is left with no proximate cause for Judas’s change of heart: only the explanation that Satan himself has taken hold of him. Thus, Luke both simplifies and complicates the story: simplifying by removing the disciples’ complaints and the Bethany anointing, complicating by attributing Judas’s decision to demonic possession rather than to human disillusionment or greed.

Only in Luke does it say that Satan “entered” Judas, while in Mark and Matthew, the proximity of the anointing of Jesus and the associated negativity would suggest that it was the lavish spending on the ointment that caused Judas to become disillusioned by his teacher that he agreed to betray Jesus. Like Mark (from whom the author of Luke copied), there is only an agreement to pay Judas.

The four gospels diverge sharply in how they describe Judas’s turn to betrayal. In Mark, the betrayal follows immediately after the anointing at Bethany: Judas, apparently disillusioned by the woman’s costly act and Jesus’s defense of it, goes to the chief priests, with no reference to Satan or inherent evil (Mark 14:10–11). Matthew follows Mark closely but heightens the role of money, specifying that Judas receives thirty pieces of silver at once (Matthew 26:14–16). In both accounts, Judas’s betrayal is explained in narrative terms (disappointment and greed) rather than cosmic forces. Luke, however, departs from this pattern, attributing Judas’s decision directly to demonic influence: “Then Satan entered into Judas called Iscariot” (Luke 22:3). Here Judas is not portrayed as innately wicked but as overtaken by an external, spiritual power. John offers the sharpest contrast: Jesus identifies Judas much earlier as fundamentally corrupt, declaring, “Did I not choose you, the twelve? Yet one of you is a devil” (John 6:70). Thus, where Mark and Matthew root Judas’s betrayal in human motives, Luke shifts the cause to Satan’s agency, and John presents Judas himself as diabolical from the beginning, reinforcing his role as the narrative embodiment of opposition to Jesus.

Luke’s account differs sharply from Mark and Matthew. The anointing occurs much earlier, in Galilee rather than Bethany, and it is performed by a “sinful woman” in the house of Simon the Pharisee. The focus is entirely on forgiveness and love, not on preparation for Jesus’s burial. There is no protest from Judas or from the disciples, but only skepticism from the Pharisee about Jesus’s prophetic authority. Later, when Judas agrees to betray Jesus (22:1–6), Luke explains it not as the result of disillusionment after the anointing but as the direct consequence of Satan entering him, with Judas thereafter seeking an opportunity to act “when no crowd was present.” In Luke, then, the threads of discipleship failure, money, and devotion to Jesus are untangled: the disciples are spared implication, the anointing is detached from the Passion, and Judas’s decision is cast as a moment of cosmic conflict.

In the Gospel of John, the anointing occurs not after the triumphal entry but before it, and not two days but six days before Passover (John 12:1-8):

Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead.

There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those reclining with him.

Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’s feet, and wiped them with her hair.

The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.

But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said,

“Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?”

(He said this not because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.)

Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

Here Judas alone is identified as the complainer, in sharp contrast to Mark, where “some” objected, and Matthew, where “the disciples” as a whole are said to have been indignant. John thus isolates Judas’s greed and corruption from the rest of the group, giving the episode a much more pointed character than the Synoptics. The details are also distinct: the location is the home of Lazarus, not Simon the leper; Mary, the sister of Martha, is explicitly named as the woman who anoints Jesus, unlike the anonymous women in Mark and Matthew. Oddly, Mary and Martha are otherwise mentioned only in Luke, but Luke never connects them to the anointing. Instead, Luke presents a separate story (10:38–42) in which Martha is portrayed as distracted with service while Mary listens at Jesus’s feet. John alone both links Mary and Martha to Lazarus and associates them with the anointing.

Thus, while Mark and Matthew largely agree on the facts of the anointing, with Matthew adding the unique detail of Judas’s immediate payment, Luke and John diverge sharply. Luke relocates the anointing to Galilee in a forgiveness story and omits any Passion connection, while John shifts the anointing to just before the triumphal entry, identifies the woman as Mary, and isolates Judas as the sole objector. Taken together, these differences reveal not minor variations but irreconcilable divergences in setting, timing, participants, and motivation.

Nevertheless, John’s placement can be aligned with Matthew and Mark if their accounts are read as flashbacks. In John, the anointing clearly precedes the triumphal entry into Jerusalem: Bethany is explicitly identified as Jesus’s last stop before the city, and the anointing occurs in that context. If Matthew and Mark, however, have chosen to recount the Bethany anointing later in their narrative (interpolating it into the Passion story as a theological frame for Judas’s betrayal) then the event itself could still have happened at the same point as John records. In other words, the apparent discrepancy may be explained by recognizing that Matthew and Mark relocate the event literarily for contrast, while John preserves the sequence of events chronologically.

On this reading, the four gospels offer two different uses of the same story. Matthew and Mark highlight the contrast: the woman’s costly devotion is placed directly against Judas’s betrayal for money, drawing attention to the moral and theological gulf between them. John highlights the chronology: Jesus’s anointing before entering Jerusalem anticipates his Passion but also underscores the devotion of Mary, whom he defends against Judas. In this way, John’s timing and Matthew/Mark’s placement can be seen not as contradictory but as distinct literary strategies serving different theological purposes.

To assess the accounts of Jesus’s anointing and Judas’s resolve to betray him, we may pose a series of questions, ordered from those where the gospels are largely in agreement to those where their accounts diverge most radically.

Who betrayed Jesus?
In every gospel, the betrayer is Judas Iscariot, one of the twelve disciples. On this point, there is complete agreement.
When does the anointing take place?
Mark and Matthew place the anointing during the Passion narrative, in Bethany, and they tie it closely to Judas’s decision to betray Jesus. John places it earlier, six days before Passover, also in Bethany, immediately before the triumphal entry. This apparent discrepancy can be resolved if Mark and Matthew are read as presenting the anointing as a flashback, placing it literarily within the Passion story for effect. Luke, however, relocates an anointing altogether out of the Passion. In his gospel it occurs much earlier, in Galilee, where it functions as a lesson on forgiveness rather than as preparation for burial.
Where does the anointing take place?
Mark and Matthew both describe the anointing as taking place in the house of Simon the leper, in Bethany. John sets it instead in the home of Lazarus, Martha, and Mary in Bethany. Luke differs most of all, situating it in Galilee, in the house of Simon the Pharisee, and in a narrative context entirely separate from Jesus’s final week.
Who is the woman?
In Mark, the woman is unnamed and anoints Jesus’s head. In Matthew, likewise, the woman is unnamed and anoints his head. In Luke, she is an unnamed “sinful woman” who anoints Jesus’s feet with ointment and tears, wiping them with her hair. John is the only gospel to identify her: Mary, the sister of Martha, who anoints Jesus’s feet and wipes them with her hair.
What part of Jesus’s body is anointed?
In Mark and Matthew, the woman anoints Jesus’s head, evoking the anointing of kings and prophets. In Luke and John, the focus shifts to Jesus’s feet, an action intimate and humble rather than regal, and in Luke accompanied by tears of repentance.
What is the meaning of the anointing?
Mark interprets the anointing as preparation for burial: “She has anointed my body beforehand for its burial” (14:8). Matthew is similar: “By pouring this ointment on my body she has prepared me for burial” (26:12). Luke, however, gives it a completely different meaning: Jesus declares that the woman’s sins are forgiven, and her act demonstrates love (7:47). John returns to the burial theme, though more obliquely: “She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial” (12:7). Thus, while Mark, Matthew, and John see burial symbolism, Luke interprets the anointing as a sign of forgiveness and devotion.
Who protests the anointing?
In Mark, it is “some” of those present who complain that the ointment could have been sold and the money given to the poor. In Matthew, the protest comes from “the disciples” as a whole. In Luke, there is no complaint about money at all: instead Simon the Pharisee objects that Jesus is allowing a sinful woman to touch him. In John, Judas alone voices the objection, and the narrator adds that his concern for the poor was insincere, since he was a thief who stole from the common purse.
When does Judas decide to betray Jesus?
In Mark and Matthew, Judas’s decision follows immediately after the anointing at Bethany, suggesting a narrative connection between the woman’s costly act and Judas’s disillusionment (Mark 14:10–11; Matthew 26:14–16). In Luke, however, Judas’s decision is not tied to the anointing at all; instead, it comes later, when “Satan entered into Judas” (Luke 22:3). In John, Judas speaks during the anointing itself, objecting to the waste of perfume (John 12:4–6), but his actual resolve to betray Jesus comes only later at the Last Supper, when Satan enters him (John 13:27).
Why does Judas betray Jesus?
Mark leaves Judas’s motive implicit, with the narrative sequence implying disappointment after the anointing. Matthew makes greed the motive, since Judas is paid immediately with thirty pieces of silver (26:15). Luke presents a cosmic cause: Judas acts because Satan enters him, not because of disillusionment or money (22:3). John makes Judas’s inner corruption central: he is called a thief who cared nothing for the poor (12:6), and his betrayal is consistent with his already diabolical nature (6:70; 13:27).
Does Judas speak during the anointing?
In Mark and Matthew, Judas says nothing during the anointing itself; he only acts afterward. In Luke, Judas is absent from the anointing scene entirely. In John, Judas alone is the voice of complaint, and his words are quoted directly: “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” (12:5).
When does Judas go to the priests?
In Mark, Judas departs immediately after the anointing to confer with the chief priests (14:10). Matthew follows the same sequence: Judas goes to the priests directly after the anointing (26:14). In Luke, however, Judas’s approach to the priests is narrated later, detached from any anointing, and is prompted by Satan entering him (22:3–6). In John, Judas does not formally move to betray Jesus until the Last Supper, when Satan enters him (13:27).
Why does Judas agree to betray Jesus?
In Mark, the sequence implies that Judas’s disillusionment after the woman’s costly devotion leads to his betrayal. Matthew sharpens this by showing Judas motivated by money, since he is immediately paid thirty pieces of silver. Luke attributes his decision not to money or disillusionment but to direct demonic influence: “Then Satan entered into Judas” (22:3). John explains Judas’s actions as the result of his character: he was a thief, and his complaint about the ointment showed his greed and hypocrisy.
What happens with the payment?
In Mark, Judas is promised money, though the amount is unspecified. In Matthew, Judas is paid immediately, receiving thirty pieces of silver: the price of a slave in Exodus 21:32 and the only explicit amount in the gospels. In Luke, the priests agree that Judas will be given money, but there is no mention of how much or when. In John, no payment is mentioned at all in connection with the betrayal at this stage.
How do the priests respond to Judas?
Mark records that the priests were pleased and promised money (14:11). Matthew states that they counted out thirty pieces of silver immediately (26:15). Luke says they were pleased and agreed to pay him (22:5). John does not narrate any meeting with the priests at this stage, focusing instead on Judas’s character and later possession by Satan.
How is Judas characterized at this point?
In Mark, Judas is simply identified as one of the twelve who seeks to betray Jesus, without moral commentary. In Matthew, he becomes an opportunist whose betrayal is tied directly to financial gain. In Luke, he is a passive vessel of Satan’s influence, acting under demonic control rather than out of personal disillusionment or greed. In John, Judas is characterized as corrupt from the outset: a thief, a hypocrite, and the one destined to betray.
Under what circumstances does Judas plan to betray Jesus?
In Mark and Matthew, Judas simply begins to look for an opportunity after striking his agreement with the priests. Luke adds a new detail: Judas seeks to hand Jesus over specifically “when no crowd was present” (22:6), emphasizing secrecy. In John, Judas’s plan is not described until the Last Supper, when Jesus himself identifies him as the betrayer.
How is Judas characterized at this point?
Mark presents him neutrally as “one of the twelve” who decides to hand Jesus over. Matthew portrays him as an opportunist motivated by money. Luke depicts him as the passive instrument of Satan’s power. John describes him from the outset as corrupt, a thief, and even “a devil.”

When the four accounts are set side by side, the divergences are impossible to ignore. While Mark and Matthew generally preserve the same tradition with only slight differences, Luke detaches the anointing entirely from the Passion and attributes Judas’s betrayal to Satan, while John relocates the anointing before the triumphal entry and singles out Judas alone as the objector, tying the event to Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. These are not minor variations in detail but substantive differences in setting, timing, participants, motivation, and meaning. Almost every element of Judas’s actions, from the impetus for betrayal to the handling of money and the interpretation of the anointing, is presented differently. As such, the accounts cannot be harmonized without imposing assumptions that go beyond the texts themselves.

before-the-passover

4. Before the Passover meal

The next time Judas appears in the narrative is at the supper scene. In the Synoptic gospels, this occurs explicitly at the Passover meal (Mark 14:17–21; Matthew 26:20–25; Luke 22:14–23). In the Gospel of John, however, the sequence is strikingly different: the betrayal is narrated the evening before the Passover meal, because John presents Jesus’s execution as taking place on the day of Preparation, when the Passover lambs were being slaughtered (John 19:14). This shift ensures that Jesus, the Lamb of God, dies at the very hour the lambs are sacrificed.

John 13:1-11 begins with an unusual scene:

Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already decided that Judas son of Simon Iscariot would betray Jesus. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from supper, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.”

Here, Judas is already marked by the devil, and yet Jesus continues to include him within the circle of disciples, even washing his feet. This raises a theological tension: if Judas has already been chosen by Satan, why would Jesus later say of the betrayer (in the Synoptic tradition), “It would have been better for that one not to have been born” (Mark 14:21; Matthew 26:24)?

John develops the scene further (John 13:21-30):

After saying this Jesus was troubled in spirit and declared, “Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me.” The disciples looked at one another, uncertain of whom he was speaking. One of his disciples—the one whom Jesus loved—was reclining close to his heart; Simon Peter therefore motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. So while reclining next to Jesus, he asked him, “Lord, who is it?” Jesus answered, “It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish.” So when he had dipped the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas son of Simon Iscariot. After he received the piece of bread, Satan entered into him. Jesus said to him, “Do quickly what you are going to do.” Now no one knew why he said this to him. Some thought that, because Judas had the common purse, Jesus was telling him, “Buy what we need for the festival,” or that he should give something to the poor. So, after receiving the piece of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night.

Thus, in John’s account, Judas is first described as “not clean” (13:11) and earlier still as “a devil” (6:70). The Greek term diabolos is usually translated “devil,” but in Johannine usage it can mean “slanderer” or “accuser,” and in some contexts seems closer to what we would call a demon rather than the singular figure of Satan himself. Later, however, in John 13:27, the terminology shifts: “Satan entered into him.” Here Judas is not merely devil-like or demonic, but becomes the direct agent of the cosmic adversary. This creates an internal tension in John: is Judas simply corrupt, marked as a slanderer or accuser from the beginning, or is he fully overtaken only at the Last Supper by the distinct figure of Satan? If devil refers to a kind of demonic quality, one among many malevolent beings, then Judas is first portrayed as inherently aligned with evil, and only afterward does Satan himself act decisively by entering into him. This layering of titles suggests a deepening of Judas’s role: from one who bears the traits of the demonic (a devil), to one who becomes the chosen vessel of the cosmic adversary (Satan). John thus presents Judas not merely as a failed disciple but as the human locus where the forces of darkness gather at the decisive hour.

Unlike the Synoptic gospels, John never depicts Judas in conversation with the chief priests or striking a bargain with them. In Mark, Matthew, and Luke, Judas himself goes to the authorities, negotiates terms, and either receives or is promised money. By contrast, John presents no such transaction. Judas is first described as “a devil” (6:70), then as one who objects to the costly anointing (12:4–6), and finally as the disciple into whom Satan enters at the supper (13:27). His departure to betray Jesus does not arise from a prior agreement with the priests but from Jesus’s own command: “Do quickly what you are going to do.” In John’s telling, Judas acts not because he has secured a reward but because he has become the chosen vessel of Satan, obeying a command that releases him into the night. This makes John’s portrayal of Judas less about calculated treachery and more about being the instrument through which cosmic darkness moves against the light.

Here are a few more questions to contrast this passage in John and the synoptic gospels:

When is Judas said to have been chosen by the devil?
Earlier in John’s gospel, Judas is described as “a devil” (6:70), already marked as aligned with evil. In chapter 13, this intensifies: “the devil had already decided that Judas … would betray Jesus” (13:2). This double emphasis suggests that Judas is not merely a weak disciple but one already under demonic determination before the supper even begins.
When does Satan enter Judas?
In John, Satan enters Judas only after Jesus hands him the piece of bread during the supper (13:27). In Luke, by contrast, Satan enters Judas earlier, before Judas goes to the priests (22:3). Mark and Matthew never mention Satan at all in connection with Judas. John’s placement therefore creates a sharp contradiction with Luke, since in John Judas is only fully possessed at the Last Supper, not beforehand.
What is the difference between Judas being “a devil” and later having “Satan enter him”?
John uses two distinct terms: Judas is earlier called diabolos (6:70), “a devil,” a word which can also mean “slanderer” or “accuser,” closer to what we might call “demon.” But later, John writes that Satanas entered him (13:27). The shift raises the question: was Judas merely devil-like in character from the start, or did he only become the vessel of Satan himself at the meal? John thus portrays Judas as first inherently corrupt, then later as overtaken by the cosmic adversary.
Does Judas remain for the Passover meal?
In John, no. After receiving the bread and being entered by Satan, Judas departs immediately, and the narrator adds the symbolic comment: “And it was night” (13:30). In the Synoptics, by contrast, Judas stays at table for the Passover meal, a difference that cannot easily be reconciled with John’s account.
Does John depict Judas meeting with the chief priests?
No. Unlike the Synoptics, John never shows Judas approaching the priests or bargaining for silver. Instead, Judas departs only after Jesus gives him the morsel of bread and instructs him to act quickly, emphasizing obedience to Jesus’s word and demonic possession rather than any prior human agreement.

5. At the Passover meal

In Mark 14:17-21,

When it was evening, he came with the twelve. And when they had taken their places and were eating, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me, one who is eating with me.” They began to be distressed and to say to him one after another, “Surely, not I?” He said to them, “It is one of the twelve, one who is dipping bread into the bowl with me. For the Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.”

the betrayal is introduced only in passing, woven into the meal scene without Judas being named. Jesus announces that one of the twelve, one “dipping bread into the bowl with me,” will betray him. The other disciples respond with distress, asking, “Surely not I?” Jesus concludes with the stark warning: “Woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.” Judas himself never speaks in Mark’s account.

In Matthew 26:20-25,

When it was evening, he took his place with the twelve disciples, and while they were eating he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me.” And they became greatly distressed and began to say to him one after another, “Surely not I, Lord?” He answered, “The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me. The Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.” Judas, who betrayed him, said, “Surely not I, Rabbi?” He replied, “You have said so.”

the author follows Mark’s outline but strengthens it by drawing Judas explicitly into the exchange. As in Mark, Jesus warns that one who shares the bowl with him will betray him, but here Judas breaks the silence: “Surely not I, Rabbi?” Jesus responds, “You have said so.” Unlike Mark, where the betrayer remains unnamed, Matthew confronts Judas directly, making him the focus of the warning.

In Luke 22:14–23,

When the hour came, he took his place at the table, and the apostles with him. He said to them, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer, for I tell you, I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he said, “Take this and divide it among yourselves, for I tell you that from now on I will not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.” Then he took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” And he did the same with the cup after supper, saying, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood. But see, the one who betrays me is with me, and his hand is on the table. For the Son of Man is going as it has been determined, but woe to that one by whom he is betrayed!” Then they began to ask one another which one of them it could be who would do this.

strikingly, the author omits any such explicit confrontation at the table, even though he relies on Mark as a source. Jesus still declares that the hand of his betrayer is with him on the table, but the narrative does not include Judas speaking, nor Jesus singling him out. Instead, Luke shifts the focus to the disciples as a group disputing among themselves which of them it might be. The omission is notable: the betrayal is acknowledged, but Judas himself is left unnamed and silent.

Here we face a striking set of theological tensions. In Mark and Matthew, Judas’s betrayal is anticipated and foreordained, “the Son of Man goes as it is written,” yet Judas is still condemned with one of the harshest sayings in the gospels: “It would have been better for that one not to have been born.” If Jesus, as Yahweh’s Son (or Yahweh himself, in high Christology), knew from eternity that Judas’s role was integral to the divine plan, why would he express anger and curse Judas? The narrative seems to struggle between divine necessity and moral blame.

Luke’s omission may be explained by this very tension. Luke, more than any evangelist, consistently shifts agency from Judas himself to Satan. Already earlier in his narrative, he wrote: “Then Satan entered into Judas” (22:3). If Judas is merely the vessel of Satan’s will, then it may have seemed incoherent for Jesus to issue such a bitter condemnation at the table. By leaving out the explicit exchange between Jesus and Judas, Luke avoids putting the blame squarely on Judas in the presence of the disciples and preserves his theological emphasis on cosmic conflict rather than human treachery.

One of the most ironic features of Luke’s account of the Passover meal is what follows immediately after Jesus announces that his betrayer’s hand is on the table (22:21). Rather than focusing on loyalty, grief, or vigilance, the disciples quickly turn to an argument about status: “A dispute also arose among them as to which one of them was to be regarded as the greatest” (22:24). The juxtaposition is jarring. At the very moment when treachery threatens Jesus’s life, his closest followers are preoccupied with questions of prestige in the kingdom. Where Mark and Matthew preserve the gravity of betrayal by leaving the disciples distressed, Luke uniquely transforms the scene into an opportunity for Jesus to teach that true greatness lies in humility and service. The irony thus underscores both the disciples’ misunderstanding and Luke’s theological agenda.

John, for his part, goes even further, sharpening the confrontation. Unlike the Synoptics, he does not portray Judas as motivated by disappointment or money but as commanded by Jesus himself to act (“Do quickly what you are going to do”) and as utterly possessed by Satan at that very moment. Here the betrayal becomes a theologically necessary act through which the Passion is set in motion, underscoring John’s vision of Judas as the embodiment of darkness.

Questions to be raised on this matter:

Does Jesus identify Judas at the meal?
In Mark, no: Judas is unnamed, and the betrayer remains ambiguous. In Matthew, yes: Judas is drawn into dialogue and tacitly confirmed. In Luke, no: Judas is left unnamed, the group as a whole is implicated. In John, yes: Judas is unmistakably identified by the giving of bread.
Does Jesus give Judas instructions?
In Mark and Matthew, no direct instructions are given. In Luke, the betrayer is acknowledged but not addressed. In John, uniquely, Jesus commands Judas: “Do quickly what you are going to do.”
When does Satan enter Judas?
In Mark and Matthew, Satan is never mentioned. In Luke, Satan enters Judas before the meal (22:3). In John, Satan enters Judas at the meal itself, at the moment of receiving the bread (13:27).
Why does Luke omit Judas’s confrontation with Jesus?
Perhaps because Luke has already depicted Judas as possessed by Satan. If Judas is merely the vessel of demonic power, then it may not be coherent for Jesus to single him out with a curse. By leaving out the direct exchange, Luke emphasizes cosmic evil over personal responsibility.
Does Judas leave when he is singled out?
In the Synoptic gospels, no. In Mark, Matthew, and Luke, Judas remains at the table after Jesus identifies the betrayer. In Mark, the narrative moves directly from Jesus’s announcement of betrayal into the institution of the bread and wine, with Judas still present. In Matthew, Judas himself speaks (“Surely not I, Rabbi?”) and Jesus replies, “You have said so,” but Judas does not depart. In Luke, Jesus declares that the betrayer’s hand is on the table, and the disciples dispute among themselves who it might be, but again Judas stays. By contrast, in John, Judas departs immediately after Jesus gives him the morsel of bread: “After receiving the piece of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night” (John 13:30). John alone makes Judas’s departure the dramatic turning point that separates him from the circle of disciples before Jesus’s final discourse.
What do the disciples argue about in Luke after the betrayal is announced?
In Mark and Matthew, the disciples are distressed and ask, “Surely not I?” in response to Jesus’s warning. In Luke, however, their questioning quickly shifts into a quarrel about who among them is the greatest. This ironic twist highlights the disciples’ failure to grasp the gravity of the situation and allows Jesus to instruct them that leadership in his kingdom is defined by humility and service rather than honor or status.

In the Synoptic gospels, Judas remains present throughout the Passover meal, and it is here that Jesus first announces his betrayal. In Mark, the reference is indirect: one of the twelve, sharing bread with him, will hand him over. Matthew sharpens the scene by drawing Judas into dialogue, where he asks, “Surely not I, Rabbi?” and Jesus replies, “You have said so.” Luke, though drawing from Mark, avoids any direct confrontation, instead noting that the betrayer’s hand is on the table and leaving the disciples to dispute among themselves. In all three accounts, Judas does not leave the meal at this point but stays through the institution of the bread and wine. Unlike John, which portrays Judas departing before Passover and before Jesus’s final discourse, the Synoptics depict him silently remaining at the table, an ominous presence in the midst of the first Eucharist.

6. The setting for the betrayal

We finally come to Mark 14:26–42, where Jesus and his disciples finish the Passover meal and withdraw:

When they had sung the hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives...

They went to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.”

He took with him Peter and James and John and began to be distressed and agitated... And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him...

He came and found them sleeping, and he said to Peter, “Simon, are you asleep? Could you not keep awake one hour? Keep awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

And again he went away and prayed, saying the same words. And once more he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were very heavy, and they did not know what to say to him.

He came a third time and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? Enough! The hour has come; the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going. Look, my betrayer is at hand.”

It is clear that they spent a significant time in this garden, for Jesus prays three times while his disciples fall asleep again and again. Mark also uses prophetic imagery here: when Jesus speaks of the “cup,” he invokes the Old Testament motif of the cup of divine wrath (Isaiah 51:17; Jeremiah 25:15; Psalm 75:8). The one who drinks this cup bears God’s judgment. Jesus’s prayer that the cup might “pass” from him, yet his willingness to drink it if it is the Father’s will, heightens the tension between his human dread and his obedience to God. Just before this scene, Mark also explicitly cites Zechariah 13:7: “I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered” (14:27), casting the moment as the fulfillment of prophecy.

Here we meet a striking theological tension: if Jesus is Yahweh, or one with Yahweh, he would have known from eternity, millions of years before these events, that this very hour would come, and that he would return to heaven after only a short period of suffering. Why, then, does he appear so desperate in this brief moment?

The author of Matthew faithfully copies from Mark, so immediately after the Passover meal in Matthew 26:30-46 we find the same sequence of events:

When they had sung the hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives...

Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.”

He took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee and began to be grieved and agitated... And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed..

Then he came to the disciples and found them sleeping, and he said to Peter, “So, could you not stay awake with me one hour? Stay awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

Again he went away for the second time and prayed, ... Again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy.

So leaving them again, he went away and prayed for the third time, saying the same words. Then he came to the disciples and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? Now the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going. Look, my betrayer is at hand.”

Matthew preserves the triple prayer, the repeated sleep of the disciples, and the words about the cup. Again the disciples are unable to keep awake, and again Jesus confronts them: “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” As in Mark, the prayer is not answered with deliverance but with resignation: “The hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners.”

The author of Luke abbreviates the scene but also adds distinctive details in Luke 22:39-46:

He came out and went, as was his custom, to the Mount of Olives, and the disciples followed him...

When he reached the place, he said to them, “Pray that you may not come into the time of trial.” Then he withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, knelt down, and prayed, ...

Then an angel from heaven appeared to him and gave him strength. In his anguish he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down on the ground.

When he got up from prayer, he came to the disciples and found them sleeping because of grief, and he said to them, “Why are you sleeping? Get up and pray that you may not come into the time of trial.”

Jesus prays once, not three times, and when he kneels to pray, “an angel from heaven appeared to him and gave him strength.” In his anguish, he prays more earnestly, and “his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down on the ground.” Unlike in Mark and Matthew, Luke portrays the disciples sleeping not from weakness but “because of grief.” The addition of the angel recalls the infancy narratives, where angels accompanied key turning points, and softens the sense of abandonment. Yet Luke’s striking detail of sweat “like blood” emphasizes the depth of Jesus’s anguish, even as he is supported.

The author of John provides an even more abbreviated preamble in John 18:1:

After Jesus had spoken these words, he went out with his disciples across the Kidron Valley to a place where there was a garden, which he and his disciples entered.

The Kidron Valley is between Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives, and the Garden of Gethsemane is at the foot of the Mount of Olives, so all of the geographical details align, but gone is any portrayal of Jesus’s distress or his prayer that the cup might pass. Instead, John later has Jesus rebuke Peter with the opposite emphasis: “Shall I not drink the cup that the Father has given me?” (18:11). Where Mark, Matthew, and Luke stress Jesus’s vulnerability, John stresses his control and calm embrace of the divine will.

Questions to ask:

Does Jesus pray to avoid his fate?
Yes, in Mark and Matthew he begs that the “cup” pass from him, though he submits to God’s will. In Luke, he also asks but is strengthened by an angel, making the scene less about fear than perseverance. In John, no: Jesus does not pray to escape; instead he embraces the “cup” given by the Father.
How many times does Jesus pray?
In Mark and Matthew, Jesus prays three times, returning to find the disciples asleep after each attempt. In Luke, he prays only once, and the angel strengthens him. In John, there is no prayer at all before the arrest.
Do the disciples sleep repeatedly or only once?
In Mark and Matthew, Jesus finds them asleep three times. In Luke, they are only discovered sleeping once, and the reason given is “grief” rather than weakness. In John, the entire scene is absent.
What causes Jesus’s distress?
In Mark and Matthew, he is distressed and agitated, overwhelmed by sorrow. In Luke, his anguish is so great that his sweat is “like drops of blood,” though he is strengthened by an angel. In John, there is no anguish at all: Jesus acts with calm authority.
What role does the angel play?
In Luke alone, an angel appears to strengthen Jesus during his prayer, echoing earlier angelic interventions in Luke’s birth narratives. Mark, Matthew, and John do not mention an angel, leaving Jesus alone in his anguish (or, in John’s case, not anguished at all).
How does Jesus interpret the “cup”?
In Mark and Matthew, it is the dreaded symbol of judgment, something he pleads might pass. In Luke, the emphasis is on his earnest prayer in anguish, but the cup metaphor is retained. In John, the cup becomes a positive sign of obedience: “Shall I not drink it?”
What prophecy is fulfilled?
In Mark and Matthew, Zechariah 13:7 about striking the shepherd is cited explicitly. Luke and John omit this reference, preferring their own theological emphases (Luke on anguish, John on divine control).
Where is the setting located?
In Mark, Matthew, and Luke, Jesus goes to the Mount of Olives or a place called Gethsemane, but the geography is left vague. John alone specifies: Jesus crosses the Kidron Valley to a garden, locating the event more precisely between Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives.

The four gospels thus present strikingly different pictures of Jesus in Gethsemane. Mark and Matthew emphasize his raw humanity: distressed, agitated, praying desperately that the cup might pass, yet resigned to God’s will, with their narrative framed explicitly by prophecy (Zechariah 13:7, Isaiah 51:17). Luke abbreviates and adapts the scene: Jesus still agonizes, but is strengthened by an angel and sweats blood in anguish, and the disciples’ failure is due to grief rather than weakness. John, by contrast, erases the anguish altogether and presents Jesus as a serene, sovereign figure who willingly embraces the cup. At the very least, these accounts reveal the gospels’ distinct theological emphases: Mark and Matthew foreground prophecy and the humanity of Jesus; Luke underscores divine support and extraordinary anguish; John insists on Jesus’s divine foreknowledge and authority. The setting for the betrayal, therefore, is not one uniform story but four dramatically different portrayals of how Jesus approaches his impending death.

7. The betrayal

In Mark 14:43-52, Judas arrives immediately while Jesus is still speaking:

Immediately, while he was still speaking, Judas, one of the twelve, arrived, and with him there was a crowd with swords and clubs, from the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders.

Now the betrayer had given them a sign, saying, “The one I will kiss is the man; arrest him and lead him away under guard.”

So when he came, he went up to him at once and said, “Rabbi!” and kissed him.

Then they laid hands on him and arrested him.

But one of those who stood near drew his sword and struck the slave of the high priest, cutting off his ear.

Then Jesus said to them, “Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest me as though I were a rebel? Day after day I was with you in the temple teaching, and you did not arrest me. But let the scriptures be fulfilled.”

All of them deserted him and fled. A certain young man was following him, wearing nothing but a linen cloth. They caught hold of him, but he left the linen cloth and ran off naked.

The betrayer has prearranged a sign: the one whom he kisses is to be arrested. The kiss, in ordinary life a greeting of intimacy and respect, becomes in this context an act of treachery. It also introduces a layer of irony, a gesture of affection used as a signal of betrayal. Judas greets Jesus as “Rabbi” and kisses him, after which the crowd seizes Jesus. One bystander (unnamed in Mark) draws a sword and strikes the slave of the high priest, cutting off his ear. Jesus rebukes the mob for treating him like a rebel, reminding them that he taught openly in the temple without resistance, and concludes, “But let the scriptures be fulfilled.” The scene ends abruptly with the disciples deserting him, and with the curious vignette of a young man who flees naked when seized: a detail unique to Mark, and often interpreted as either a personal memory of the evangelist or a symbolic image of shame and abandonment.

Matthew 27:47-56 follows Mark closely but sharpens some details.

While he was still speaking, Judas, one of the twelve, arrived; with him was a large crowd with swords and clubs, from the chief priests and the elders of the people.

Now the betrayer had given them a sign, saying, “The one I will kiss is the man; arrest him.”

At once he came up to Jesus and said, “Greetings, Rabbi!” and kissed him.

Jesus said to him, “Friend, do what you are here to do.”

Then they came and laid hands on Jesus and arrested him.

Suddenly one of those with Jesus put his hand on his sword, drew it, and struck the slave of the high priest, cutting off his ear.

Then Jesus said to him, “Put your sword back into its place, for all who take the sword will die by the sword. Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send me more than twelve legions of angels? But how then would the scriptures be fulfilled, which say it must happen in this way?”

At that hour Jesus said to the crowds, “Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest me as though I were a rebel? Day after day I sat in the temple teaching, and you did not arrest me. But all this has taken place, so that the scriptures of the prophets may be fulfilled.”

Then all the disciples deserted him and fled.

Judas again identifies Jesus with a kiss, saying, “Greetings, Rabbi!” But Jesus responds with the enigmatic words, “Friend, do what you are here to do.” The unnamed disciple cuts off the slave’s ear, and Jesus adds a fuller rebuke: “Put your sword back into its place, for all who take the sword will die by the sword.” Matthew alone records Jesus’s declaration that he could call on twelve legions of angels but refrains so that “the scriptures of the prophets may be fulfilled.” The emphasis is on divine necessity: Jesus submits willingly, knowing his arrest must fulfill prophecy. The disciples once again desert him.

Luke 22:47-53 again follows Mark’s structure but adds distinctive touches.

While he was still speaking, suddenly a crowd came, and the one called Judas, one of the twelve, was leading them.

He approached Jesus to kiss him, but Jesus said to him, “Judas, is it with a kiss that you are betraying the Son of Man?”

When those who were around him saw what was coming, they asked, “Lord, should we strike with the sword?” Then one of them struck the slave of the high priest and cut off his right ear.

But Jesus said, “No more of this!” And he touched his ear and healed him.

Then Jesus said to the chief priests, the officers of the temple police, and the elders who had come for him, “Have you come out with swords and clubs as though I were a rebel? When I was with you day after day in the temple, you did not lay hands on me. But this is your hour and the power of darkness!”

Judas approaches to kiss Jesus, but here Jesus interrupts him: “Judas, is it with a kiss that you are betraying the Son of Man?” The swordplay is anticipated by the disciples’ question, “Lord, should we strike with the sword?” Luke clarifies that the ear cut off is the slave’s right ear, and alone among the gospels records that Jesus heals the wound, embodying his nonviolence even in the moment of betrayal. Jesus then addresses the leaders, not just the crowd, saying, “This is your hour, and the power of darkness.” The arrest is framed not simply as political action but as a manifestation of cosmic evil.

John 18:1-12 departs most dramatically:

After Jesus had spoken these words, he went out with his disciples across the Kidron Valley to a place where there was a garden, which he and his disciples entered.

Now Judas, who betrayed him, also knew the place because Jesus often met there with his disciples.

So Judas brought a detachment of soldiers together with police from the chief priests and the Pharisees, and they came there with lanterns and torches and weapons.

Then Jesus, knowing all that was to happen to him, came forward and asked them, “Whom are you looking for?”

They answered, “Jesus of Nazareth.”

Jesus replied, “I am he.”

Judas, who betrayed him, was standing with them.

When Jesus said to them, “I am he,” they stepped back and fell to the ground.

Again he asked them, “Whom are you looking for?”

And they said, “Jesus of Nazareth.”

Jesus answered, “I told you that I am he. So if you are looking for me, let these people go.”

This was to fulfill the word that he had spoken, “I did not lose a single one of those whom you gave me.”

Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it, struck the high priest’s slave, and cut off his right ear. The slave’s name was Malchus.

Jesus said to Peter, “Put your sword back into its sheath. Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given me?”

So the soldiers, their officer, and the Jewish police arrested Jesus and bound him.

Judas is present but does not kiss Jesus. Instead, Jesus steps forward voluntarily and identifies himself twice: “Whom are you looking for?” … “I am he.” At the first declaration, the soldiers and officers fall backward to the ground, a detail unique to John and heavy with theological symbolism: the mere utterance of Jesus’s identity topples his opponents. Judas is mentioned only as “standing with them.” The sword is wielded by Simon Peter, not an anonymous disciple, and the slave whose ear is cut off is named Malchus. Jesus rebukes Peter: “Put your sword back … Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given me?” Here, the “cup” imagery returns, but unlike in the Synoptics, Jesus embraces it rather than shrinking from it. John makes no mention of a kiss, no words from Judas, no ambiguity: Jesus is in control, fulfilling his mission with divine authority.

There is also the additional funny story of the soldiers stepping back and falling on the ground when Jesus says “I am he.” It is hilariously funny, and not at all suggested in any of the synoptic gospels.

Another striking difference lies in how each gospel frames the fulfillment of prophecy. In Mark and Matthew, Jesus declares that the arrest fulfills the Scriptures of the prophets, echoing texts such as Zechariah 13:7 (“Strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered”). In Luke, the emphasis shifts to the cosmic dimension: “This is your hour, and the power of darkness” (22:53), without citing a specific text. John, however, takes a unique approach. Rather than quoting the Hebrew Scriptures, the evangelist claims that the arrest fulfills Jesus’s own words: “This was to fulfill the word that he had spoken, ‘I did not lose a single one of those whom you gave me’” (18:9), recalling his earlier teaching in John 6:39–40. For John, Jesus himself is the source of prophecy, and his word carries the same authority as Scripture. Thus, the betrayal is not only foreseen by ancient prophets but guaranteed by the Logos’s own prior declaration.

The groups who come to arrest Jesus also differ strikingly. Mark describes a “crowd with swords and clubs, from the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders.” Matthew expands this to “a large crowd … from the chief priests and the elders of the people.” Luke simplifies to “a crowd.” John, however, escalates it to “a detachment of soldiers together with police from the chief priests and the Pharisees,” turning the arrest into a large-scale, militarized action.

Questions to ask:

How does Judas identify Jesus?
In Mark and Matthew, by a kiss accompanied by a greeting (“Rabbi” or “Greetings, Rabbi”). In Luke, Judas attempts to kiss Jesus, but Jesus confronts him before the act. In John, there is no kiss at all; Jesus identifies himself.
What words does Jesus speak to Judas?
In Mark, none. In Matthew, “Friend, do what you are here to do.” In Luke, “Judas, is it with a kiss that you are betraying the Son of Man?” In John, Judas is silent and Jesus addresses only the soldiers.
Who cuts off the slave’s ear?
In Mark and Matthew, an unnamed bystander or disciple. In Luke, still unnamed, though the disciples first ask permission. In John, it is explicitly Simon Peter.
What happens to the wounded slave?
In Mark and Matthew, nothing further is said. In Luke, Jesus heals the ear. In John, the slave is named (Malchus) but not healed.
How does Jesus respond to the violence?
In Mark, with a general rebuke of the arresting crowd. In Matthew, with a prohibition of violence and an appeal to divine legions. In Luke, with “No more of this!” and a healing. In John, with a command to Peter and an affirmation of drinking the Father’s cup.
What is the scale of the arresting party?
In Mark: a crowd with swords and clubs. In Matthew: a large crowd from the priests and elders. In Luke: simply “a crowd.” In John: a detachment of soldiers plus temple police.
What scriptures are fulfilled?
In Mark and Matthew, Jesus explicitly says the arrest fulfills Scripture (Zechariah 13:7, “strike the shepherd”). In Luke, the emphasis is on the “hour of darkness.” In John, fulfillment is tied not to Zechariah but to Jesus’s own words in John 6, that he would “lose none of those given to him.”

The betrayal scene, which might appear at first glance to be a single shared tradition, diverges sharply across the gospels. Mark offers a terse and almost brutal narrative, punctuated by the enigmatic “naked young man.” Matthew, in characteristic fashion, intensifies prophecy-fulfillment and has Jesus explicitly condemn violence. Luke reframes the kiss as a verbal confrontation and highlights Jesus’s healing compassion, turning the arrest into a clash between light and “the power of darkness.” John, by contrast, strips away Judas’s gesture, gives Jesus full initiative, names both Peter and Malchus, and dramatizes the moment with the soldiers falling back at Jesus’s declaration, “I am he.” Taken together, these variations emphasize different Christologies: the anguished but obedient Son of Mark, the prophetic fulfiller of Matthew, the compassionate and cosmic battler of darkness in Luke, and the divine, sovereign Logos of John.

8. The death of Judas

Only two New Testament accounts describe Judas’s fate, and they diverge radically. Mark, the earliest gospel, contains no account of Judas’s death at all. Judas simply disappears from the story after leading the arresting party into Gethsemane. Since both Matthew and Luke used Mark as their primary narrative source, this silence left them without a template to follow when it came to Judas’s end. As with the birth narratives of Jesus, or with the post-resurrection appearances, the later evangelists filled the gap in their own ways, producing traditions that share the same starting point, Judas the betrayer, but diverge massively in their details. Matthew gives us a remorseful Judas who returns the money, confesses his sin, and hangs himself, while Acts depicts a Judas who acquires a field and dies gruesomely when his body bursts open. The very absence of a Markan precedent highlights how freely the later authors shaped the material to fit their theological aims, and how little agreement exists when they step beyond Mark’s narrative.

In Matthew 27:3-10, we have:

When Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders.

He said, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.”

But they said, “What is that to us? See to it yourself.”

Throwing down the pieces of silver in the temple, he departed, and he went and hanged himself.

But the chief priests, taking the pieces of silver, said, “It is not lawful to put them into the treasury, since they are blood money.”

After conferring together, they used them to buy the potter’s field as a place to bury foreigners. For this reason that field has been called the Field of Blood to this day. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah, “And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of the one on whom a price had been set, on whom some of the people of Israel had set a price, and they gave them for the potter’s field, as the Lord commanded me.”

Here, Judas experiences remorse when he sees that Jesus has been condemned. He returns the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders, confessing: “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” They dismiss him coldly: “What is that to us? See to it yourself.” Judas throws the silver down in the temple and goes away to hang himself. The priests then decide that the coins, being “blood money,” cannot go into the treasury. Instead, they buy the potter’s field as a burial place for foreigners. Matthew comments that this fulfills prophecy: “And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of the one on whom a price had been set … and they gave them for the potter’s field” (27:9–10). Curiously, Matthew attributes this to Jeremiah, though the closest text is Zechariah 11:12–13, with possible influence from Jeremiah 19 and 32. The prophecy itself is thus a conflation, but Matthew frames Judas’s death and the purchase of the field as part of divine foreknowledge.

The story in Acts (written by the same author as Luke) we have in Acts 1:15-26:

In those days Peter stood up among the brothers and sisters (together the crowd numbered about one hundred twenty persons) and said, 16 “Brothers and sisters, the scripture had to be fulfilled, which the Holy Spirit through David foretold concerning Judas, who became a guide for those who arrested Jesus, for he was numbered among us and was allotted his share in this ministry.”

(Now this man acquired a field with the reward of his wickedness, and falling headlong, he burst open in the middle, and all his bowels gushed out. This became known to all the residents of Jerusalem, so that the field was called in their language Hakeldama, that is, Field of Blood.) “For it is written in the book of Psalms,

‘Let his house become desolate, and let there be no one to live in it’;

and

‘Let another take his position of overseer.’

“So one of the men who have accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John until the day when he was taken up from us—one of these must become a witness with us to his resurrection.” So they proposed two, Joseph called Barsabbas, who was also known as Justus, and Matthias. Then they prayed and said, “Lord, you know everyone’s heart. Show us which one of these two you have chosen to take the place in this ministry and apostleship from which Judas turned aside to go to his own place.” And they cast lots for them, and the lot fell on Matthias, and he was added to the eleven apostles.

The author of Luke and Acts narrates Judas’s death through the voice of Peter addressing the gathered believers. Here Judas uses the “reward of his wickedness” to acquire a field. In that field, he dies gruesomely: “falling headlong, he burst open in the middle, and all his bowels gushed out.” The detail is graphic, and Luke comments that everyone in Jerusalem knew of it, calling the place Hakeldama, “Field of Blood.” Unlike Matthew, it is Judas’s body, not foreign burials, that explains the name. Peter quotes Scripture to interpret the event: Psalm 69:25 (“Let his camp become desolate”) and Psalm 109:8 (“Let another take his office”). Judas’s death thus opens the way for the appointment of Matthias to replace him. Luke’s concern is less Judas’s remorse than the fulfillment of Judean scriptures and the establishment of apostolic continuity.

These two accounts are impossible to reconcile without significant special pleading. One depicts a remorseful Judas who repents, returns the silver, and hangs himself; the other, a Judas who acquires land and dies violently, without mention of remorse. One stresses prophetic fulfillment in Jeremiah/Zechariah, the other in the Psalms. Even the name “Field of Blood” receives contradictory explanations.

Here are all the contradictions:

What does Judas do with the silver?
In Matthew, Judas throws the silver into the temple in an act of remorse, wanting no part in it. In Acts, Judas uses the silver himself to acquire a field; not a return of blood money but a purchase with it.
Who purchases the field?
In Matthew, the priests buy the potter’s field with Judas’s rejected coins, making it their project. In Acts, Judas is the buyer, acquiring it with the “reward of his wickedness.”
When is the field acquired: before or after Judas’s death?
In Matthew, Judas is already dead when the priests buy the field. In Acts, Judas acquires it first, and it becomes the place of his gruesome death.
What was the topography of the field?
Matthew implies arable land suitable for burials, since it is designated for foreigners’ graves: likely soft clay soil, consistent with its being a “potter’s field.” In Acts, the terrain must allow for someone to fall headlong with enough force that their body bursts open. That implies uneven or rocky ground, quite different from Matthew’s imagery.
Why was it called Hakeldama (“Field of Blood”)?
In Matthew, because the field was bought with blood money. In Acts, because Judas’s body burst open in it, staining the ground with his own blood.
What was the prior use of the field?
In Matthew, it was a potter’s field, land perhaps already dug for clay extraction, hence less valuable but still useful for burial. Acts makes no mention of its previous use, describing it only as Judas’s ill-gotten acquisition.
Where did Judas commit suicide?
In Matthew, Judas simply goes away and hangs himself; the field is purchased later by the priests and is not directly linked to the place of his death. In Acts, however, Judas dies in the very field he acquired with his reward, falling headlong and bursting open. Thus, in one account his death seems remote from the field’s purchase, while in the other it occurs squarely within it.
What role does prophecy play?
In Matthew, Judas’s actions fulfill Jeremiah (though the wording actually resembles Zechariah 11:12–13), tied to the thirty pieces of silver and the potter’s field. In Acts, Peter cites Psalms 69 and 109, applying them to Judas’s demise and replacement. The prophetic frameworks are entirely different, and even the supposed citations do not line up cleanly with the Hebrew Scriptures.

The death of Judas, far from being a straightforward tradition, exposes sharp contradictions in the gospels. In Matthew, Judas is remorseful, confesses his sin, returns the silver, and hangs himself; the priests then use the coins to buy a potter’s field, fulfilling prophecy. In Acts, Judas himself acquires land with his reward and dies violently when his body bursts open, with prophecy fulfilled instead through the Psalms. Even the “Field of Blood” has competing explanations: blood money in Matthew, Judas’s blood in Acts. Theologically, Matthew highlights Judas’s repentance and the fulfillment of prophetic foreknowledge, while Luke-Acts stresses apostolic continuity and Judas’s death as a judgment on wickedness. Together, they present not a single story but two incompatible accounts, each shaped by the evangelist’s theological agenda.

the-passover-meal

gethsemane

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9. Use of the Tanakh

Here is a concise summary of the texts that the evangelists (and Acts) invoke or allude to in connection with Judas, what each claims is “fulfilled,” where those claims come from, where they misattribute, and how the narrative details are shaped around those specific texts.

First, we begin with alleged Tanakh “fulfilments” tied to Judas:

Zechariah 11:12-13 (thirty pieces of silver and the house of Yahweh):

I then said to them, “If it seems right to you, give me my wages, but if not, keep them.” So they weighed out as my wages thirty shekels of silver. Then the Lord said to me, “Throw it into the treasury”—this lordly price at which I was valued by them. So I took the thirty shekels of silver and threw them into the treasury in the house of the Lord.

This is explicitly used in Matthew 27:9-10, but misattributed to Jeremiah. The function is to explain the returned “thirty pieces of silver” and the priestly purchase of a potter’s field. Matthew’s storyline (return of the money in the temple, priests refuse “blood money,” field bought for burials) is tailored to echo Zechariah 11’s “thirty silver,” “throw it into the house of the LORD,” and “to the potter.” The Masoretic Text reads “to the potter”; the Septuagint has a different reading (“to the smelter/founder”). Matthew follows a composite, blending Zechariah 11 with Jeremiah (see below).

None of these details appear in Luke or Acts. The author of Luke–Acts shows no awareness of thirty pieces of silver, no scene of Judas returning money in the temple, no priests refusing “blood money,” and no purchase of a potter’s field as a burial ground. Instead, Acts has Judas himself acquire a field with the “reward of his wickedness” and die violently within it (Acts 1:18–19). The explanation for the field’s name, Hakeldama or “Field of Blood,” is also wholly different: in Matthew it derives from the blood money paid to Judas, while in Acts it derives from Judas’s own spilled blood. This silence about Zechariah 11 in Luke–Acts, coupled with the construction of an entirely separate narrative based on the Psalms, underlines how divergent the two traditions are. Each evangelist reaches for different scriptures to frame Judas’s end, and their stories contain elements that serve only their chosen prophetic anchor, without overlap.
Jeremiah 19 and Jeremiah 32 (a composite of potter, field, and blood imagery):
In Matthew 27:9-10, the quotation is attributed not to Zechariah but to Jeremiah, even though the wording most closely resembles Zechariah 11:12-13. This as a composition of these two chapters, since Jeremiah contains two thematically relevant passages: one about a potter and blood guilt, and another about the prophetic purchase of a field.

Jeremiah 19:1-4, 10-11 (the potter’s vessel and blood of the innocent):
Thus says the LORD: Go and buy a potter’s earthenware jug. Take with you some of the elders of the people and some of the senior priests and go out to the valley of the son of Hinnom … and say: Hear the word of the LORD … Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel: I am now bringing such disaster upon this place … Because the people have … filled this place with the blood of the innocent … Then you shall break the jug in the sight of those who go with you and shall say to them: Thus says the LORD of hosts: So will I break this people and this city, as one breaks a potter’s vessel, so that it can never be mended.

The key motifs are a potter’s vessel, the blood of the innocent, and the valley of slaughter. These resonate with Matthew’s concern for “innocent blood” (27:4), his reference to blood money (27:6), and the designation of the purchased site as the “Field of Blood” (27:8).

Jeremiah 32:7-11 (the purchase of a field with silver):
Hanamel son of your uncle Shallum is going to come to you and say, ‘Buy my field that is at Anathoth, for the right of redemption by purchase is yours.’ Then my cousin Hanamel came to me … and said to me, ‘Buy my field that is at Anathoth …’ Then I knew that this was the word of the LORD. And I bought the field at Anathoth from my cousin Hanamel and weighed out the money to him, seventeen shekels of silver. I signed the deed, sealed it, got witnesses, and weighed the money on scales. Then I took the sealed deed of purchase …

The key motifs are a field purchased with silver, the transaction conducted before witnesses, and the prophetic act of securing land. These resonate with Matthew’s depiction of the priests using Judas’s returned silver to buy a field as a burial place (27:7).

Thus, Matthew 27 combines Zechariah 11 (thirty silver, temple, potter) with Jeremiah 19 (potter, blood of the innocent, valley of slaughter) and Jeremiah 32 (field purchased with silver). The evangelist attributes the whole to Jeremiah, likely because Jeremiah was the more prominent prophetic voice in Jewish tradition.

None of this appears in Luke or Acts. Instead, Acts 1:18-19 builds its story around Judas personally acquiring a field and dying gruesomely there, then supports the narrative with Psalms 69 and 109. Once again, Matthew’s details (potter’s field, innocent blood, priests’ purchase) are unique to his scriptural anchor and absent from Luke.
Psalms 41:9 (betrayal by a close friend who eats my bread):
Even my bosom friend in whom I trusted, who ate of my bread, has lifted the heel against me.

This verse is explicitly quoted in John 13:18, where Jesus applies it to Judas during the supper scene. John frames Judas’s betrayal not merely as treachery but as the fulfillment of a psalm about intimate betrayal: a trusted companion, one who shared table fellowship, turning against his benefactor. The symbolism of bread shared in friendship becoming the sign of betrayal is central.

In John’s telling, Jesus identifies his betrayer by dipping a morsel of bread and giving it directly to Judas (13:26). This detail, unique to John, is not incidental: it dramatizes the fulfillment of Psalm 41:9. Judas’s act is not only a human failure of loyalty but a scripturally prefigured betrayal by one who “ate of my bread.”

None of this appears in the synoptic gospels. Mark and Matthew both depict Judas as plotting with the chief priests after the anointing, and they include a general warning at the Passover meal that one of the twelve will betray Jesus, but no direct scriptural citation. Luke omits the anointing link altogether and attributes Judas’s betrayal to Satan entering him. Only John explicitly anchors Judas’s betrayal in Psalm 41:9 and reshapes the supper narrative (morsel, footwashing context, Judas’s departure into the night) around that prophetic text.
Psalms 69:25 and 109:8 (desolation and replacement):
Let their camp be a desolation; let no one live in their tents.
May his days be few; may another seize his position.

Both verses are cited in Acts 1:20 when Peter explains the fate of Judas and the need to appoint a successor. In this retelling, Judas becomes the archetypal enemy of the righteous whose downfall was foretold in the Psalms. The violent description of his death (falling headlong, bursting open, and his bowels gushing out in Acts 1:18) sets the stage for the desolation theme of Psalm 69, while the act of replacing Judas with Matthias directly enacts Psalm 109. The field associated with Judas’s death, Hakeldama or “Field of Blood,” also reinforces the notion of desolation tied to his betrayal.

These details are unique to Acts. Matthew’s account, by contrast, portrays Judas as repentant, returning the thirty pieces of silver, and hanging himself, with the priests later buying a potter’s field. Matthew cites a composite of Zechariah and Jeremiah to frame Judas’s end, not the Psalms. John likewise has no mention of Judas’s death or replacement at all. Only the author of Luke and Acts turns to Psalms 69 and 109, building a narrative around Judas’s violent demise, the notoriety of the field, and the community’s restoration of the apostolic number to twelve.
Zechariah 13:7 (“Strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered”):
Awake, O sword, against my shepherd, against the man who is my associate, says the LORD of hosts. Strike the shepherd, that the sheep may be scattered; I will turn my hand against the little ones.

This verse is explicitly cited by Jesus in Mark 14:27 and repeated in Matthew 26:31. On the night of his arrest, Jesus predicts that his disciples will abandon him, and Mark and Matthew both interpret this scattering as the fulfillment of Zechariah’s prophecy. Here the text does not apply directly to Judas, but rather frames the wider theological meaning of the arrest: the shepherd (Jesus) is struck, and the flock (the disciples) scatter in fear. The prophecy places Judas’s betrayal within a larger divine schema in which the abandonment of Jesus by his followers is foreordained.

Neither Luke nor John use this prophecy. Luke, though copying much from Mark, omits the Zechariah citation entirely, choosing instead to frame the arrest as “your hour, and the power of darkness” (Luke 22:53), a cosmic battle between Jesus and the forces of evil rather than a scattering foretold by Zechariah. John, by contrast, inverts the imagery: rather than the sheep scattering, Jesus declares in the garden arrest scene, “I did not lose a single one of those whom you gave me” (John 18:9), presenting himself as the shepherd who preserves his flock intact even in the moment of betrayal. Thus, while Mark and Matthew interpret the disciples’ desertion as prophecy fulfilled, Luke recasts the moment as a clash with darkness, and John transforms it into a demonstration of Jesus’s sovereign care.
Exodus 21:32 (thirty shekels as the price of a slave):
If the ox gores a male or female slave, the owner shall pay to the slave’s owner thirty shekels of silver, and the ox shall be stoned.

This is not a prophecy but a legal stipulation from the Covenant Code. Nevertheless, the author of Matthew likely alludes to it when he specifies the exact sum Judas receives: “They paid him thirty pieces of silver” (Matt 26:15). Neither Mark, Luke, nor John mention any precise amount of payment; only Matthew fixes the betrayal price at thirty. By invoking this legal valuation, Matthew implicitly frames Jesus as being appraised at the humiliating price of a slave. The theological function is twofold: to underline the contempt with which Jesus is treated, and to tie his betrayal into the Torah’s economic and legal imagery.

The allusion also intensifies Matthew’s prophetic tapestry: whereas the thirty silver coins in Zechariah 11 are a “lordly price” in ironic derision, the Exodus 21 background casts the same sum as the legal worth of a human life at its lowest social valuation. Thus, in Matthew, the price of Jesus’s betrayal resonates with both derision and degradation.

None of the other evangelists pick up this allusion. For Mark, Luke, and John, the narrative logic does not require an amount, and so they leave Judas’s reward unspecified. The detail of thirty shekels is unique to Matthew and reflects his distinctive theological concern with demonstrating that every aspect of Jesus’s passion fulfilled Scripture or echoed the Law.

Next, we look at misattribution or where the citation is of questionable fitness:

Matthew 27:9–10 and the “Jeremiah” citation (misattribution):
Matthew explicitly attributes the field-purchase prophecy to Jeremiah: “Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah” (Matt 27:9). Yet the closest verbal parallel is actually Zechariah 11:12–13 (“thirty shekels of silver … throw it into the house of the LORD … to the potter”). A reaonable conclusion that Matthew is deliberately conflating traditions:

From Jeremiah 19, he borrows the potter and the theme of innocent blood in a valley of slaughter.
From Jeremiah 32, he draws the theme of a field purchased with silver.
From Zechariah 11, he takes the actual thirty pieces of silver and the command to throw it into the house of Yahweh.

By naming Jeremiah rather than Zechariah, Matthew seems to treat Jeremiah as the “heading” prophet of this composite. Strictly speaking, this is a misattribution: the exact wording comes from Zechariah, not Jeremiah. But theologically, Matthew intends his audience to hear a fusion of prophetic motifs: blood, potter, field, silver. These Jeremiah-Zechariah links are stitched into Matthew’s unique account of Judas’s remorse, the priests’ refusal of “blood money,” and the purchase of a potter’s field as a burial place for foreigners: details absent from every other gospel.
Acts 1:20 and the Psalms (not prediction, but just pattern matching):
In Acts, Peter interprets Judas’s end through two psalm quotations: “Let his homestead become desolate” (Ps 69:25) and “Let another take his office” (Ps 109:8). These psalms were originally laments or imprecations against generic enemies of the righteous king, not predictive oracles about Judas. Their reuse here is pattern matching: Judas is cast as the archetypal betrayer whose desolation and displacement were “spoken in scripture.”

Accordingly, the surrounding narrative in Acts is constructed to match these texts: Judas himself “acquires a field with the reward of his wickedness,” dies gruesomely, and the site becomes known as the Field of Blood (Acts 1:18–19), fitting Psalm 69’s desolation motif. Then Matthias is appointed to replace him, fulfilling Psalm 109’s call for another to seize his office. These details are unique to Acts and serve no purpose except to demonstrate the applicability of the Psalms. The author is not preserving memory of Judas’s death parallel to Matthew but rather appears to be reshaping the story to fit categories of judgment and succession recorded in the Psalms.
Zechariah 13:7 and the scattering of the disciples (not Judas-specific):
“Strike the shepherd, that the sheep may be scattered” is cited by Jesus in Mark 14:27 and Matthew 26:31 as a prophecy fulfilled in the disciples’ flight at his arrest. This prophecy is not applied to Judas, nor does it interpret his motives or his end. Instead, it provides a theological rationale for the disciples’ collective abandonment: their scattering is not mere weakness but fulfillment of Scripture.

Luke omits the citation entirely, instead describing the arrest as “your hour, and the power of darkness” (Luke 22:53). John goes further in the opposite direction: Jesus preserves his disciples intact, fulfilling not Zechariah but his own earlier declaration, “I did not lose a single one of those whom you gave me” (John 18:9). Thus, while Mark and Matthew embed Judas’s betrayal in a larger prophetic pattern of scattering, Luke and John frame the arrest in very different theological terms. The prophecy of Zechariah 13:7, therefore, is important in Mark and Matthew’s passion narrative but plays no role in Luke or John, and never directly concerns Judas himself.

Next, we observe that each narrative is shaped around “its” the scriptures identified within it:

Matthew (27:3-10)
Matthew’s account of Judas’s death is carefully tailored to echo Zechariah 11 and imagery from Jeremiah. That is why Judas throws the thirty silver coins back into the temple, why the priests call it “blood money,” and why they purchase a potter’s field to bury foreigners. These are not casual details; they are precisely the pieces Matthew needs to make the story line up with his chosen scriptural texts. No other gospel includes these elements, because no other gospel is trying to show that Jeremiah/Zechariah was “fulfilled” in Judas.
Luke and Acts (Acts 1:15-26)
Luke tells a very different version in Acts. Here the story is built to fit two psalms (Psalm 69 and Psalm 109). Judas himself acquires a field with the “reward of his wickedness,” dies violently there, and the site becomes known as the Field of Blood, not because of money given by priests, but because of Judas’s own gore. Then, to fit Psalm 109, someone must take his place, and Matthias is chosen. None of this appears in Matthew, because Matthew is not working with these psalms. The Acts account exists specifically to bring Judas’s fate in line with those verses.
John (13:18; 13:26-30)
John anchors Judas’s betrayal in Psalm 41:9: “The one who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me.” To make that fit, John highlights the intimacy of table fellowship. Jesus gives Judas a morsel of bread, marking him as the betrayer, and Judas goes out “into the night.” This scene is unique to John, because only John wants to show Judas as the false friend who betrays the very one who fed him.
Mark/Matthew (Gethsemane and the arrest)
Earlier, in the arrest story, Mark (followed by Matthew) ties the scattering of the disciples to Zechariah 13:7: “Strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.” That is why both gospels emphasize the disciples fleeing in the garden after Jesus is seized. There is no mention of fields, potters, or replacements here, because those themes come from different texts. For Mark and Matthew at this point, the scriptural anchor is Zechariah 13, so the focus is on the shepherd struck and the flock in flight.

The result is that there is no shared “Judas narrative” that all the authors are drawing from. Each evangelist shapes Judas’s story around different biblical passages, and the details of the narrative follow the logic of those texts. Matthew’s return of the silver, the potter’s field, and the burial ground are there only because they serve his Jeremiah/Zechariah framework. Acts’ field, bloody death, and replacement are there only because they serve the psalms. John’s bread and nighttime departure are there only because they serve Psalm 41. Mark and Matthew’s scattering disciples exist only because they serve Zechariah 13. The differences are not accidental gaps in memory but deliberate constructions: each author anchoring Judas’s role in different scriptures, and so producing distinct and irreconcilable stories.

The contradictions we have observed across the gospels and Acts do not arise from mere slips of memory or divergent oral traditions. They flow directly from the deliberate scriptural anchors each author selected.

Money and the field
In Matthew, Judas throws the silver into the temple, the priests refuse it as “blood money,” and only afterward do they buy the potter’s field as a burial place for foreigners. This sequence is shaped to echo Zechariah 11 and Jeremiah 19/32. In Acts, by contrast, Judas himself acquires a field with the “reward of his wickedness” before his death, and it is in that field that he perishes. The difference is not a minor detail but a direct outgrowth of the scriptures each writer wanted to invoke: Matthew needed a potter’s field purchased with returned silver; Acts needed a desolate field attached to Judas’s own blood and forfeited office.
Cause of the “Field of Blood”
Matthew explains the name by the blood money used to purchase it. In Acts, however, the field is called Hakeldama because of Judas’s own spilled blood when his body bursts open. Both traditions agree on the title, but the cause differs; because each needs to connect the story to a different scriptural motif (blood money in Matthew and violent desolation in Acts).
Manner and place of death
In Matthew, Judas simply “went and hanged himself,” with no location given. In Acts, Judas dies gruesomely: falling headlong, bursting open, and spilling his entrails in the field he purchased. The contrast could not be sharper: quiet remorse and suicide in Matthew, violent divine judgment in Acts. Again, each choice arises from scriptural logic: Matthew needed a death that set up the priests’ role in fulfilling Jeremiah and Zechariah; Acts needed a death that matched Psalm 69’s desolation and Psalm 109’s replacement.
Prophetic logic
Each author builds Judas’s story around different texts, and the narrative details follow. Matthew presses Jeremiah and Zechariah; Acts presses the Psalms; John presses Psalm 41 with its betrayal-by-a-friend at table; Mark and Matthew, in Gethsemane, invoke Zechariah 13:7 to explain the disciples’ scattering. The result is not one unified Judas story but four (or more) competing ones, each coherent within its own scriptural framework yet contradictory with the others.

The evidence from the gospels and Acts shows clearly that there is no single, shared Judas tradition beneath the texts. Instead, each author selects different passages from the Tanakh and then shapes distinctive, often non-overlapping details in order to present Judas’s betrayal as “fulfilling” Scripture. In Matthew, the centerpiece is thirty silver coins, the temple, and the potter’s field: a carefully constructed composite of Zechariah and Jeremiah, though misattributed by name to Jeremiah. In Acts, the emphasis shifts entirely: Judas himself acquires a field, dies violently in it, and his replacement is justified through Psalms 69 and 109, a pattern-matching application rather than prediction. John anchors Judas’s betrayal in Psalm 41’s image of a false friend at table, while Mark and Matthew invoke Zechariah 13:7 to frame the scattering of the disciples at the arrest.

The result is not a harmonizable story but a collection of scripture-driven constructions. All agree that Judas betrayed Jesus, but they diverge on the amount of money, the purchase of a field, the cause of its name, the manner and location of Judas’s death, the prophecies supposedly fulfilled, and even the very logic of his role. These contradictions are not accidental but deliberate outcomes of the different scriptural frameworks each evangelist employed.

In this sense, Judas himself becomes a paradoxical figure: the betrayer of Jesus who is, in turn, “betrayed” by the gospels: reshaped again and again, not to preserve his memory, but to serve the theological aims of each author.

Questions raised by the Tanakh allusions:

Why does Matthew appeal to Jeremiah and Zechariah, rather than the Psalms or other prophetic texts?
Matthew consistently frames Jesus’s life and death as the fulfillment of prophetic oracles. He introduces formula quotations throughout his gospel (“This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet…”). In Judas’s story, he bends the details to match Jeremiah 19 (potter’s vessel, innocent blood, valley of slaughter), Jeremiah 32 (field bought with silver), and Zechariah 11 (thirty pieces, house of the LORD, potter). By anchoring Judas in the prophets, Matthew presents the betrayal and aftermath not as an accident but as written into Israel’s prophetic history. This prophetic “proof-texting” is characteristic of Matthew’s gospel overall, which aims to show Jesus as the fulfillment of Israel’s scriptures.
Why does Luke and Acts anchor Judas’s fate in the Psalms rather than Jeremiah or Zechariah?
The author’s two-volume work (Luke and Acts) often emphasizes communal experience and continuity. The Psalms serve here as pattern-matching templates: what befell the enemies of the righteous king in Israel’s worship songs also befalls Judas, the enemy within the new community. Psalm 69 explains Judas’s desolation; Psalm 109 justifies his replacement with Matthias. This focus turns Judas into a corporate warning and provides scriptural precedent for restoring the number of the Twelve. Instead of prophets foretelling Judas’s actions in advance, Luke uses Israel’s liturgical songs to frame Judas as the archetypal betrayer, thereby shaping how the community responds after his death.
Why does John cite Psalm 41:9 instead of Jeremiah, Zechariah, or the Psalms Luke uses?
John’s Jesus is the eternal Logos, divine and omniscient, who nonetheless allows betrayal to unfold as part of his mission. For John, the most fitting text is Psalm 41:9: the betrayal of a close friend at the table. This psalm captures intimacy and treachery, themes central to John’s theology of light and darkness. Judas departs into the night (13:30), contrasting Jesus as the true light. By invoking Psalm 41, John reshapes the betrayal into a cosmic drama of friendship turned to enmity, light opposed by darkness. The prophetic motif here is not about money, fields, or replacement, but about relational betrayal at the most intimate level of fellowship.
Why do Mark and Matthew (but not Luke or John) invoke Zechariah 13:7 at the arrest?
Mark’s gospel emphasizes suffering and abandonment, and Matthew follows. Quoting Zechariah 13:7 (“Strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered”) explains why all the disciples flee: it is not random cowardice but fulfillment of prophecy. This allows Jesus’s isolation to be theologically meaningful. Luke and John, however, reject this framework: Luke recasts the arrest as “your hour, and the power of darkness” (22:53), highlighting a cosmic struggle, while John reframes the event so that none of the disciples are lost (18:9), inverting Zechariah’s scattering image. Mark and Matthew need Zechariah 13:7 to explain the disciples’ flight; Luke and John have different theological emphases, so they bypass it.
Why is Matthew the only evangelist to introduce the Exodus 21:32 allusion (thirty shekels = price of a slave)?
Only Matthew gives the precise amount Judas received. This fits Matthew’s theological program: Jesus is presented as both Israel’s Messiah and its suffering servant, and here he is appraised at the price of a slave. The allusion humiliates the betrayers: they place the Lord of glory at the lowest legal valuation of human life in Torah. It strengthens Matthew’s prophetic tapestry (tying Zechariah’s thirty silver to Exodus’s slave-price) and reinforces his theme of Jesus as the one who fulfills Israel’s scriptures, even in degradation. Mark, Luke, and John avoid the detail, likely because their theologies do not hinge on the irony of Jesus-as-slave-price.

The evangelists’ divergent uses of the Tanakh are not random but reflect their distinct theological priorities:

Matthew wants prophetic fulfillment and chooses Jeremiah/Zechariah/Exodus to tie Judas’s betrayal into Israel’s prophetic and legal traditions.
Luke-Acts wants communal pattern-matching and reuses the Psalms to explain Judas’s end as the fate of an enemy and to justify his replacement in the apostolic circle.
John wants cosmic symbolism and uses Psalm 41 to present Judas’s betrayal as intimate treachery at the table, dramatized as light versus darkness.
Mark/Matthew at Gethsemane want foreordained abandonment and invoke Zechariah 13:7 to frame the disciples’ flight.

The contradictions are thus not accidents of memory but deliberate choices of scripture. Each author constructed Judas’s story differently because each wanted to show different dimensions of Jesus’s passion as “fulfilling” Israel’s scriptures.

The appeal to the Tanakh in the Judas narratives creates not coherence but divergence. Matthew constructs a story around Zechariah and Jeremiah: thirty silver coins, the temple, the potter’s field, and the theme of innocent blood. Luke and Acts builds an entirely different story around the Psalms: Judas himself acquires a field, dies violently there, and is replaced in fulfillment of lament-imprecations originally directed at David’s enemies. John turns instead to Psalm 41:9, dramatizing betrayal by a table companion through the morsel of bread, while Mark and Matthew frame the disciples’ flight in Gethsemane with Zechariah 13:7.

The contradictions arise not from faulty memory but from deliberate exegetical choices. Each author sought a prophetic anchor in the scriptures of Israel and then shaped Judas’s role accordingly. The result is not a single narrative thread but multiple, irreconcilable constructions: one where priests buy a potter’s field, one where Judas himself dies in his own field, one where betrayal fulfills a psalm about a false friend, and one where the shepherd’s scattering fulfills Zechariah.

Judas thus emerges less as a remembered historical figure and more as a pliable vehicle for scriptural interpretation: a betrayer of Jesus who is, in turn, betrayed by the gospels themselves, each reshaping him to fit its chosen prophetic script.

10. Other early Christian accounts

Papias of Hierapolis in the early 2nd century had an account of Judas’s death (reported secondhand in later sources) that differs starkly: Judas swells monstrously, his body rots and bursts, and he dies crushed in a field. Although grotesque, this version was known to later Fathers and influenced medieval portrayals of Judas as both physically corrupt and spiritually monstrous. It shows that the contradictions in Matthew and Acts generated yet another, third explanation.

The Gospel of Judas, also in the mid-2nd century, but Gnostic in tone, radically reinterprets Judas, portraying him as the one disciple who truly understood Jesus’s divine mission. Here, Judas does not betray out of greed or Satanic influence but acts at Jesus’s request, enabling the crucifixion as part of the cosmic plan. Though rejected by the orthodoxy and denounced by Irenaeus, its very existence shows how contested Judas’s role was. The Gospel of Judas became important polemically: orthodox writers attacked it precisely because it inverted the standard portrayal of Judas as wicked.

11. A final glance at the contradictions

To step back before concluding, it is helpful to see at a glance the stark differences in how the gospels (and Acts) portray Judas.

When and where was the anointing of Jesus?
- Mark and Matthew: Bethany, two days before Passover, but possibly a flashback to an event paralleling John's account.
- John: Bethany, six days before Passover, in the home of Lazarus’s family.
- Luke: Much earlier, in Galilee, in Simon the Pharisee’s house.
Which scriptures in the Tanakh are claimed to prophesy the actions of Judas?
- Matthew: He cites Jeremiah, but includes Zechariah 11:12-13 and Jeremiah 19 and 32
- Luke and Acts: Psalms 69 and 109.
- John: Psalm 41:9.
- Mark: Cites Zechariah 13:7, but this only relates to the disciples fleeing.
Who protested the anointing?
- Mark: “Some” of those present.
- Matthew: All of the disciples.
- John: Judas alone, and because of greed.
- Luke: None; instead Simon the Pharisee questions Jesus.
When and why did Judas decide to betray Jesus?
- Mark and Matthew: Immediately after the anointing on his own accord.
- Luke: When Satan entered him, as Passover drew near.
- John: At the supper, after Jesus gives him bread (coinciding with Satan entering him) and commands him to go.
What was the financial incentive for Judas to betray Jesus?
- Mark and Luke: Judas is promised money, but no amount is named, but in both cases, Judas identifies Jesus. In Luke, he appears to have been paid after the betrayal, as he did purchase a field.
- Matthew: Judas is immediately given thirty pieces of silver; however, he identify Jesus, and returns the silver after the betrayal of Jesus.
- John: No payment is ever mentioned, and Judas does not identify Jesus.
What is the role of Satan or the devil?
- Mark and Matthew: Satan never explicitly appears.
- Luke: Satan enters Judas before he meets the priests.
- John: Judas is first called “a devil,” then Satan enters him only after the morsel of bread.
Who accompanied Judas?
- Mark and Matthew: Judas arrived with a crowd with swords and clubs, from the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders.
- Luke: A crowd lead by Judas.
- John: A detachment of soldiers together with police from the chief priests and the Pharisees...with lanterns and torches and weapons.
How was Jesus betrayed?
- Mark, Matthew, and Luke: Jesus identified by a kiss.
- John: No kiss; Jesus steps forward and identifies himself.
How did Judas die?
- Matthew: He hangs himself; priests buy a potter’s field with the silver, and because the silver was judged to be blood money (money paid for the blood of Jesus), the field became known as the “Field of Blood.”.
- Acts: He falls headlong in a field he bought, bursts open, and the land becomes “Field of Blood” because of the gore left by his death.
- Mark and John: Silent on his death.

As can be seen, each of the author after Mark sought to identify verses in the Tanakh that could be read as prophecies of Judas’s actions, thereby providing an explanation for how one of Jesus’s closest followers could betray him. Their narratives are therefore shaped not by historical memory but by the need to parallel these chosen texts. Because each author selected different passages, the resulting accounts diverge sharply and in ways that cannot be reconciled. The only recurring themes across the gospels are broad ones: that Judas was one of the twelve, that he handed Jesus over, that the arrest occurred at the Mount of Olives, and that someone’s sword cut off the ear of a servant. Beyond these generalities, the details do not overlap except when Matthew or Luke copy directly from Mark. John stands apart still further: none of its Judas-specific details (the devil, no financial incentive, the morsel of bread, the departure into the night) find parallels in the synoptics. Thus, every distinctive element in these stories ultimately arises from the author’s chosen prophetic framework, not from any honest attempt to retell the events that actually occurred.

To emphasize: When we step back, a clear pattern emerges: every additional detail beyond the barest outline (Judas was one of the twelve, he betrayed Jesus, he was present at the arrest) is introduced only where it serves the evangelist’s chosen scriptural framework. In Matthew, Judas’s remorse, the return of the thirty silver pieces, the priests’ refusal of “blood money,” and the purchase of the potter’s field are all shaped around Zechariah 11 and Jeremiah 19/32. In Acts, the violent death, the purchase of a field by Judas himself, and the replacement of his office exist only because the author is working with Psalms 69 and 109. In John, Judas’s identification as “a devil,” his objection to the anointing, the morsel of bread, and his departure into the night are all there to realize Psalm 41:9’s motif of betrayal by a close companion. Crucially, these distinctive details never overlap: Matthew never mentions Acts’ field of gore or replacement of Judas; Acts never mentions Matthew’s thirty silver coins or potter’s field; John never mentions Matthew or Acts’ elements at all. Each author adds what their scripture requires and fails to include details not directly related to their chosen prophetic anchor.

Summary

The gospel accounts converge on only a minimal core about Judas Iscariot: he was one of the twelve, he betrayed Jesus to the authorities, the arrest took place on the Mount of Olives, and in the course of the arrest a disciple cut off the ear of the high priest’s slave. Beyond these basic facts, the stories diverge so dramatically that they cannot be harmonized without erasing the individuality of each gospel’s witness.

In Mark, Judas emerges suddenly as one of the twelve, protests the anointing indirectly, arranges the betrayal with the priests, and identifies Jesus with a kiss. Jesus prays three times in anguish in Gethsemane, the disciples scatter, and a mysterious young man flees naked. Matthew, using Mark but amplifying him, inserts prophetic fulfillment at every turn: Judas is paid thirty silver pieces (a sum resonant with both Zechariah and Exodus), returns the money in remorse, and hangs himself. The priests, refusing “blood money,” buy a potter’s field, fulfilling Jeremiah as Matthew reads him. Luke, though using Mark, recasts Judas in cosmic terms: Satan enters him, Jesus prays only once, and an angel strengthens him. At the arrest, Jesus heals the wounded slave’s ear. John, by contrast, stands apart from the synoptics: Judas is described early as a devil, objects to Mary’s anointing of Jesus, receives the bread at supper as a sign, and departs into the night. The betrayal involves no kiss but Jesus’s self-identification (“I am he”), which causes the soldiers to fall backward. John never mentions Judas’s death at all.

Acts, continuing Luke’s project, presents Judas’s grisly end in an entirely different way: he acquires a field with his reward and dies violently in it, his bowels spilling out. This, Peter explains, fulfills not Jeremiah or Zechariah but the Psalms. Here, Judas is not a tragic figure who repents, as in Matthew, but the archetypal enemy of the righteous, whose desolation and replacement were already written in Israel’s liturgy.

The result is a Judas who is fractured into several incompatible portraits:

A calculating betrayer disillusioned after the anointing (Mark, Matthew),
A vessel of Satan (Luke),
A devil from the beginning (John),
A tragic sinner who repents and hangs himself (Matthew),
A grotesque warning figure who bursts open in a cursed field (Acts).

The theological motives behind these divergences are clear. Matthew insists on prophetic fulfillment, reaching for Jeremiah and Zechariah. Luke–Acts emphasizes the community and its continuity, framing Judas through the Psalms as a desolate traitor who must be replaced. John elevates the betrayal into a cosmic drama of light and darkness, intimacy and treachery, citing Psalm 41. Mark, the earliest, is stark and restrained, anchoring the scattering of the disciples in Zechariah 13.

What unites them is not a common memory of Judas but a common need to interpret Judas. Each author anchors his story in different scriptures, reshaping Judas to fit theological needs. Matthew creates a Jeremiah-Zechariah tapestry; Luke and Acts builds on pattern matching in the Psalms; John dramatizes table fellowship as betrayal; Mark keeps to a terse prophetic frame. In this sense, Judas himself is betrayed by the tradition: each gospel takes the outline of his act but fills it with divergent, irreconcilable details.

The contradictions are not accidental. They show us that Judas, more than any other disciple, is a cipher: a figure molded to serve the evangelist’s theological narrative. What he did, why he did it, how he died, even what prophecy he “fulfilled” are told in mutually exclusive ways. The only firm consensus is that he betrayed Jesus. Everything else depends on which gospel one reads.

Every apologetic treatment of Judas that I have encountered suffers from the same defect: it narrows in on one difference at a time, as though harmonizing a single loose thread could somehow repair the gaping seams in the fabric. A clever author supplies a plausible explanation (something that might allow one to reconcile one contradiction in one passage) and then promptly stops there. For the fundamentalist reader, that is enough. The explanation does not have to address the dozens of other irreconcilable differences; it does not even have to be convincing when weighed against the wider evidence. It only has to placate: to soothe the believer’s anxiety about inerrancy with the assurance that “there is an answer.” But this is not harmonization. It is damage control. It is less about finding truth than about calming the fears of those for whom belief takes priority over fact.

As for others:

For those who are not invested in biblical inerrancy, the differences are far more illuminating. They open a window into the historical and theological settings in which the gospels were composed. They reveal how each community remembered, or reimagined, the story of Judas, and how their portrayals diverged according to their own priorities and scriptural anchors. The contradictions, rather than being liabilities to conceal, become evidence of the diverse and sometimes competing interpretations of Jesus in the earliest churches.
For Jews, this divergence exposes the fragility of the Christian claim that Jesus fulfilled the messianic promises of the Tanakh. The figure of Judas (tailored differently in Matthew, Luke–Acts, John, and Mark) illustrates how freely the evangelists reshaped prophecy to make it appear “fulfilled.” It must also be galling that such transparent fabrications became the basis for centuries of denigration and persecution of the Jewish people. At root, Jesus was a charismatic apocalyptic preacher who courted danger, provoked the authorities, and in the end developed messianic pretensions that brought him into conflict with the Romans. The leaders of his own people did what was politically and religiously necessary: they handed him over.
For Muslims, the elaborate contradictions about Judas only confirm the simplicity of the Qur’anic perspective. If Jesus (ʿĪsā) was never crucified, then Judas’s role as betrayer becomes irrelevant, and the tortured attempts of Christians to reconcile the irreconcilable vanish as unnecessary. The Qur’an does not need Judas; the Christian scriptures, by contrast, cannot seem to agree on what he did, why he did it, or even how he died.
For atheists, especially those recovering from fundamentalist Christianity, the contradictions can be liberating. The Judas narratives strip away any lingering illusion that the gospels tell a single, seamless story. They show in the clearest possible way that the texts are not only different but, at crucial points, mutually exclusive. This is not a matter of minor discrepancies. As the analysis above has shown, nearly every passage that deals with Judas’s actions, motives, or death differs sharply from gospel to gospel. No amount of selective apologetics can erase that fact.

In the end, the contrast is stark: the apologist seeks to reassure the believer that nothing is broken, while the historian recognizes that the cracks are the very evidence of how the stories were constructed. Belief requires placation; understanding requires honesty.

tanakh

others

at-a-glance

summary