IT WAS JUST before the Passover Feast. Jesus knew that the time had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love.
2The evening meal was being served, and the devil had already prompted Judas Iscariot, son of Simon, to betray Jesus. 3Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; 4so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. 5After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.
6He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”
7Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”
8“No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.”
Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”
9“Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!”
10Jesus answered, “A person who has had a bath needs only to wash his feet; his whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you.” 11For he knew who was going to betray him, and that was why he said not every one was clean.
12When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. 13“You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. 14Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. 15I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. 16I tell you the truth, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. 17Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.
18“I am not referring to all of you; I know those I have chosen. But this is to fulfill the scripture: ‘He who shares my bread has lifted up his heel against me.’
19“I am telling you now before it happens, so that when it does happen you will believe that I am He. 20I tell you the truth, whoever accepts anyone I send accepts me; and whoever accepts me accepts the one who sent me.”
21After he had said this, Jesus was troubled in spirit and testified, “I tell you the truth, one of you is going to betray me.”
22His disciples stared at one another, at a loss to know which of them he meant. 23One of them, the disciple whom Jesus loved, was reclining next to him. 24Simon Peter motioned to this disciple and said, “Ask him which one he means.”
25Leaning back against Jesus, he asked him, “Lord, who is it?” 26Jesus answered, “It is the one to whom I will give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish.” Then, dipping the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas Iscariot, son of Simon. 27As soon as Judas took the bread, Satan entered into him.
“What you are about to do, do quickly,” Jesus told him, 28but no one at the meal understood why Jesus said this to him. 29Since Judas had charge of the money, some thought Jesus was telling him to buy what was needed for the Feast, or to give something to the poor. 30As soon as Judas had taken the bread, he went out. And it was night.
31When he was gone, Jesus said, “Now is the Son of Man glorified and God is glorified in him. 32If God is glorified in him, God will glorify the Son in himself, and will glorify him at once.
33“My children, I will be with you only a little longer. You will look for me, and just as I told the Jews, so I tell you now: Where I am going, you cannot come.
34“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. 35By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
36Simon Peter asked him, “Lord, where are you going?”
Jesus replied, “Where I am going, you cannot follow now, but you will follow later.”
37Peter asked, “Lord, why can’t I follow you now? I will lay down my life for you.”
38Then Jesus answered, “Will you really lay down your life for me? I tell you the truth, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times!”
Original Meaning
JOHN 13:1 OPENS the second half of this Gospel. For some scholars, it serves as an introductory heading to the entire Book of Glory.1 The “Book of Signs” (John 1–12) centers on Jesus’ public ministry within Judaism. Jesus provides a series of signs and discourses that rely heavily on the Jewish institutions and festivals of his day. His audience is wide-ranging as he seeks men and women who will believe. He provokes crises of faith, and in many of the chapters there is a division within his audience: Some choose to believe while others remain in unbelief.
The “Book of Glory” (John 13–21), however, shifts our attention to Jesus’ private ministry, to the hour of his glorification (the cross) that has been promised throughout chapters 1–12. His audience has narrowed to the circle of those who truly believe. From chapters 13–17 Jesus is alone with his disciples; chapters 18–21 record Jesus’ final glorification.
The focus of the first half of John is on the signs of Jesus, evidences of his identity borne by miraculous works. The focus of the second half of John is on the hour. Jesus now must say farewell to his followers and begin his return to the Father through his arrest, crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension. In 13:1 Jesus recognizes that “his hour” has come to depart out of the world, and he focuses his attention on “his own,” whom he has loved.
Throughout the Book of Signs we observe a link between sign and discourse. That is, when Jesus offers a sign (such as the feeding of the five thousand), he generally provides an explanation (a discourse) that unveils its deeper meaning. He explains that he is the light of the world and then heals the blind man (chs. 8–9). In the Book of Glory there is one sign, one event of momentous importance: Jesus’ death on the cross. In a similar fashion, the lengthy teaching of chapters 13–17 is Jesus’ “final discourse” that explains this “final sign.”
Raymond Brown likes to compare the literary form of the Gospel of John with the arc of a pendulum.2 Its swing begins up high, reaches a low point, and then returns to its original elevation. Even the prologue of John reflects this structure: In 1:1 the Word exists in the realm of God; in 1:10 there is the crisis of rejection; in 1:18 Jesus is once again identified with God. Likewise, John’s Gospel introduces Jesus as the Word that enters the world in his incarnation. He gloriously reveals his identity to Judaism through miraculous signs. But as the story unfolds, hostility increases. Although Jesus is divine light shining in the world, the darkness is coming, threatening to extinguish him. At its lowest ebb, Judas departs to betray him, at “night” (13:30). The Book of Glory is now the upswing of the pendulum as the Book of Signs is the downswing.
Why is this an important observation? I stress it because in the theology of John’s Gospel, the death of Jesus is not a tragedy. The cross is not a low point (as perhaps in Mark’s story). It is the highest moment of Jesus’ glory. John thus uses language that reinterprets Jesus’ crucifixion glory: The Son of Man will be “lifted up” (12:32), and when he does he will draw everyone to himself (cf. 3:13–14; 8:28). In 19:19–20, when Jesus is on the cross, he is proclaimed “king” in all the chief languages of the world. The cross is thus where Jesus is “elevated” above all, hailed as glorious ruler; through his resurrection, he is empowered to return to his place in heaven.3 As the prologue points to the gift of eternal life for those who believe and become children of God (1:12), so the Book of Glory ends with Jesus’ giving his Spirit to his disciples (20:22), truly making them his own.
The problem of the meal in John 13. John 13 tells us that Jesus is eating a supper with his disciples during his final discourse (13:2). Many readers readily assume that this is Jesus’ Passover meal described in the Synoptic Gospels (Matt. 26:17–19). However, there is a puzzle here that every interpreter must study. Many commentators believe that John is at odds with the Synoptic chronology. But as I hope to suggest, this is not an impossible problem.4
In first-century Jewish culture, days began following sunset.5 Therefore a day beginning after dusk on, say, Thursday, was the same “day” as the following Friday morning and afternoon. Such days had months and dates based on a lunar calendar (e.g., Nisan or Tishri, 5 or 6). Passover occurred in the springtime month of Nisan. Nisan 14 was the “day of Preparation,” when the Passover lambs were killed; the immediately following evening (a new day) began Nisan 15, when Jews ate their Passover meal. Thus a Jewish family might slaughter their lamb on one afternoon at 3:00 P.M. (Nisan 14) and be eating it four hours later on Nisan 15 (both events happening on different “days”).
According to the Synoptics, Nisan 14 began on Wednesday evening and continued through Thursday. On Thursday morning Jesus told Peter and John to go ahead of him and prepare his Passover (Luke 22:7–13). Thus Nisan 15 (Passover) began Thursday evening with its Passover meal (Mark 14:16) and continued through Friday. Jesus was arrested late Thursday night and crucified the next day (both events occurring on Nisan 15). However, this was an unusual Passover since it came close to Sabbath. Jesus was removed from the cross because Sabbath would begin Friday after sundown (Mark 15:42). Hence on this week, Thursday night/Friday was viewed as a “day of Sabbath Preparation” as well as the Passover. To sum up, the meal of Jesus on Thursday evening was indeed a Passover meal according to the Synoptics.
The main problem in John’s Gospel is that the author says Jesus was crucified on the “day of Preparation”—presumably when the Passover lambs were being killed (John 19:14, 31). Therefore if Friday was Nisan 14 (the day of Preparation), then the meal of Jesus Thursday evening was also Nisan 14 and could not have been his Passover meal. John (by this reading) holds that in this week, Passover came one day later than the Synoptics report.
Solutions to this problem have come in four forms. (1) Some have argued that the Synoptic Gospels have it right and that John has a theological motive for placing Jesus on the cross on Nisan 14 (thereby making him a Passover lamb).
(2) Others argue that John is correct. Jesus was hosting a formal guest meal that night, and the Synoptics have a theological motive for making Jesus’ final meal a Passover meal.6
(3) Still others argue that both accounts (though different) are correct. F. F. Bruce, for example, thought that Jesus was hosting an “irregular” Passover meal one day early.7 But in order to take this view, scholars have suggested that the Passover was eaten both on Nisan 14 and 15 for a variety of reasons—either because of the congestion in the temple and the number of lambs slain, the proximity of Passover to Sabbath, rival calendars (one lunar, one solar), regional differences (Galilee, Judea), or rival ways to mark days (sunset/sunset or sunrise/sunrise). I. H. Marshall offers his solution succinctly: “Our conclusion is that Jesus held a Passover meal earlier than the official Jewish date, and that he was able to do so as a result of calendar differences among the Jews.8 Each of these are plausible suggestions.
(4) There is also a fourth view that many find intriguing and attractive. It is clear that John understands this meal to be the same meal as the Synoptic meal. The reference to Judas Iscariot (13:21–30; cf. Matt. 26:20–25) solidly links the two. John also implies that this was indeed a Passover meal: Pilgrims must eat it in Jerusalem, as the law required (John 11:55; 12:12, 18, 20); it was a ceremonial meal with formal “reclining” (required at Passover); Jesus did not leave the precincts of Jerusalem after the meal (as the law forbade) but went to Gethsemane;9 Passover alms were distributed (13:29); and the disciples were in a state of “levitical purity” (13:10) required at Passover.10 Therefore the Johannine meal clearly suggests a Passover meal.
But what do we do with the passages that imply Jesus was crucified on the “day of Preparation?” The argument that according to John Jesus was crucified on Nisan 14 (the day of Preparation) is anchored to five texts that imply that the Passover had not yet happened when Jesus is crucified.
• 13:1–2: “It was just before the Passover Feast. Jesus knew that the time had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. . . . The evening meal was being served. . . .”
• 13:29: “Since Judas had charge of the money, some thought Jesus was telling him to buy what was needed for the Feast, or to give something to the poor.”
• 18:28: “To avoid ceremonial uncleanness the Jews did not enter the palace; they wanted to be able to eat the Passover.”
• 19:14: “It was the day of Preparation of Passover Week, about the sixth hour.”
• 19:31: “Now it was the day of Preparation, and the next day was to be a special Sabbath. Because the Jews did not want the bodies left on the crosses during the Sabbath, they asked Pilate to have the legs broken and the bodies taken down.”
We will look at these verses later in the commentary, but for now we note that they do not necessarily imply that the meal in John 13 was before Passover.11 In 13:1 “before the Passover Feast” probably describes when Jesus knew his hour had come, and the meal mentioned in 13:2 refers to the Passover itself described in 13:1. John 13:29 records that Judas must make a purchase for the feast, but this may well be something they need at the moment or something needed for the next day. In 18:28 the authorities fear defilement from Gentile contact, but such ritual uncleanness would expire at sundown (if it were Nisan 14). These men likely refer to eating an afternoon meal (the chagiga) on the day following the night of Passover (Nisan 15).12
Finally, the “day of Preparation” referred to in 19:14 and 19:31 does not necessarily refer to preparation for the Passover. It may refer to preparation for the Sabbath. In fact, 19:31 makes the connection with Sabbath explicit. Mark 15:42 refers to Jesus’ day of crucifixion (Friday) in this manner as well (“It was Preparation Day [that is, the day before the Sabbath]”). Moreover, we have no extrabiblical evidence describing Nisan 14 as “the day of Preparation for the Passover.”13 Many scholars think the phrase may simply be an idiom meaning “Friday of Passover week” (or, “the day of Sabbath preparation within the week of Passover”).
If this fourth line of reasoning is correct (and I am now compelled to think it may be), John’s chronology fits the Synoptic outline perfectly. Thursday evening began Nisan 15, when Jesus hosted a Passover meal; on Friday afternoon Jesus was crucified “on the day of [Sabbath] Preparation of Passover Week.” I recognize that this explanation has been long and perhaps complex. But it is important. In critical discussions of the historical reliability of John’s Gospel, the problem of chronology and the Johannine Passion narrative always come up for examination.
Jesus Washes His Disciples’ Feet (13:1–17)
IT MAY SEEM odd that although John records Jesus’ final meal (13:2) before his arrest (18:12), he does not record the well-known details of the Lord’s Supper as we have them in the Synoptic Gospels (Matt. 26:17–19; Mark 14:12–16; Luke 22:7–13) and Paul (1 Cor. 11:23–26). This is certainly not because John felt the meal was irrelevant (as Bultmann once argued). John 6:52–58 shows his genuine interest in the meal. As we will see, allusions to the meaning of the meal appear in chapters 13–16. Others have argued convincingly that John realizes he is writing for Christians who know the meal well. Perhaps he is consciously writing for Christians who have already read Mark.14 He may be conscious of a “Eucharist narrative” that contributed to the creation of Mark. If so, John wants to supplement (or interpret) the well-known tradition with new things that will give a more complete theology of the sacrament not seen elsewhere.15
In the Synoptic setting, two important motifs appear. (1) Jesus uses the imagery of Passover bread and wine to point to his death (body broken, blood poured out). Joined to this is the account of Judas’s betrayal (whose deed triggers Jesus’ arrest) and Peter’s denial. (2) Luke tells us that there was a dispute about greatness that night, and Jesus responds by telling the disciples about true servanthood (Luke 22:24–27). John weaves these themes together in the Upper Room as he shows Jesus speaking about and modeling true servanthood as well as declaring in clear terms his death and departure. In John 13, these two themes appear in sequence: the spiritual cleansing work of Jesus (13:2–11) and the moral mandate for humble service (13:12–20). In fact, later Jesus will even supply a homily on the vine (cf. Mark 14:25, “fruit of the vine”) to illustrate his intimate connection with his followers (John 15:1–11).
If I am correct that John views the meal as a Passover meal (see above), 13:1 likely hints that the footwashing was an event that took place just prior to the celebration of the dinner. As the meal is being served (13:2)16 Jesus interrupts the ceremonies in order to demonstrate the depth of his love for his followers (13:1b).
The footnote about Judas Iscariot in 13:2 reminds us that Jesus is completely aware of the cost of this love, for already the darkness, driven by the devil, is working its plans through Judas. The Greek at this point is uncertain: “The devil had already put in his heart that Judas should betray him [Jesus]” (lit. trans.). But whose heart is this? Our assumption that it belongs to Judas (NIV) is not altogether clear. The phrase “put in his heart” also means “made up his mind,” and according to some Greek manuscripts, Judas is not yet the object of the devil’s work. The sense is most likely: “When the devil had decided that Judas should betray Jesus. . . .”17 It is not till 13:27 that Satan enters Judas. Either way, Judas becomes one who has refused to believe (12:46); since he is surrounded by the darkness, he is ready to become a pawn of Jesus’ adversary, Satan.
Jesus’ decision to wash his disciples’ feet is anchored in his assurance of his relationship with God (13:3). He knows both his origins and his destiny and as such understands the authority he has been given. This gives him the courage to do something his followers never expected. Footwashing was commonplace in Greco-Roman and first-century Jewish culture and appears as a ritual of daily cleansing, as a religious act (such as washing the hands and feet in hot water before Sabbath), or as a token of hospitality when someone first entered a home.18 This was a world where roads were dusty and sandals were worn daily. In Luke 7:36–50 Simon the Pharisee’s failure to wash Jesus’ feet was correctly interpreted as a gesture of hostility. In 1 Timothy 5:10 washing the feet of the saints may be a metaphor for humble service.
The task of footwashing was so menial that according to some Jewish sources, Jewish slaves were exempt and the job kept for Gentiles. One story reports how Rabbi Ishmael returned home and his wife tried to wash his feet. He refused, claiming it was too demeaning. She took the question to a rabbinic court, arguing that it was in fact an honor.19 In the splendid romantic Jewish book of Joseph and Asenath, Joseph’s bride, Asenath, is so overcome with love for Joseph that she offers to wash his feet. When Joseph protests and sends for a servant girl, Asenath interrupts him. “No, my Lord, because you are my lord from now on and I (am) your maidservant. For your feet are my feet and your hands are my hands . . . another woman will never wash your feet” (20:4).20
At the very least, all our ancient sources show that footwashing was a degrading and lowly task. When done by a wife (for her husband), a child (for his/her parents), or a pupil (for his teacher), it was always an act of extreme devotion. But since it was an act with social implications, in no way do we find those with a “higher” status washing the feet of those beneath them. When Jesus “takes off his outer clothing” and wraps a towel around himself (13:4), he is adopting the posture of a slave.
While the circle of disciples seems to accept Jesus’ gesture (13:5), Peter reflects how shocking the deed must have seemed (13:6). The depth of his devotion to Jesus defines the strength of his objection. But Jesus is not simply giving them a lesson in humble service (this will come in 13:14); he is doing something that symbolizes his greater act of sacrifice on the cross (13:7). Only after “the hour” when Jesus is resurrected will any of this make sense (cf. 2:22; 12:16). But Peter continues to object in the most strenuous way, and Jesus’ rebuke is carefully worded. “If I do not wash you . . .” means that the question is not simply one of washing, but a question of who does the washing. Peter must participate in the work of Jesus (13:8–9). He lacks a cleansing that only Jesus can supply.
The language of 13:8 is peculiar. If Peter is not washed, he cannot have any “part” (Gk. meros) in Jesus. Throughout the LXX, the meros/meris word group refers to tribal land promised in Canaan that Israel was to inherit (Num. 18:20; Deut. 12:12; 14:27). It was one of the principal gifts of the covenant. But this gift of God is no longer “land,” but life with Jesus (cf. also ch. 15). Jesus is talking about eternal life and union with him (cf. 14:3; 17:24). If so, then the footwashing is symbolic of something more than a gesture of fellowship. It is only the death of Jesus (and its acceptance by the believer) that brings eternal life.
Peter’s zeal to gain this inheritance (13:9) is one more example of Johannine misunderstanding. Peter concludes that if footwashing gains an inheritance with Jesus, what would a thoroughgoing “washing” gain? Jesus’ correction in 13:10 brings us to perhaps one of the more controversial verses in the Gospel. “He who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but he is clean all over” (RSV, italics added).21 The italicized phrase is included in a wide range of Greek manuscripts and so is found in most translations, such as the NIV. But it is missing in a number of others. Most modern commentators reject it as an artificial scribal insertion.22 A later scribe may have thought that the bath initially referred to by Jesus was a previous cleansing. When Jesus says that he does not need to wash, this would not make sense since Jesus is about to wash their feet. The phrase clarifies: If one has bathed, one need not wash except his feet (which Jesus is doing).
But Jesus’ initial reference to bathing points to his own work.23 This is the bathing that makes one “clean all over.” The plain sense of Jesus’ words seems clear and almost proverbial: If you have been cleansed already, you don’t need to wash further. The cleansing work of Jesus—footwashing, symbolizing spiritual cleansing on the cross—is complete in itself and therefore Peter does not need to pursue more. Ongoing footwashing will remain Jesus’ mandate (13:14), but it does not need to be anchored in 13:10.
The curious return to the subject of Judas in 13:10b–11 (cf. 13:2) indicates that Jesus’ work of footwashing has not changed Judas’s heart. The fact alone that Jesus washed Judas’s feet is stunning and is a testimony to Jesus’ patience and love for his followers (even the man who betrays him). Judas is now a man in the grip of the darkness.
As with so many of Jesus’ powerful acts, here too he provides a discourse explaining what he has just done (13:12–17). But while the subject of the footwashing in 13:2–11 pertained to Jesus’ salvific work on their behalf, his teaching now points to how they might imitate his deeds.24 These themes are different, though related. Jesus’ sacrifice will be the supreme token of his overwhelming love for the world. In his Farewell Discourse, Jesus now wants his followers to exemplify that same love to one another. His act of sacrifice cannot be repeated, but his model of self-giving love can become a natural feature of the community that follows him and imitates him (13:14–15). Later Jesus will say that our love for one another should be like his in yet another way: We may be called to lay down our lives for our friends (15:12–13).
Jesus’ proverb in 13:16 echoes well-known words from the Synoptics: “A student is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master” (Matt. 10:24; cf. Luke 6:40; John 15:20). His prefacing words, “I tell you the truth” conceal the phrase “truly, truly” (Gk. amen, amen, see comments on John 1:51). Jesus is reinforcing the importance of this often-repeated truth. Servants should not consider themselves to be greater than their masters; if this is so, what is applicable to the master (sacrifice) is likewise applicable to the servant.
Jesus Predicts His Betrayal (13:18–30)
FOR THE THIRD time, the subject of Judas’s betrayal enters the story (13:2, 11, 18–19). The first footwashing section ended with a reference to Judas (13:11), and now Jesus’ interpretation returns again to thoughts of him (13:18–19). This builds the impression that Jesus is troubled about this matter (12:21) and that the betrayal of this man weighs heavily on him. Jesus makes clear that his choice of Judas was no mistake. The blessing pronounced in 13:17 is not directed to Judas, whose intentions Jesus knows perfectly. “I know those I have chosen” should not be read to say that Jesus chose the eleven and Judas has been rejected from the beginning. Brown’s translation serves the passage well: “What I say does not refer to all of you: I know the kind of men I chose. But the purpose is to have the scripture fulfilled. . . .”25
Jesus knows each of these men now with him in the room. There have been no surprises after so many years together in ministry. Jesus wants each of them. In 6:70 we have the same idea: “Have I not chosen you, the Twelve? Yet one of you is a devil!” Therefore this betrayal has not taken Jesus unawares nor should it shock his disciples (13:19; cf. 14:29; 16:4; Matt. 24:25). But the realization of the betrayal now fits the pattern of Scripture (13:18b), where earlier in Israel’s history David (prefiguring the Messiah) was likewise betrayed. Jesus’ citation of Psalm 41:9 (LXX 40:10) underscores the personal affront that this betrayal meant. To “eat bread” is a cultural symbol that refers to personal intimacy, and to expose the bottom of the foot is another symbol of personal contempt.26 Jesus possesses divine wisdom into these events and yet experiences bewildering dismay as they unfold.
John 13:18–19 is really a digression. Jesus returns to his subject of the servant and the master in 13:20. As servants are obligated to reflect the work of their masters in every respect, so too such servants enjoy the respect and the authority that comes from working in their master’s name. Both 13:16 and 13:20 are proverbs (preceded by “truly, truly”), and both echo well-known sayings in the Synoptics (Matt. 10:40).
This is the third and final time we read that Jesus is “deeply troubled” (12:21, Gk. tarasso; cf. its use at Lazarus’s tomb, 11:33, and at the prospect of the cross, 12:27). His words predicting his betrayal in 13:21 were firmly fixed in the Gospel tradition and appear almost identically in Matthew 26:21 and Mark 14:8 (cf. Luke 22:22). In all four Gospels the Twelve immediately begin questioning the identity of the betrayer. But since the Fourth Gospel is preserving the eyewitness testimony of the Beloved Disciple (19:35; 21:24), it is not surprising that John records a story unlike any other.
Since the disciples are eating a Passover meal (see above), it is necessary for them to recline (13:23).27 Jews in this period adopted the Roman triclinium table, a low three-sided table shaped like a “U.” Guests reclined on cushions around the perimeter (hence on three sides) while the interior of the table setting provided access for servers. The body was supported with the left arm (or elbow), the right hand was used for eating, and the feet were extended away from the table (cf. Luke 7:38).
The Beloved Disciple enjoys a place of honor, seated on Jesus’ right (cf. Mark 10:37, where James and John want to sit on Jesus’ left and right in glory). This explains why he can easily lean back and place his head near Jesus’ chest and speak to him privately, asking Jesus to divulge the name of the betrayer (13:24). Peter is not as near and so must call to the Beloved Disciple (13:23). Judas likewise has a place of honor near Jesus (on his left?) because Jesus is able to dip some bread into a common dish and serve the morsel to him (13:26).
This is the first time we have encountered the phrase “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” He will make an appearance at the cross (19:26–27), at the tomb (20:2–9), and at the resurrection in Galilee (21:1, 20–23), and his authority will be “stamped” onto this Gospel at its very end (21:24–25). There are no references to him in the Book of Signs (cf. 1:35). In the Introduction, I surveyed the possible options given for this figure and concluded that the traditional solution that this is John son of Zebedee is not unreasonable. Even though Lazarus is the only disciple specifically named as being “loved” by Jesus (11:2, 5, 36), here we learn that the Beloved Disciple was one of the Twelve and present in the Upper Room (this was not true of Lazarus). The Beloved Disciple also appears together with Peter in the Fourth Gospel both at the tomb (ch. 20) and on the sea (ch. 21). A similar link between John and Peter is also a Synoptic motif.
But if this is John himself, is it not curious that he would describe himself with a title like this? Some desire to see this as a self-designation in which John is pointing to “his sense of indebtedness to grace” and his desire to give himself a lower profile next to Jesus.28 In the Introduction, I suggested instead that this is rather the name given to John by his followers. John 21:20–21 seems to indicate that John has died and 21:24 suggests that his own disciples (“we know that his testimony is true”) have placed the finishing touches on his Gospel. This title is their tribute to their beloved teacher and pastor.
Meals were eaten with flat baked bread, and a broken portion of this bread was then dipped into common bowls on the table. Jesus says that the betrayer is the one to whom he provides some dipped bread (13:26), and then he promptly serves Judas (13:27). To serve someone a morsel from the table like this was not unusual (see Ruth 2:14), and the disciples could have taken it as a simple honoring gesture for Judas. If so, it is particularly ironic since this gesture of respect is the last thing Jesus can do for Judas, and it compares with Judas’s last gesture of betrayal in the garden (18:3–11).
At this point, Satan controls Judas’s fate (he “entered into him”; cf. Luke 22:3), and Jesus dispatches him to pursue the course he has set for himself. Even though the disciples seem unaware of what is happening (13:28) and speculate that Judas is leaving to purchase things for the feast, the story implies that John understood everything. He had been given the key to the morsel, and he sees the consequences of the gift.
The departure of Judas is “at night” (13:30). No doubt we should see this as both literal and symbolic. Night represents the antithesis of Jesus, who is the light. It is the darkness of unbelief and opposition (9:4), where people stumble (11:9) and find themselves in a fruitless search for life (21:3). It is the setting of Nicodemus, a man who must choose to leave the darkness and be reborn to join Jesus (3:2; 19:39). Therefore Judas represents a person described in 3:19: “Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil” (cf. also Luke 22:53, where Jesus describes the moment in the Garden of Gethsemane as the time “when darkness reigns”).
Some scholars have urged that 13:29 (“some thought Jesus was telling him to buy what was needed for the Feast”) proves that this could not be Jesus’ Passover meal. But this argument fails for three reasons. (1) The Passover continued throughout the next day and provisions would still be needed. Shops were likely open Thursday night during Passover to supply the many needs of the meal that night. (2) If Passover was the following night (Friday), Judas would have the entire next day to collect the needed items. (3) The disciples also wonder whether Judas is giving alms to the poor (13:29b). Such nighttime almsgiving was a Passover tradition. This was the only night of the year when the temple gates were left open (Josephus, Ant. 18:29–30). The Mishnah even suggests that worshiping Jews invite a poor person from the street to eat the Passover with them.29
Jesus Begins His “Farewell” (13:31–38)
THE DEPARTURE OF Judas into the night (13:30) marks a solemn divide in the plot of this Gospel. Jesus is now left with “his own” (10:27), those who are his intimate followers, to give them his final instructions. The arrival of the Greeks in 12:20 signaled that the “hour” was near at hand. Now in 13:31 it has arrived: “Now is the Son of Man glorified and God is glorified in him.” Except for Jesus’ personal exchange with Peter in 13:36–38, he addresses the entire group of Eleven even when he is interrupted by Thomas (14:5), Phillip (14:8), and Judas (not Iscariot, 14:22). In fact, 13:31 to 17:26 comprises Jesus’ lengthy “Farewell Discourse,” in which he not only talks specifically about his departure, but prays a “departure prayer” in a tradition with deep roots in the Old Testament.
Numerous academic studies have compared Jesus’ Farewell Discourse with those of dying teachers and leaders in antiquity. Jacob’s last words in Genesis 49 are typical of this form, as is Moses’ farewell in Deuteronomy 31–34. Not only does Moses identify his successor, but he gives teachings that must be recorded and a final blessing. Apocryphal Jewish literature from Jesus’ day offers more tantalizing parallels. In the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs each of the twelve sons of Jacob give farewell instructions, blessings, and prayers. In the Testament of Moses, we overhear Moses’ final words to Israel and Joshua. We even possess “testaments” of Solomon, Job, Isaac, and Adam30—fictionalized farewells imagined by Jewish authors between 100 B.C. and A.D. 200.
Jewish testaments imagine the dying (or departing) person surrounded by his most intimate friends and family. Standard literary elements generally appear. For instance, they always show a concern for the comfort and encouragement of those left behind. Often there is an exhortation to obey the law, and a deposit of writings is left behind.31 In some cases, the departing person passes his “spirit” to his followers or successor. Moses and Elijah do this respectively for Joshua and Elisha (Num. 27:18; Deut. 34:9; 2 Kings 2:9–14).
In the farewell of Jesus many of these elements appear. He encourages his disciples and comforts them (John 14:1). He also urges them to be obedient (13:34; 15:12), and from John’s perspective the “literary deposit” Jesus leaves behind is the Fourth Gospel itself. Moreover, Jesus promises that his Spirit will indwell and empower his followers following his death (14:17, 26; 15:26; 16:3, 13). In other words, we have in John 13–17 all of the elements of a Jewish farewell.
With the departure of Judas Iscariot, Jesus speaks directly of his glorification. Note that Jesus uses the past tense (Gk. aorist tense, 13:31), saying that already the glory of God has been revealed in his life (leading to reciprocal glorification).32 Throughout Jesus’ life of perfect obedience, God has been honored. God’s power has also been made visible through the many signs of Jesus’ ministry. Now the hour of glorification has dawned; even in washing his disciples’ feet, Jesus has revealed something more of God’s glory. Jesus’ glory thus occurs when God’s glory radiates through him.
The supreme place where this divine radiance will be visible will be on the cross (“God will glorify him at once,” 13:32, italics added).33 This future glorification, then, is not some distant event at the end of time or in heaven. It is the series of events that will unfold at the end of this momentous week: Jesus’ death, resurrection, and ascension.
If Jesus’ glorification is tied to his imminent death, he then must speak directly to one of the chief themes of a farewell discourse: his departure (13:33). “Little children” is an affectionate expression occurring only here in John (but seven times in 1 John); it was a title of address used by Jewish rabbis for their students. In 7:33–34 and in 8:21 Jesus had told his public audiences that he was departing, and in each case there was profound misunderstanding. His theme to these previous Jewish leaders was that in his departure they would no longer be able to find him, that his revelation would be closed, that he would be inaccessible.
John 13:33 is thus a crucial thought for the Farewell Discourse. It is balanced by the words of assurance that are threaded through the balance of the discourse for his intimate friends. He is departing so that he can prepare for their arrival (14:1–7). His desire is not to abandon them or to orphan them (14:18), but to enjoy their fellowship in perpetuity. Jesus possesses life that goes beyond the grave, and those who believe in him will possess the same life with him (14:19). Therefore Peter will shortly be assured that soon after Jesus’ departure he “will follow” his master to where he is (13:36).
The “new commandment” mentioned in 13:34–35 is also explained in 15:12–17.34 That the disciples are to love one another is nothing new (Lev. 19:18). That they are to love each other with the sort of love modeled by Jesus is something dramatic. Love characterizes Jesus’ relationship with God (14:31), and love characterizes God’s relationship with Jesus (3:35; 15:9–10). Jesus’ love is manifested in his obedience to the Father’s will (“the world must learn that I love the Father and that I do exactly what my Father has commanded me,” 14:31). Therefore disciples are to reflect the sort of love known to Jesus—a love expressed through committed obedience. “As I have loved you” points to Jesus’ most immediate act of love (the footwashing) and means that to truly love another, we must pursue a life of servanthood and sacrifice.
But the word “new” (Gk. kainos) may mean something more. We can recall that in this Synoptic supper setting Jesus also talked about “newness” in another respect. He referred to the “new” covenant established in his sacrifice, and he also said he would not again drink wine until he did it “new” in the kingdom of heaven. This “new command” may be a signal that Jesus is talking about life in a new era, a messianic era. In that era love must characterize his followers—a love patterned on the generous, loving act of God that saves his people.
Peter’s immediate response to Jesus’ announcement (13:36–38) includes two traditions about the apostle: Peter is to follow Jesus in death, and Peter is to deny Jesus shortly. Peter’s bravado and Jesus’ prediction of his denial are well known to the Synoptics (Matt. 26:32–34; Mark 14:27–30; Luke 22:31–34). Peter is eager to be with Jesus even if it costs him his life, and his words echo the language of the good shepherd (10:11, 15). Whereas Jesus will depart in “a little [while],”35 Peter must wait till “later.” Jesus must first do his work on the cross that makes possible Peter’s eternal life.
Jesus goes on to prophesy that Peter’s nerve will fail at the last moment. His good intentions to lay down his life, uttered so bravely, will not hold when confronted with genuine danger. Peter’s eventual death (“but you will follow later”) is not mentioned in the Synoptics but will come up again in John 21:18–19. Peter will have an opportunity to show his faithfulness in death and so “glorify God” (21:19); this is reinforced when Jesus returns from the grave.
Bridging Contexts
AS ONE OF the most popular chapters in the Gospel of John, chapter 13 presents unique challenges to us in the contemporary setting. The literary picture of the chapter—that is, the inner world of its drama—is potent. If we simply repeat the cultural forces at work in this first-century Passover setting (the drama of Jesus’ shocking the disciples, Peter’s refusal, Judas’s preoccupation with betrayal, Jesus’ announcement of death and departure), we should be able to recreate the gripping story that was so well known to John. This is a good story. But unfortunately those of us who know it too well, who know the outcome already, forget its power.
A growing list of scholars is convinced that the Gospels were written for illiterate audiences. Some estimate that only 10 to 15 percent of the Roman world was literate (and the average among Christians was lower still).36 This means that primarily the Gospels were heard by the ancient audience. It is hard for us to imagine a world in which we cannot read or write, but in antiquity it was common. Thus, anyone who wrote a gospel had to take its presentation into account. Churches acquired the skill of excellent reading and rhetoric. That the Gospels lend themselves to such a presentation can be seen in the recent oral production of Mark’s Gospel in the King James Version by Alec McCowen. Matthew’s Gospel has even been dramatized in film (with only the words of Matthew used). The Gospels make for good storytelling. In our presentation of this chapter, we must keep the story itself alive. If we miss its drama, we have failed to recreate John’s literary skill.
The footwashing. Three themes stand out in the chapter as offering strong potential for bridging to the modern context. We begin with the amazing picture of Jesus’ washing the disciples’ feet. As I argued above, the setting of this scene is the Lord’s Supper of the Synoptic Gospels. If indeed John assumes his readers know the details of a Gospel like Mark (see comment on 13:1), then we must make the hermeneutical decision whether to integrate John 13 into the themes of the Lord’s Supper. I believe such a decision is legitimate. The wider context of Jesus’ gesture of washing his disciples’ feet finds its significance in his death. This is why Peter’s washing is a prerequisite to his inheritance with Jesus (13:8); it will provide eternal life.
The washing parallels the picture we have in Mark when Jesus breaks bread and pours out wine. It is his life poured out—his work as a servant—that brings everlasting life. Therefore a practical application of John 13:1–11 can be found at a Eucharist service. Jesus is a servant who bears lowly tasks; his ultimate service is on the cross. Our union with this divine work brings about our salvation (cf. John 6:53, “I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you”).
Jesus’ gesture is also linked with his repeated teaching that he is a servant who embraces the unacceptable role. In Mark, for instance, Jesus predicts three times that he will die (8:31; 9:31; 10:33). Following his third prediction he remarks, “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (10:45). This describes a service that leads to a purposeful death, a servant’s death. When a dispute breaks out in the Upper Room this night among the disciples and they debate who is the greatest, Luke records Jesus’ answer: “But you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one who is at the table? But I am among you as one who serves” (Luke 22:26–27).
Paul likewise describes to the Philippians that the work of Jesus was in emptying himself in service: “But [he] made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant . . . he humbled himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross” (Phil. 2:7–8). The humility we see, therefore, in the footwashing of John 13 must be seen through the lens of Jesus’ ultimate “washing,” namely, his sacrificial death, which cleanses us of our sins (Acts 22:16; 1 Cor. 6:11; Eph. 5:26; Titus 3:5; Rev. 7:14).
If the footwashing points to Jesus’ death and if disciples need to be “washed” in order to be a part of Jesus’ following, is this washing also a symbol for baptism? This is a shorter step than we might expect. The Greek verb “to bathe” (louo, 13:10a) also appears in the New Testament for baptism. In Acts 22:16, for example, Ananias says to the converted Paul, “Get up, be baptized and wash [apolouo37] your sins away” (see also 1 Cor. 6:11; Eph. 5:26; Titus 3:5; Heb. 10:22). Added to this is a strong patristic tradition that interpreted John 13:10 as a reference to baptism (e.g., Tertullian, Cyprian). “A person who has a bath needs only to wash feet; his whole body is clean” then may become a secondary exhortation underscoring the importance of baptismal washing for the believer.
The surprising extension of this footwashing is that Jesus not only says that we must be washed, but that we must “wash one another’s feet” (13:14b). How do we do this? There is a long tradition in the church that has taken this literally.38 In some ancient liturgical traditions, footwashing became a part of Maundy Thursday rituals. Benedictine monasteries practiced footwashing as a part of their hospitality to guests. In early England, Catholic monarchs used to wash the feet of twelve poor men each Maundy Thursday. In the Greek Orthodox tradition in Jerusalem, the archbishop re-creates the footwashing scene with twelve priests, washing and kissing each of their feet.39 Other ancient interpreters, however, saw the command as a symbol of lowly service and nothing more (e.g., Augustine).
Today modern interpreters are similarly divided. For some, it is a general command to humility and service, while others believe that John’s church in the first century and their churches today should make footwashing a standard feature of the Christian life. At the very least the command of Jesus is that we take on a role that is similar to his: If he has washed our feet (bearing all of the symbolism appropriate in the first century), we ought to do something similar.
The betrayal of Judas. Another theme that stands apart in this chapter is the betrayal of Judas Iscariot. This is not a minor motif in John, for Jesus returns to it again and again (13:2, 11, 18, 21, 26–30). Jesus had chosen this man as one of his disciples. They had spent at least three years working together. The fact that he was the group’s treasurer (13:29) no doubt tells us that he held a place of trust and esteem. In the Upper Room Jesus even washes his feet. When did it dawn on Jesus that Judas would be his betrayer? (The first hint follows the miraculous feeding, 6:71.) What was it like for Jesus to wash this man’s feet? What was it like for Judas? Even Jesus’ gesture of giving Judas a morsel of food (13:26) reminds some interpreters of the Lord’s Supper served to them in this room.40 Judas participated in this supper (Luke 22:21; but see Mark 14:17–25), and if this morsel represents the sacred elements of the meal, it is striking that immediately after taking it, Judas falls to Satan’s control.
This story is more than a description of one man’s demise. Throughout the Gospel we have been warned about the struggle between light and darkness. In 1:5 we noted the absolute hostility between the two. As the Gospel unfolds, we hear again and again about those who choose the darkness despite their exposure to the light. Audiences divide following Jesus’ revelation of himself—some believe and some refuse. But in Judas we have a man who could be no closer to the revelation. In spite his proximity to the light, he chooses the darkness. John invites us to reflect on the horror of this. Does the same thing happen in the church today?
The command to love. The final theme deserving our attention is Jesus’ command to love. Note how this command follows immediately after the footwashing. Thus it is not a sentimental attachment Jesus expects among his followers. Rather, this is love that translates into a decision to act in profound ways. The closest Synoptic parallel to the command comes in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, where he teaches, “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matt. 5:43–44). For some scholars, the “new commandment” in 13:34 is a lesser command since it does not include our enemies. But this is a misdirected criticism. John’s Gospel speaks generously of God’s love for the world (John 3:16). Jesus’ mission is to save the world (4:42), to give it life (6:33) and light (12:46). The disciples are commanded to go into this world to continue Jesus’ work (17:18; 20:21).
But Jesus has specialized interests in the present setting. He wants his followers to show a quality of love unparalleled in the world. Carson puts it well: “At the risk of confounding logic, it is not so much that Christians are to love the world less, as that they are to love one another more. Better put, their love for each other ought to be a reflection of their new status and experience as the children of God.”41 The theme of community love, while not compromising our commitments to the world, matches another perspective in John concerning the world.
A mere perusal of John’s use of the term world uncovers a reality about our environment that may be sobering.42 A commitment to the world must take into account the reality of the world’s hostile attitude toward the light. Therefore the community of believers must be a refuge, a place of unparalleled affections and service that will at once set it apart from its environment.
Such a theme is relevant today. We live increasingly in a world that is experiencing fractured communities. As a result, Jesus’ new commandment is a challenge to us to examine how we live as Christ’s followers and how we demonstrate the quality of love he extended.
Contemporary Significance
TO APPLY THESE three themes in our present generation will take some skill. We will have to leave many questions unanswered and speculate broadly on others. Did Jesus expect his followers to literally wash his disciples’ feet? Or is this a symbol of humility? Is Judas merely an actor in history or a literary model set before us as a warning?
Jesus and footwashing. In order to bring the power of Jesus’ actions into my generation, I have to reconceptualize the significance of what he did. We could, of course, reintroduce footwashing into the church, and some churches (especially in the Pentecostal tradition) have done this.43 But footwashing is foreign to us and may evoke responses today never intended in the original biblical setting. But it was not foreign to Jesus and his followers. Jesus’ act was powerful not because of the footwashing itself, but because of the role he was assuming by doing it. To sweep a floor is commonplace, but for Queen Elizabeth of England to come and sweep my kitchen would be upsetting, not because sweeping is significant but because the Queen is doing it. It is the person of Jesus tied to this lowly role that brings power to this image.
It is impossible for us to imitate this lowly role of Jesus (13:14) unless we have a clear understanding of what he has done for us. Jesus only expects his disciples to wash someone else’s feet after they have been washed themselves. Similarly, Jesus does not expect us to work on behalf of another until we see the depth of that person’s work on our behalf.
John understands the logic of this precedence. In his first letter, he wrote, “This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another” (1 John 4:10–11, italics added). Without a prior, life-consuming experience of God’s love for us, we will be singularly ill-equipped to love anyone else.
This is what often characterizes the lives of people who have given themselves to profound acts of Christian service around the world. The story of their pilgrimage begins with an overwhelming encounter with God’s goodness, which never fades for them. This is precisely what Jesus has done. He has given his disciples a concrete image—a concrete experience, no less—of what it means to be loved. I am sure that this experience of being washed led to remarkable later reflections on what it meant to be saved after Jesus had died on Calvary.
This transforming experience of God’s grace is precisely what fueled the missionary work of the apostle Paul. He served because he had been served. Paul writes, “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me; and the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal. 2:20 RSV). The motivating force behind Paul’s life was not the law or a desire to promote his Jewish religiosity. The apostle realized that he had been washed, that God had given himself to him; therefore he can now freely and joyfully give himself to others.
To serve as Jesus served requires humility. It requires sacrifice. It means taking up the “lesser role” for the benefit of someone else. Many stories illustrate this point, but one always comes to my mind. Dr. Robertson McQuilkin was for many years the president of Columbia Bible College and Seminary in Columbia, South Carolina. In about 1980 Dr. McQuilkin began to see signs of memory loss in his wife, Muriel. For the next decade he watched as his wife’s career of conference speaking, radio shows, and television began to erode and disappear. In the mid–1980s she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and her deterioration continued to advance rapidly.
This situation naturally posed a crisis for Dr. McQuilkin. As president of a thriving college and graduate school, how could he meet the needs of both his wife and his job? Many Christian friends encouraged him to give Muriel over to professional care (i.e., a nursing home), but he could not bear the thought. As her condition worsened, he made a decision that was “a matter of integrity” (his words). He resigned from Columbia to care for his wife full time. “It was a choice between two loves,” he writes. Columbia wisely and compassionately supported his decision and began seeking his replacement.
The striking thing about McQuilkin’s personal story is its theological underpinnings. For some, he was choosing a task at remarkable social and professional cost. He was throwing away his career. Not so. His decision was grounded in God’s love for him, experienced also through Muriel’s unselfish forty-two-year love for him. This made his service a joy.
It is more than keeping promises and being fair. As I watch her brave descent into oblivion, Muriel is the joy of my life. Daily I discern new manifestations of the kind of person she is, the wife I always loved. I also see fresh manifestations of God’s love—the God I long to love more fully.44
Another tremendous story is that of Henri Nouwen, the popular author and Catholic priest whose books The Wounded Healer and Creative Ministry are on virtually every seminarian’s bookshelf. This theologian, who has taught at Notre Dame, Yale, and Harvard, moved in 1986 to a community called Daybreak, a residential community serving a hundred mentally impaired people. He writes:
L’Arche [the ark] exists not to help the mentally handicapped get “normal,” but to help them share their spiritual gifts with the world. The poor of spirit are given to us for our conversion. In their poverty, the mentally handicapped reveal God to us and hold us close to the gospel.45
Here again we have a man whose life has been so deeply touched by the gospel that it transformed him and gave him the joy of service. He had been washed by Jesus, and so he was washing others’ feet.46
These are two illustrations of what it means to take the teaching of John 13 to heart. Such service may not come in the dramatic forms described by McQuilkin or Nouwen, but the service we may enjoy will certainly be motivated by the same power that touched the lives of Jesus’ disciples. Jesus’ love and service for us transform us and empower us. Without such knowledge we cannot wash another person’s feet as Jesus would have us.
Judas Iscariot’s betrayal. Theologians have speculated endlessly about the person of Judas and what made him betray Jesus. Some have appealed to his disillusionment with the course of events in Jesus’ life. Others have suggested that Judas was actually trying to intervene and save Jesus from a messiahship gone wrong. One recent writer has used every effort to cleanse Judas’s reputation and show him to be Jesus’ foremost servant, handing him over to the Sanhedrin as Jesus wanted.47
The truth is that our evidence into the inner workings of Judas is extremely limited. But one feature does stand out. In the great struggle between light and darkness, between truth and falsehood, between God and Satan, Judas became a vessel of God’s opponents. While the actual “handing over” of Jesus occurs in chapter 18, the critical moment in Judas’s life takes place in 13:27: “As soon as Judas took the bread, Satan entered into him.” From this juncture, Judas is barely his own person. He has been absorbed by darkness. The last image we have is a man filled with regret, who tries to return his payment for the betrayal. But it is refused, and Judas commits suicide (Matt. 27:1–10; Acts 1:16–20).
Here we have a man who stood closer to the revelation of God than many. Judas heard Jesus teach and witnessed his miracles. While Peter expresses doubts about Jesus’ announced crucifixion and Thomas later doubts the resurrection, we have no description of Judas that shows him as anything but faithful. In the Upper Room, Peter refuses to have his feet washed. But Judas (apparently) complies, accepting the humble role of Jesus. Something happens to intervene in this man’s pilgrimage. He changes sides. To use John’s language, he flirts with the darkness to such a degree that he becomes one of its own.
C. S. Lewis is well known for his children’s books (The Narnia Chronicles) and his Christian apologetics (Mere Christianity, Miracles). But perhaps one of his best efforts appears in his Space Trilogy (Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, That Hideous Strength). Here Lewis tells the story of a man named Ransom, who travels first to Mars and then to Venus, only to discover that his own Earth is viewed by the universe as the Silent Planet, the planet of disarray and corruption. Creatures elsewhere have not “fallen,” and they live in blissful harmony with the spiritual forces of the universe.
Lewis’s interest in the trilogy is his study of the nature of corruption. Two men, Weston and Divine (symbolic names for the ‘divine’ Western world), introduce corruption where it has never been seen before. The first bullet flies on Mars, killing an innocent creature called a Hross—much to everyone’s shock. And on Venus, Ransom watches a new world born, and he meets Eve as she rules her kingdom and is sickened as Weston tries to tempt her to sin. It is the garden of Eden revisited.
What is most telling in these books is the progressive corruption of Weston and Divine. They are academics who have had access to the greatest wisdom the world has known. In their arrogance, they jettison their humility and flirt with ideas that make God obsolete and manipulate the course of history. In the course of their work—this is the important point—they become the unwitting pawns of Satan. On Venus Ransom finally confronts Weston in a life-and-death struggle as he fights to rescue Eve. But, Ransom observes, Weston has changed. Satan has become his co-conspirator; Satan has not so much possessed the man as absorbed him.
This is the picture of Judas. He made a wrong turn somewhere and courageously pressed ahead instead of admitting his mistake, going back, and retracing his steps. Before long he is in the realm of the darkness. In 13:11 Jesus knows this and can call him “unclean.” Then, ever so gradually, Judas becomes a pawn of the evil one. It is frightening to watch Judas run out into the “night,” where people stumble (11:9; 13:30). This is where the light is despised.
Is this betrayal a possibility that pertains not simply to the circle of Jesus’ immediate followers, but to his followers today as well? The setting of the Upper Room was a spiritual turning point in which Jesus was doing profound spiritual work. But at the same time, where God is most deeply at work, Satan’s attack is that much more acute. It is significant that in Luke’s version of the Lord’s Supper, at this point Jesus tells Simon Peter that Satan wanted him as well (Luke 22:31–32). This is stunning. Satan’s desire to sabotage the followers of Jesus reached more levels than we realize. Are those most intimately connected with Christ’s life and work today similarly vulnerable?
Judas is a parable and a warning. We read his story as “insiders,” thinking it depicts someone else. But Judas is a more disturbing figure than Pilate or Caiaphas or any of the Jewish leaders. He saw the light and understood it, but chose the darkness anyway. “Judas is the reminder that every day is judgment day and that on any day some faithful follower, like Judas—or like you and me—might turn tail on the light and stumble out into the darkness, caught up in evil or caught up by evil’s prince.”48
We too, then, are in danger—in danger of misunderstanding Jesus and of being seduced by our own dreams and visions for life. In doing this work, we betray Jesus. Paul is brutally honest with the threat of this possibility. He warns about those who may “follow Satan” (1 Tim. 5:15) and who may be snared by the devil “to do his will” (2 Tim. 2:26). John’s own pastoral experience made him face Christians who knew the faith well but corrupted it and stood against Christ. He named such people “antichrists” (1 John 2:18, 22; 4:3; 2 John 1:7).
Is this a description of famous theological heretics? Is it a profile of people like John G. Bennett, who stole over eighty million dollars from evangelical organizations in a fraudulent investment scheme?49 Is it believers who leave the community of Christ and then do irreparable harm to the church? In different degrees, it is all of these things. The “betrayer” is someone who “hands over” Christ to his enemies and who (unwittingly or not) serves the forces of darkness rather than the light.
The love command. Jesus uses the strongest possible language in 13:34. In the Gospel of John the Sanhedrin gives commands (11:57), the Father gives commands to the Son (10:18; 12:49, 50; 14:31), and Jesus gives commands to his followers (13:34; 14:15, 21; 15:10, 12). For Jesus, this is not a “suggestion” any more than the Father’s words to him were suggestions. This command to love bears all the weight of the person who uttered it.
The command to love was one of John’s foremost concerns. Throughout his letters he refers to it again and again as the hallmark of those in whose lives the presence of God is being reflected (1 John 3:11, 23; 4:7, 11; 2 John 1:5). No doubt as a pastor he has seen a church torn viciously by strife (1 John 2:11), so that showing Christ’s love ranks in importance to having faith in Christ (1 John 3:23).
The problem with this verse is that it may be impossible to order someone to love. The psychologist John Sanford writes in his meditations on John:
The difficulty from a psychological point of view with this command is that love cannot be willed. The person who tries to love by an act of will is likely to wind up with a persona that looks like he or she is loving, but with a shadow side hidden in the unconscious that negates it. Love must come from the heart if it is to be genuine; it cannot be feigned, not even with the best of intentions.50
Sanford goes on to describe the many complex ways that “love” can become an artificial manipulative response that disguises deeper levels of rivalry, brokenness, and anger. One key to Jesus’ ability to love is provided in 13:3. Jesus knew himself well; he knew his origins and his future and through this self-knowledge found the ability to love his disciples in the remarkable scene of the footwashing. Sanford would urge us to do the same.
The love command puts in abstract words what Jesus meant in 13:14 when he told his disciples to wash one another’s feet. As we discovered above, the same rule applies here: Unless one has a profound experience of being loved, it is virtually impossible to express profound love for another. I recall talking about this theme one day in a class when a student came forward to confide that she had no memory of ever being told “I love you” by her parents. Hers was a sterile family of no spoken emotion and rare gestures of physical affection. I could not help but wonder what this meant for her at twenty years old. Was her ability to love handicapped?
For evangelicals, the command to love has often been translated into a command to “love the world.” This fully appropriate attitude is then tied to evangelism and used to increase the work of the church in the world. But Jesus is talking specifically about how we love one another within his church. For instance, John Ortberg has pointed out that among evangelicals who are fighting for “the truth,” our opponents do not often qualify for love. “An old saying suggests that the first casualty of war is truth,” Ortberg writes. “This is not quite true. The first casualty of war is love.”51 He goes on to describe the Pharisees as representing rigorously orthodox thinkers of his day who stood on the right side of all the tough issues, yet they had the most difficult time loving those whom Jesus loved, people whom Jesus was willing to make a part of his community. Imagine how shocked they were when Jesus claimed confidently that the entire law was summed up in this command to love (Mark 12:28–34)!
When Christians disagree—in national debates on major cultural issues or in local congregations—there is an unresolved tension between the degree of our passion for truth and the command Jesus has given us to love. I have former students serving now in conservative churches who write to me with pain about how former friends have declared doctrinal war on them. I have had evangelical friends describe how they have discovered a new commitment to some social cause (the poor, the AIDS community, Palestinian rights), only to be ostracized and hurt by their churches. Zeal for truth and the command to love have sometimes been at odds in our evangelical world.
The same can be true in the local church. The command to love has its first application within the body of Christ. When a non-Christian steps foot inside a church, this should be his or her first observation: “By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (13:35). In the early third century, Tertullian wrote, “It is mainly the deeds of a love so noble that lead many to put a brand upon us! ‘See,’ they say, ‘how they love one another . . . see how they are ready even to die for one another.’ ”52 In the earliest church the social caring and commitment of Christians to one another was a profound testimony in a Roman world with its sharp social divisions.
Nothing so astonishes a fractured world as a community in which radical, faithful, genuine love is shared among its members. There are many places you can go to find communities of shared interest. There are many places you can go to find people just like yourself, who live for sports or music or gardening or politics. But it is the mandate of the church to become a community of love, a circle of Christ’s followers who invest in one another because Christ has invested in them, who exhibit love not based on the mutuality and attractiveness of its members, but on the model of Christ, who washed the feet of everyone (including Judas).