Gospel: John 13:1-17, 31b-35
The hour was almost upon him. The moment he’d tried time and again to tell the disciples would arrive was now imminent. The betrayal was almost at hand. “It is for this reason that I have come to this hour,” he said.[1] “Now is the judgment of this world … The light is with you for a little longer.”[2]
At this point fear hadn’t yet overtaken their hearts; they weren’t yet overwhelmed by loss and grief. On this night, in this place, in this moment, there is only love. A greater love these disciples had never known, and it would only be after the events of the coming days that they would know the true greatness – the true power – of this love.
It’s a love revealed through an action by the one who was the greatest among them kneeling before them to become their servant, performing in the words of one scholar “one of those small, everyday acts of humble service.”[3] He knew they wouldn’t understand why he was on his knees, his hands wet with the water from the basin, washing their feet. Peter tried to insist he not do it, insisting he not do something so lowly – and then when he thought he might miss something he reversed course and was all in. Peter, the loving, faithful, flawed disciple, once again got it wrong, carried away by his enthusiasm and blinded to the truth of what was happening.
One day, he’ll understand. It won’t be in his time; the understanding will come to Peter – to all of them – in God’s time.
When he’d finished, when the washing was done and he’d again taken a seat, he gave them a commandment. It was a commandment given in such a way that there’d be no misunderstanding, no confusion, no ambiguity.
Love.
He’d loved them, and he loved them still. Surely the certainty of that knowledge lingered somewhere in their hearts. Even the one who would betray him – the one whose heart had been influenced by darkness to perform the act to set off the tragic chain of events – was loved. It was a love that believed all things, that hoped all things, that endured all things. It was a love that believed in them, hoped for them, and yes, even endured them.
It was a love that couldn’t be contained and couldn’t ever be fully, completely described. It was the love of God, a love made incarnate and given to all who came near. No matter how many times these friends tried to get it right and missed the mark, no matter how little they may have truly understood it, they were loved.
They’d need the knowledge of that love – the certainty of it – in the coming days. But before then, Jesus needed to prompt them, to give them a little nudge, and so in this dimly lit room, seated with those with whom he was closest and had experienced so much, he spoke: “Love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.”[4] The world is here because of God’s love; I am here as a sign of God’s love; you have received the gift of God’s love. Now go – and love.
Do this, and everyone will know who you are and whose you are.
The rest of this night would be difficult in ways the disciples couldn’t yet imagine – and in the darkest corners of their minds wouldn’t want to imagine. Tomorrow would be far worse, the worst day of their lives. The literal darkness of this night would become the figurative darkness overshadowing them and their world.
But on this night, in this place, in this man, there is love.
[1] John 12:27 (NRSV).
[2] John 12:31, 35 (NRSV).
[3] Jim Green Somerville, “John 13:107, 31b-35 – Pastoral Perspective.” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 2, p. 278.
[4] John 13:34 (NRSV).