Some of Nietzsche’s commentators were not deceived by the destructive force of evil he was proclaiming in his work. They saw only a mask – one of the most terrifying, it’s true – in the philosopher’s attempt to dethrone God and put Zarathustra in His place.
Nietzsche’s inclination towards the things and men holy to him too often had the value of a kiss from Judas. The best example is his contradictory attitude towards Wagner. He denied him after a long period of adoration, which otherwise characterised him his entire life. The same as Judas betrayed Jesus thus magnifying His tragic glory, Nietzsche’s sacrifice for his Gods (among whom Wagner is the first, but also God the Father, dethroned in favour of Zarathustra, and God the Son, to whom he dedicates a diatribe in the end of which he wants to replace Christ by Dionysos) does not involve a fundamental separation from them. The same as Judas, Nietzsche operates with the instruments of his specific destructive call in the name of his own religion: he worships a part of himself as a God, diabolising the less-known area of his destiny.
His dual personality was his secret weapon, and, as a matter of fact, the instrument of Nietzsche’s salvation. Although he won’t deceive himself even about his self-destruction, with the same determination he denies any possibility of being sanctified. Self-irony works in “Ecce homo,” when he prefers for himself the posture of a jester to that of a saint. Perhaps the traitor is closer to parody than tragedy, surrounded by the glory of his sacrifice. Nietzsche’s exclusiveness does not take sacrifices, although it is built on a series of reconciliations with the destiny of Dionysiac Gospel. The philosopher says there was only one Christian, who died on the cross. Before or after Him, Dionysian life goes on unhampered.
On one hand, Nietzsche tolerates devitalisation through the Christian stance he takes in front of death (the Christian refusal to live life to the fullest), and on the other hand he suggests a revitalisation, the natural outcome of a reassessment of all values, therefore by enforcing a new hierarchy. We shouldn’t be surprised by the nonchalance, probably painful, which helped Nietzsche to get over his terrible disease, evaluating his health so as, as Gillez Deleuze notices, “to turn illness into a point of view on health.”
Sacrificing himself, showing himself in all the unmasked nakedness of his anti-Christianity, Nietzsche frequently identifies himself with Judas, about whom Hebbel says he was “the greatest believer among believers.” By his betrayal, Judas launches the myth. But he is anti-Christian not just because he gives the impression of a perjurer. He is the first after Christ to understand how valuable the kiss of the deceitful inevitability may be. He does not lie to himself, the same as one cannot say that Christ was wrong about Judas’ intentions. Here the paradox rules. You only have to read the alchemy of this kiss, the way to accomplish what had been written in the book of fate. Each time, Nietzsche’s ties with the ones close to him bear the bitter essence of the one that, knowing that he was Judas, strongly believes however that his harshness stands for nothing else than the outmost gratitude. This gratitude did not find the proper expression, this is in fact the issue that gives birth to the psychologist’s structural paradox.