Judas Iscariot by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Longfellow isn't asking you to forgive Judas; instead, he wants you to understand him. The poem paints a complete portrait of Judas, revealing his childhood trauma, his struggle to love, and his sincere effort to improve by following Jesus. Whether this evokes sympathy is up to the reader. What the poem avoids is depicting Judas as merely evil, a more typical portrayal in literature prior to Longfellow.

This is based on Jesus's teachings in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark, where he mentions that all sins can be forgiven except for blasphemy against the Holy Spirit. For centuries, theologians have argued about what that sin really means. In the poem, Judas worries that betraying Jesus — the Son of God, who is full of the Holy Spirit — could be that unforgivable act. The poem leaves this question unanswered, and that uncertainty is the essence of the final stanza.

In Longfellow's original dramatic work Christus: A Mystery, the X serves as a scene break or division within the larger text. However, on the page, it feels more definitive — like a full stop, a crossing-out, or the end of a life. Whether this was intentional or not, it acts like a visual period following the stage direction that describes Judas's death.

Sure! Here's the humanized version:

Yes, directly. The question about God's foreknowledge — "if thou in thy foreknowledge didst perceive / All that I am, and all that I must be" — touches on the classic issue of predestination. If God knew before Judas was even born that he would betray Jesus, does that mean Judas truly had a choice? Longfellow leaves this question open. He simply allows Judas to voice it, which was quite a daring choice for a 19th-century poet dealing with a biblical character.

The line "How I loved, / Yet hated Him" expresses a deep psychological truth about relationships where one person feels constantly judged or vulnerable by another. Judas followed Jesus, hoping to be changed by him, but Jesus's goodness highlighted Judas's own shortcomings. The love is real; the hatred arises from the hurt of feeling inadequate.

Judas feels a deep envy towards them. They passed away as infants, before they had the chance to sin, leaving this world with toys in their hands — Longfellow's image is strikingly gentle. For Judas, who has endured a lifetime tormented by an "unclean spirit" and incapable of love, such an innocent death appears to be a form of mercy. This adds depth to the poem's main question: some individuals never have the opportunity to fail, while others seem fated to do so.

He desperately hopes so, but he's unsure. In the second stanza, he dreams up a wild plan: reaching the afterlife before Jesus, waiting for him, and pleading for forgiveness on his knees. This is the poem's most hopeful moment. However, the third stanza quickly undermines it with the haunting memory of the unforgivable sin. He dies without an answer, crying out for mercy.

Longfellow is primarily recognized today for narrative poems such as The Song of Hiawatha and Paul Revere's Ride, but he dedicated many years to Christus: A Mystery, the dramatic trilogy that includes this poem. He regarded it as his most significant work. "Judas Iscariot" reveals a lesser-known aspect of Longfellow — his readiness to explore moral ambiguity, confront challenging theological questions, and articulate the perspective of one of history's most vilified figures without hesitation.