The Call to Reconcile
John 13:1-17, 31-35
A meditation for Maundy Thursday
Thomas J. Boone, PhD
Thursday, April 5, 2007

I wonder how many of you have considered the astonishing truth that Jesus washed Judas’ feet on the night of his betrayal. We can fathom Jesus taking a towel from around his waist, kneeling down in front of each disciple, pouring water from a basin over each one’s feet and then wiping them with the towel. We can imagine Peter objecting, for from what we know about Peter he was a fiery sort. We can even visualize the disciples looking at Jesus, then to each other, and then back to Jesus as he worked his way around the room. “What is he doing?” we imagine them asking themselves in hushed tones.

We visualize them startled at his words that pierce their bewildered and mute state. “Do you know what I’ve done for you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you’re right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.”

But, have you stopped to consider that Jesus didn’t exclude the one who we may think deserved omission. He didn’t stop to think about what was in Judas’ heart for a moment. Jesus just did it. Just as he did with each of the others, Jesus washed the feet of the man who had already determined to betray Him. Then without so much as a gesture or pause to indicate a second thought, Jesus moved simply on to the next disciple’s dirty feet.

Meditating on this event Sister Anne Catherine Emmerich wrote, “Nothing in the whole course of the Passion grieved Jesus so deeply as the treason of Judas” (The Dolorous Passion, 30-31). Still, we read, Jesus washed Judas’ feet. Let’s freeze that moment in the Passion story for a bit. Ponder the emotions.

Wouldn’t it have been easy for Jesus to be angry, or at the very least indignant? Jesus had been angry in the Temple, but he chose not to be angry at Judas. Wouldn’t betrayal on the level Judas manifested been cause enough for a holy reprimand and warning by Jesus, or at the very least a striking glare from the Lord? Maybe a booming “How DARE you?” bellowing from Jesus’ strong abdomen would have startled Judas into submission? Instead, Jesus chose to humble himself before the man whose treachery would bring him the greatest misery in killing-science that history had yet invented.

Judas wasn’t alone, of course. Peter would later that night deny Jesus three times. Each of the other disciples would run away in fear and hide, not to be heard from again until after Jesus’ resurrection. The beloved disciple would come to the cross, but not until he was safe from the possibility of being included in the false indictments. They had no idea what was going to happen, or that they were going to fail Jesus in the ultimate test. Jesus washed their feet, each and every one of them. Humble compassion amidst pitiful ignorance, that’s how we think of Jesus washing their feet.

Yet, Judas was a bit different than the rest. Here was the man who knew ahead of time what he was going to do against Jesus. He had already been paid blood money to sell Jesus’ life, barely enough money to purchase a worthless, lifeless small piece of land. He had hatched a plan to trade in the life of God incarnate for a place in history that would ensure no one’s child would receive his name. Yet, there Jesus was kneeling before him in the same way as he did the others, modeling the selfless love that only God could show.

Or is it really a love that only God can show? “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another,” is what Jesus commanded on Maundy Thursday. Might it be that Jesus means for us to love our own Judases in the same way as he loved his? Jesus’ great act of humble service to the man who would betray him as far as anyone could possibly betray another person did nothing to change Judas’ mind or heart. That’s a poignant consideration if we think we need to love our Judases only if they have a change of heart.

Paul wrote, “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” (1 Cor. 13:4-7). There may be no harder thing to do than to fight our inner nature and yield our spirit to Jesus’ command. So here are two points to take to heart. First, such love is a blessed and wonderful gift from God and it happens only in God’s perfect timing. If it’s not time, it’s not time, but be open for that time to come. Second, reconciliation does not mean that we get along with our Judases in perfect harmony on this side of heaven. Jesus gave me this command not for the sake of our Judases, but for the sake of our own lives. Fear locks us in our prisons with bars forged by past pain and chains welded by rage, but God wants us to live and be free, unshackled from these chains. When we take steps to let go of our own anger and hurt, and oh there can be so many small steps in the process, we free ourselves step by slow step to live as a community of God in a world that needs to see more grace among us than it has in the past.

This type of love isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. How long must we do it? Jesus’ answer is worth pondering. He did it long enough to be called crazy by his brothers and a liar by his neighbors. Long enough to be run out of his hometown and Temple. Long enough to be laughed at, cursed, slapped, hit, blindfolded, and mocked. Long enough to feel the inner pain of betrayal. Long enough to feel warm spit and sharp whips and see his own blood puddle at his feet. Long enough for it to have killed him (Max Lucado, A Love Worth Giving, 173).

How much, how long, and how far will you take your call to reconciliation this year? Amen.