NOTES for Joh 13:21-38

Jesus has gathered His disciples for the final meal, the meal of the covenant. He gives them a new law unlike the old one. His commandment concerns love within His community. It is so easy, after all, to love those who share your beliefs, your brothers...

But the Lord tells them that one of them is a traitor. His commandment now becomes almost impossible to fulfill: how can they love one another if any one of them may suddenly prove to be an enemy? Each tries to distance himself from the dreadful stigma of traitor, but Jesus stops them. He predicts that they will all prove unfaithful—and very soon, before morning.

The disciples, and after them all believers, are not divided into good and bad, faithful and unfaithful. They are united by one human weakness and one incomprehensible commandment: to love one another without trying to guess who will prove to be an enemy, and to imitate the love of the Teacher, who loves them unconditionally.

Today's reading helps us understand more deeply the nature of the Kingdom and its difference from our world, which has not yet been transformed. The passage concerns Jesus' words at the Last Supper, commonly called the ‘commandment of love’ (verses 34–35). At first sight, these words seem somewhat strange. Indeed, what could the apostles have found new in a call to mutual love? The need to love one's neighbour is spoken of extensively in the Old Testament, in the writings of learned rabbis and in the teachings of Torah teachers. Yet Jesus' words contained something no one before Him had spoken of. It is no accident that the call to mutual love comes immediately after His words about the glory with which the Father is glorified in the Son and the Son in the Father (verses 31–32). ‘Glory’ here evidently means God's presence, which accompanied the Jewish people throughout their history, beginning with the Exodus, and dwelt first in the Tabernacle and then in the Temple. It is no surprise that the Kingdom too is permeated by this presence. Yet it was Jesus' disciples who were to carry the Kingdom into our world as it undergoes transformation; this task was entrusted to the apostles and to those who would become their followers (John 17:18–21). And apparently the easiest way to recognize Jesus' disciples is by those expressions of love which are the signs of the Kingdom brought into the world by the Saviour. Of course, such expressions of love were known in the world before Christ's coming. In the biblical understanding, love is above all not emotion but an attitude toward another. The one who loves is not the one who admires or delights in the beloved, and certainly not the one who flatters them, but the one who wishes them good—not merely in words, of course, but in deeds. In the Kingdom, however, love becomes something more than a simple attitude. Any relationship involves interaction with the one to whom we relate, and interaction is possible only within a particular medium that carries it. In our world, not yet fully transformed, that medium is the realm of the psyche, associated with expressions of our inner life that do not go beyond the existing order of things. So-called earthly love is only a glimmer of the Kingdom penetrating a world afflicted by evil and sin. But Jesus speaks of a love that can be regarded as a manifestation of the Kingdom itself, a love that forms, so to speak, the very substance of the Kingdom. Human beings are incapable of such love; it can be received only as a gift conveyed by the Saviour from the Father. But a person can become a bearer of this love in a world awaiting transformation and renewal, and it appears that this is precisely what Jesus calls His disciples to do. He calls them to receive the Kingdom, to enter it, to make their home in it and, while living in the Kingdom, to carry it with them and reveal it to the world. This is the Church's principal and sole task. Everything else is only a means of accomplishing it.

Christ announced that one of His disciples would betray Him, and everyone began to worry about who it could be. And while the other evangelists note the humble self-questioning of the disciples, who asked, ‘Is it I?’ (Mark 14:19), John draws attention to the fact that at these words the disciples looked at one another. There is no contradiction here: the response to such an announcement cannot help having these two sides. Yet while a self-critical look at oneself and one's possible weaknesses may prove fruitful, suspicion and self-exaltation on the principle ‘anyone but me’ are unlikely to do so, as Peter was about to discover.

Many believe that the morsel handed to Judas was the Bread of Christ's Body, but all the disciples received this Bread, so it is unclear why it should have singled out the betrayer. John notes, however, that Jesus gave Judas bread after dipping the morsel, and from the way the table was laid in antiquity we know that bread was dipped in a salt solution. (Incidentally, the Slavonic translation explicitly mentions the ‘salt dish’ here.) Salt was a symbol of faithfulness; sharing it meant entering into an indissoluble covenant of friendship. Thus, by holding out the morsel, Christ offered Judas the renewal of their friendship and an opportunity to abandon his plan of betrayal.

Judas could have refused the bread and salt, but he accepted them without abandoning his plan: in other words, he immediately broke his oath. That is why after the morsel Satan entered into him: Satan had previously suggested the plan, but had not yet taken complete possession of Judas's heart. Rejecting the last chance of reconciliation, Judas goes out into the night. And this is not only the physical night, but also the triumph of the darkness he now carries within him.

Believers, and also unbelievers, often have to hear something like this: the main problem for a person is that he cannot meet God or Christ personally. If only everyone saw with their own eyes, then there would be no unbelievers; everyone would believe. But here is the situation of the Last Supper. Judas not only sees Christ face to face, but also breaks bread with Him. One could hardly be closer or clearer. And yet he does not change at all. He does not begin to trust the Teacher more than before. And he certainly does not repent of anything. On the contrary, he goes and does what he intended to do. And, strange as it is, Jesus tells him to do it quickly. What is this: a desire to dot the i's as quickly as possible? Maybe.

But another possibility exists: Judas is being given one last chance. Jesus, of course, perfectly understood what Judas intended to do: He sees the human heart through and through, as God sees it. Judas's plan was not a secret to Him, as it was to His disciples. But Jesus understands something else too: a person has a chance for repentance and conversion until the very end. Meeting God face to face, of course, by itself does not guarantee a good outcome. Just as fellowship with Jesus at one table and the breaking of bread with Him did not lead Judas to a good outcome. But such a meeting can become a moment of decision. And what it will be depends on the person's own choice. Meeting God only gives this choice form, makes it visible and conscious for the person himself.

And then a person has a new chance for repentance and conversion. Of course, there are no guarantees that he will use it. There are no guarantees at all in spiritual life. But if there is a chance, it must not be taken away from a person. And Jesus leaves Judas this last chance. He says to him: act. Do what you have planned. Of course, this is not approval of betrayal. It is rather a push that brings a person out of stupor. Since you have decided, do it.

Such words usually bring a person out of spiritual stupor and indecision. And he begins to act. Then there is also a chance that the person will change his mind. That he will change his decision, even at the last moment. Judas did repent, after all; he directly told the high priest that he had betrayed an innocent man. True, he said it too late, when everything had already been done. The decision came late, and the repentance was incomplete. This incompleteness led Judas to suicide. But he received his last chance. And he used it as he wanted and was able.

As He was leaving His disciples, Christ called them children. The first thought that comes to mind at this form of address is of His close relationship with His disciples, of the love He brought into the world. But if we remember Whom Christ constantly called His Father, with Whom He abides in indissoluble unity, we must acknowledge that, behind the comparison of His relationship with His disciples to that of a father and his children, there lies another testimony to Himself as God.

Christ's words that He is giving a new commandment often cause bewilderment. What could be new about the commandment to love, when great sages and teachers seem to have called for it before? In fact, even those sages who recognised the value of love understood it in ways that differed, to one degree or another, from the Gospel's understanding. But that is not even the point. The newness of the commandment Christ gives lies in its close connection with His self-sacrifice. As He goes to the cross, He commands us to love one another as He Himself has loved us. Jesus had already called on His disciples to take up their cross and follow Him. This does not mean that everyone is literally required to go to their suffering, but readiness for sacrificial self-giving, moved by love, must become the norm rather than something exceptional.

This is extremely difficult and still seems impossible. The Lord knows that we are weak and, for the most part, unable to live up to the high standard He has shown us. But the height has been shown. He will help us rise to it.

The Lord has given us a new commandment (see John 13:34), a commandment that did not exist before in the Old Testament. We may recall the commandment to love our neighbor (see Lev 19:18), but it is not the same thing, as Jesus Himself says. It is a new commandment. But what is the difference? In both cases, after all, the Lord calls each of us to love... In the second case, however, He speaks of mutual love—love for one another. “Love one another”: Jesus addresses these words to His disciples, to a community of people, precisely because mutual love requires effort from everyone. We cannot shift everything onto our neighbor, thinking that it is hard for us while he, as a Christian, is obliged to love. Yes, these words were spoken to a group of people so that no one could turn away and pretend not to know or understand what was meant. This is how the Lord turns us toward one another, making us open ourselves and labor as we hear His voice: “Love one another.”

The Savior's words about love as a new commandment may at first glance seem somewhat strange. What, after all, is new here? In the gospel era everyone knew that the essence of the Torah came down to two commandments: love God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. This was a commonplace of the rabbinic tradition of that era. So what is new in Jesus' commandment about love? First of all: it is the love of the Kingdom. Love one another as I love you - this is the main meaning of the commandment Jesus gives. But what does the love of the Kingdom mean? The Bible says a great deal about love. And if we reflect on all that is said, we can conclude that in the Bible love is first of all a relation.

An intention directed toward a person or toward God. First of all will, not emotions and not reflections. But also relations in the sense in which people say that they unite people with one another. Love is the striving for communion; hatred is the unwillingness to commune. And if there are no relations, no intention, then there is neither love nor hatred. But the medium within which communion takes place remains natural in our world. Psychic. And the psyche is part of nature, though a very special part.

And our communion in this world remains in many respects a natural process because of the medium in which it takes place. Intention as the basis of communion is spiritual, while the medium is natural. In the Kingdom, however, everything is different. Natural structures exist in themselves according to the laws of nature. But the Kingdom is not nature; its structure is formed by relations. The relations of its inhabitants with God and with Christ, their relations with one another, and finally the relations of Christ Himself with His heavenly Father as the foundation of the Kingdom, form its, the Kingdom's, structure.

But the nature of the Kingdom, or rather what replaces nature in it, is love. God's breath, filling the Kingdom, becomes love in it. And all relations in it are possible only as relations of love. Love is the medium of the Kingdom, in which all interactions among its inhabitants take place. And the meaning of the new commandment Jesus gives is precisely that His followers should live in this medium. That they should abide in the Kingdom. Together with Him. This new life is Christianity.

Before the denial, immediately after the Last Supper, Peter thought he could serve God, that his love was enough, that he had everything needed to lay down his life for Christ, to follow Him. We too often think: "Well, I definitely have strength for this; I would never go that far," and so on. And then we act even worse, or fail to handle something even less difficult.

Peter was defeated because he did not say to Jesus: "Help me stand firm; give me the strength to follow You." He said, as we often do, that he would do it, relying on his own strength. After the denial, after repentance and forgiveness, Peter became the head of the Church; he now knew that all hope must be placed in God.

Often even the people most unsure of themselves are in fact extremely self-reliant. We do not fully realize that without God we could do nothing, including, and especially, following Him. But if we ask Him not to allow a denial, if we ask God for faithfulness, He will give it.

On Good Friday, on a Good Friday that is not distant from us but closer than ever, although we were not yet alive then, Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh spoke these words from the pulpit. '<...> The Mother stood by the Cross; Her Son, betrayed, reviled, cast out, beaten, torn, tormented, was dying on the Cross. And She was dying with Him… Many, surely, looked at Christ; many, surely, felt shame and fear and did not look into His Mother's face. And now we turn to Her, saying: Mother, I am guilty—among others, yes—of Your Son's death; I am guilty—intercede for me. Save us through Your prayer, through Your protection, because if You forgive, no one will condemn or destroy us… But if You do not forgive, Your word will be stronger than any word spoken in our defense… <...> Let us stand before the judgment of our conscience, awakened by Her grief, and bring a repentant, contrite heart. Let us bring Christ our prayer that He may give us strength to awaken, come to our senses, come alive, become human, make our life deep and broad, capable of holding the Lord's love and presence. And with this love let us go out into life to create life, to fashion and build a world, deep and spacious, that would be like a garment clothing the Lord's presence, shining with all the light, all the joy of paradise. This is our calling; this is what we must accomplish by breaking ourselves, giving ourselves, dying if need be—and it is needed!—because to love is to die to oneself, to cease valuing oneself and instead value the other, whether God or a human being; to live for another, laying aside concern for oneself. Let us die as much as we can, let us strive with all our strength to die, so that we may live by love and live for God and for others.' So close to us is that Friday on which the Metropolitan spoke these words, as are all the Good Fridays that have been and will be. 'I am guilty.' I was not alive then, but I am guilty. We cannot regard this day as a symbolic commemoration of events that once took place. No. For the Body and Blood of which we partake are not a symbol, but the very Body and the very Blood. Here I am, and I am guilty here and now. It is frightening when people begin to greet one another for Easter in advance—this really happens, and happens often! Today I know nothing of Easter; I know only one thing: whether woman or man, I am guilty, for He died, and I did nothing to prevent it.