Jeremy L. Berg

Lent is a great time to check out my Untold Tales short stories! These imaginative and moving portraits of the passion present beloved stories and characters in new and creative ways.

Hear the story of Palm Sunday told by the Fig Tree Jesus cursed on his way into Jerusalem.

Discover the backstory and identity of the mysterious Naked Guy in Mark’s story of Jesus’ arrest.

Ponder the fate of Judas Iscariot and what might have led to his betrayal? Is there hope for Judas?

These stories are infused with Scriptural truth and pastoral insights reminding us of the hope Jesus brings to our lives and our world. Collect all of these beautifully illustrated books, and give a copy to a friend this Easter. Your purchase helps support the ongoing ministry of Kingdom Harbor and MainStreet Covenant Church.

Available now:

Love Cut the Rope: The Tragic Tale of Judas

The Knotty Tale of the Cursed Fig Tree

The Naked Truth About Good Friday

Purchase them in the online bookstore here.

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EXCERPT Love Cut the Rope:

I was born on the Feast of the Passover, umbilical cord wrapped around my neck. My eyes wide open and my blue face gasping for breath, I tried to cry out but couldn’t. My Abba pulled out his favorite knife, cut the cord and gave me life. 

Eight days later Abba would pull out that knife again, presenting me to the God of our fathers in circumcision. The first cut of that knife gave me life, and the second cut gave me a people and a story and a God.

Where I come from, there’s a lot in a name. I am the son of Simon, who gave me the honorable Hebrew name Judah after our national hero Judah Maccabee—Judas in Greek. This famous Judas—whose nickname Maccabee means “The Hammer”—led the Jewish war for independence against the oppressive Seleucid Empire a century and a half ago. In honor of his achievement, there’s now a boy named Judas living under nearly every roof in Israel. 

As for my other name, that’s a bit more complicated. Originally, it just meant that our family hailed from the small town south of Judea called Kerioth. The Greek rendering of the Hebrew phrase Κ-Qrîyôt means “the man from Kerioth.” This was attached to my name to distinguish me from the other Judases in the Gospels. 

A second meaning of Iscariot involves my Abba’s knife already mentioned twice in the story. You can’t understand me without understanding Abba’s knife. Abba was a true patriot and  he did more than just name me after the freedom-fighting Judas Maccabee. Abba longed to be part of the next uprising, and kept company with a secret society called the Sicarii.

Sicarii means “dagger men” after the curved knives they concealed under their cloaks called a sicarius. These Jewish rebels would become more active after my time, committing notable acts of terrorism by mixing into the crowds and using their infamous knives to assassinate Romans and their sympathizers. 

When I was a boy the movement was still in its infancy. The Dagger Men my Abba associated with were all bark and no bite; all talk and little action. Still they gathered regularly to drink and dream together of the day they would drop the hammer on Rome just as Judas had dropped it on the Greeks. But even back then, those men always had their knives ready at their side. 

In fact, my Abba was so fond of his knife and talked about it so often, that folks in our village gave him the Aramaic nickname ‘Skaryota’, which in Greek sounds just like, you guessed it, Iscariot. So, I’m the son of Simon the Dagger Man, and while Abba had yet to pull his knife on a Roman, he had pulled it out at my birth to give me life and pulled it out at my circumcision to give me an identity.  

I hesitate to mention one more possible meaning of my name Iscariot. This meaning recalls my birth and foreshadows my death. Keen observers have pointed out that Iscariot can very easily be derived from a Greek-Aramaic hybrid word—Iskarioutha—which has the ominous meaning of “chokiness” or “constriction.”  

My Abba fell sick in my 12th year. Knowing his time was short, he called me to his bedside one night and placed into my hands his most cherished possession: that razor sharp knife. His last words  to me would linger in my heart the rest of my days, sometimes inspiring, other times accusing. He grasped my cheeks, pulled our foreheads together and said with fire in his eyes: 

“Beware, son, the fetters that bind and threaten to choke out life. You were made to be free.” 

I carried Abba’s knife at my side and his words in my heart from that day forward—a constant reminder to be on the lookout for those who would constrict my freedom or choke out my life. Unfortunately, I was unaware that the most dangerous fetters of all are not external to a man; they are slowly forged within. As one of your philosophers would later say: “Men of intemperate minds cannot be free. Their passions forge their fetters” (Edmund Burke).

I grew up to be an ambitious and enterprising man. I appeared free and happy on the outside, enjoying success in business and a carefully manicured social life. But I was tormented within. Inner compulsions drove me. Uncontrollable thoughts menaced me. I showed a calm and professional face to the world, and kept my tortured soul shuttered in the dark. 

That darkness kept growing until it took on a life of its own. And then one day the darkness took on a Voice—a mean and accusing voice. A relentless and dispiriting voice. A voice that would stalk me the rest of my days, slowly wrapping me up and binding me tight with lies and temptations and thickening cords of shame and self-loathing. Beware, the fetters that bind.