By Lara Butler-Ford

Not much is known about the thirteenth disciple. Few even know his name. All we know is he replaced Judas, was chosen by God to become a new member of the twelve. That vital number; each apostle representing one of the twelve tribes. Twelve faces, twelve stories, twelve endings. 

And then there was the thirteenth; Matthias. Not a gospel to his name, nor a family, nor description. I wonder how he reacted when he was told that he was chosen. The thirteenth. Did he jump for joy, singing God’s praises? Did he accept the role with a quiet humility? Did he resent that he, unlike the other apostles, was not chosen by Jesus himself?

Did Matthias resent that he had been with Jesus since his baptism? That he had lived with him through his persecution, watched his arrest and his death in horror, seen with awe his ascension up into heaven, and yet, not named by him an apostle? 

Did he have a wife, a family, friends outside the other disciples? Was he lonely? Did the others treat him well? Was he persecuted? Did he struggle? Did he fight with the fact that none but Luke bothered to mention his existence? Did he mind?

Did he mind the lack of credit? He preached the gospel to cannibals and flesh-eaters in Aethiopia, risked his life for a cause that failed to credit him. But he did it anyway, for Matthias means ‘Gift of God’, a name to which remained faithful to.

Matthias was chosen by casting lots, throwing stones. Did he internally, somewhere deep down, worry that his joining of the twelve was merely chance, that he was not worthy and was not intended to join them. Did he fear falsehood in his divine selection? Did he ever have doubts? Did he ever question his faith or feel abandoned? Did he ever wonder how Judas, the backstabber, the one who betrayed the Messiah with a kiss, could have possibly been chosen over him? 

Or perhaps Matthias was grateful. Maybe his hope was lost, and so when Peter announced when Judas had died, ‘May another take his place of leadership’, Matthias smiled. Maybe he went home after his selection with a sense of fulfilment and satisfaction. Perhaps for the first time in a long time, Matthias felt whole, complete. Maybe the air he felt being inhaled into his lungs was one with that which he exhaled. Perhaps he was at peace with it all.

Matthias was Judas’ replacement, the replacement of a man so dripping with infamy that we use his name as an insult. How did Matthias cope with the pressure? The concern from the other disciples that something like this would happen again? Did Matthias pity Judas or understand him and the tragedy of his suicide? Did he ever revisit the field of blood, the place of Judas’ death? Did he ever wonder, ‘how did it get to this?’ Did he ever wonder whether Judas’ remorse mattered in the end? Or did he wonder if his being chosen was some attempt of divine erasure, rewriting the story? Can destiny be changed through the mere casting of lots?

I wonder if Matthias remembered where he first met Jesus at his baptism in the River Jordan. Looking out into the water, seeing his long waves submerged and swimming like jellyfish on some fiery Summer day and thinking, ‘Could this be it?’ ‘Is this the beginning?’ ‘Am I saved?’ ‘Will I be saved?’ ‘Could I be saved?’ Perhaps he pondered if the lul of the gentle river held the answers. Maybe that’s why Jesus was baptised in them. ‘Or maybe’, he thought, ‘it was less so the contents of the ripples but instead who blessed and bathed within them.’

I wonder if Matthias watched the weeping of the women by the crucifix holding his messiah’s frail corpse and considered why he was there in the first place? Was this worth believing in? Fighting for? How was such a snake let so deep into the midst of the group for this to happen? Who of the twelve would remain after this?

I then wonder if seeing this man who had gone from deceased to resurrected being raised up into the clouds allowed Matthias a sense of envy, of hope, or of uncertainty? Envy of the freedom from the material world which so often hurt the meek. Hope for his future as a disciple, the newest member of the twelve. Or was it uncertainty that crept into Matthias’ subconscious? Did he wonder what the lack of a leader meant for his faith and its continuing progression.

Now, how can we look at Matthias? The forgotten disciple, left behind to rot in those forgotten, missing corridors of history that we so often find. I think of him frequently, left in the shadows of obscurity and yet, somehow, so full of faith. 

I don’t believe in heaven, and I hope Matthias is there. I hope he receives the attention and care he deserves from the other disciples. I hope he converses with Jesus. I hope he gets an apology. I hope he had a family to meet up there. I hope he is remembered as more than just the passed-over disciple.

I believe that there is divinity in the act of remembrance. I have no faith, and yet, I find myself praying that when I and those I love are discarded to the empty wooden pews of the universe, we are not forgotten too quickly. 

I hope Matthias knew he was loved. To be loved is to be immortal.

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Lara is a 17 year old student from Northern Ireland studying english, politics, religion and moving image arts. Her passions include film, comedy and philosophy. She aspires to find a career in film and television.