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By William Van Zyl
Published July 19, 2026
The silhouette of a large money bag is etched against the dark stone wall.
The frail hands of an elderly woman clench tightly around the neck of $150,000.
The heavy wooden door of the small Albanian chapel creaked and squeaked as it opened.
Helga, driven by guilt, moves under the cover of night. The moonlight struggles to reflect on her rippled face.
Pastor Helmund Wasser looked up from his desk. The strong moonlight poured through the stained-glass windows, casting coloured shadows across the worn stone floor of his office adjacent to the chapel.
Standing in the doorway was a woman he had never met.
Her last name was Klimt.
She looked nervous. Her hands trembled as she held a large money bag close to her chest.
“Pastor Wasser,” Helga whispered, “I need to speak with you about something that has troubled my soul for many years.”
The pastor invited her inside.
“What is your name?”
“Helga, Helga Klimt.”
Helga placed the stained brown bag on the desk.
Inside was a large sum of money.
The pastor looked at her with concern.
“Where did this money bag come from?”
The woman lowered her eyes.
“The money was paid to my husband.”
“Paid for what?”
A long silence filled the room.
“My husband, Hendricus Klimt, was a hitman.”
“Many years ago, he got paid for doing the unthinkable.”
The pastor remained silent.
“I can’t hold it back any more. He was paid this money to silence a man named Joseph Ferror.”
The pastor slowly closed his notebook. A large Bible lies on his table. A kaleidoscope of coloured light surrounds the black Bible. The stained glass refracts the strong moonlight onto the desk, and the shape of the three apostles surrounds the Bible.
“Does your husband know you have brought this money here?”
“No,” she replied. “He does not. But I cannot live with this money in my house anymore. I kept it in a secret pocket inside the roof of my house for over 20 years. Every time I think of it, I remember that someone’s life was taken because of it.”
Tears filled her eyes. She sobs, her eyes begging for forgiveness.
“I want to give it to the church. Maybe God can use it for something good. Maybe it can help the poor. Maybe it can build something that honours God instead of reminding us of death.”
Pastor Wasser looked at the money bag sitting on the desk.
“How much is it you say?”
“It is a $ 150, 000 dollars.”
It was only paper.
But it carried a story.
A terrible story.
A story written in suffering.
“Helga,” the pastor said quietly, “this is not simply money. This is blood money.”
The Nervous Conversation
Several days later, Hendricus Klimt, who was eventually released, sat across from Pastor Wasser.
The pastor had invited him to the church.
Hendricus was a hardened man. Years of violence had changed his face. His eyes carried the weight of things he wished he could forget.
“I know why I am here,” Hendricus said.
The pastor looked at him.
“Your wife came to see me.”
Hendricus looked away.
“She should not have done that.”
“Why?”
“Because that money belongs to the past.”
Pastor Wasser shook his head.
“No, Hendricus. That money is connected to the past. But the question is whether the past can be redeemed.”
The former hitman stared at him.
“Redeemed? Pastor, a man is dead because of me. How can money connected to murder ever become good?”
The pastor opened his Bible.
“Judas Iscariot betrayed Jesus Christ for thirty pieces of silver.”
Hendricus listened.
“The Bible says:
‘Then Judas, which had betrayed him, when he saw that he was condemned, repented himself, and brought the thirty pieces of silver again to the chief priests and elders.’
— Matthew 27:3 (KJV)
Judas returned the money. He knew it was wrong. He knew it represented betrayal.”
Hendricus looked at the pastor.
“What happened to the silver?”
“The chief priests took the money and said:
‘It is not lawful for you to put them into the treasury, because it is the price of blood.’
— Matthew 27:6 (KJV)
They recognised it as blood money.”
“So they destroyed it?”
“No. They used it to purchase the potter’s field, a burial place for strangers.”
The pastor paused.
“Even money connected to the darkest moment in human history was transformed into something that provided a place for the forgotten and the dead.”
Is Money Evil?
So, the question is:
Is money itself evil?
The Bible does not say money is evil.
The Scripture says:
“For the love of money is the root of all evil.”
— 1 Timothy 6:10 (KJV)
Money is a tool.
A knife can prepare a meal or take a life.
A vehicle can transport someone to safety or be used to cause destruction.
Money can feed the hungry, build hospitals, support missions, and help those in need.
But money gained through injustice carries a moral burden.
The question is not only:
“Where did the money come from?”
The deeper question is:
“What will be done with it now?”
Could Judas’ Silver Have Been Redeemed?
Imagine for a moment that Judas had not only returned the thirty pieces of silver but also remained alive after Jesus’ resurrection.
What would Jesus have done with that money?
There are several possibilities.
Scenario One: Jesus Returns the Money to the Poor
Jesus repeatedly showed compassion towards the poor.
When the rich young ruler asked Jesus what he lacked, Christ said:
“Go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor.”
— Matthew 19:21 (KJV)
Perhaps Jesus would have used the silver to care for widows, orphans, and the suffering.
The money that once represented betrayal could become a symbol of mercy.
Scenario Two: Jesus Uses the Money to Restore Judas
The greatest miracle of Christianity is not simply that Jesus forgives ordinary mistakes.
It is that He forgives extraordinary sins.
Peter denied Jesus three times.
Yet after the resurrection, Jesus restored Peter.
Perhaps Jesus would have used the silver as an opportunity to teach Judas about repentance, forgiveness, and restoration.
The greatest redemption would not have been the money.
It would have been the person.
Scenario Three: Jesus Destroys the Money
Perhaps Jesus would have rejected the silver completely.
Some things are so connected to evil that keeping them becomes a temptation.
The money could have been melted down, removed from circulation, and never used again.
Sometimes redemption means transformation.
Sometimes redemption means separation.
Can Blood Money Become Holy?
This leads us back to Hendricus Klimt.
Could $150,000 paid to kill Joseph Ferror ever become something good?
Could it build a church?
Could it feed the poor?
Could it help the homeless?
Or would accepting it dishonour the memory of the man who died?
These are difficult questions.
The answer may not be found in the money itself.
The answer may be found in justice, repentance, and responsibility.
Blood money should never erase the blood that was shed.
The family of Joseph Ferror deserves justice.
The truth must be acknowledged.
The crime must not be hidden behind a charitable donation.
But if repentance is genuine, if accountability is accepted, and if those affected are considered, perhaps even something born from darkness can eventually serve the purposes of light.
The Potter’s Field
The Bible gives us a powerful picture.
The silver that purchased Jesus’ betrayal became the money used to purchase a burial field for strangers.
A field for people who had no place.
A field for those forgotten by society.
The very money that represented death became connected with dignity for the dead.
This does not mean evil becomes good.
It means God is able to bring redemption from broken things.
The cross itself proves this.
The greatest injustice in human history — the innocent Son of God being crucified — became the pathway through which salvation came to humanity.
The Final Question
If Jesus stood today holding the thirty pieces of silver, what would He do?
Would He throw it away?
Would He give it to the poor?
Would He use it to restore broken lives?
Would He transform it into something that brings hope?
Perhaps the answer is found in His character.
Jesus does not ignore evil.
He does not pretend suffering never happened.
But He specialises in redemption.
The question is not:
“Can dirty money become clean?”
The deeper question is:
“Can God take something marked by darkness and use it for His purposes?”
The answer of Scripture is yes.
Because the same hands that were pierced by betrayal are the hands that redeem.
The same Christ who was sold for thirty pieces of silver is the Christ who offers forgiveness, restoration, and new life.
Money may carry a history.
But God can write a new ending.
—–0—–
I include the cinematic background for the introduction:
A dark, atmospheric biblical drama scene blending ancient Jerusalem with a modern moral struggle. In the foreground, a small leather pouch lies open on an old wooden table, revealing thirty ancient silver coins glowing faintly in the candlelight — the symbolic “thirty pieces of silver” that betrayed Jesus. Beside the coins sits a modern envelope containing $150,000 US dollars, representing blood money paid for a life taken.
On one side of the scene stands Hendricus Klimt, a hardened Albanian hitman in his late 50s, wearing a dark coat, his face marked by regret and inner conflict. His hands tremble as he looks at the money, haunted by the memory of Joseph Ferror, the man whose life was taken. Behind him, a shadowy silhouette fades into the darkness, symbolising the victim and the weight of guilt.
Opposite him stands Pastor Helmund Wasser inside an old stone Albanian church. The pastor holds an open Bible, illuminated by warm golden light. His expression shows compassion, wisdom, and sorrow as he speaks about repentance, forgiveness, and redemption. A stained-glass window behind him depicts a subtle image of the cross.
In the background, merge two timelines: ancient Jerusalem and a modern Albanian village. Show the Potter’s Field — a barren piece of land outside the city — transformed with signs of hope: wildflowers growing among the stones, a humble burial place for forgotten strangers, symbolising how Judas’ blood money was used to provide dignity for the lost and homeless.
The atmosphere should be deeply emotional and cinematic: dramatic lighting, chiaroscuro shadows, realistic textures, shallow depth of field, 8K ultra-realistic detail, historical biblical realism mixed with modern crime drama, a powerful visual metaphor of guilt, justice, repentance, and redemption.
Style keywords:
cinematic biblical epic, emotional realism, Rembrandt lighting, dark-to-light symbolism, redemption theme, spiritual drama, film still, realistic characters, atmospheric storytelling.
Copyright © 2026 by William Van Zyl
The Hitman’s Wife.
All rights reserved. This eBook/article or any portion
thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner
without the publisher’s permission, except for using brief quotations in a book review.
Published by Five House Publishing (New Zealand)
First Publishing, July 2026
More eBooks and articles are available at https://fivehousepublishing.com/
More about the author at http://williamvanzyl.com/
