“What are you doing, Master?” asked Peter.
“I am going to wash your feet, Peter”, came the reply.
“No! You are the Lord! You are the Holy One! You cannot perform so lowly a task!” said Peter, beginning to rise, but Jesus pressed him back on the cushions with-
“Peter, if you do not allow me to cleanse you, you cannot enter heaven”.
When he had finished drying Peter’s feet, he moved on to Andrew, and so on, to all of us, talking as he did so-
“To teach you, I must be your Master and your Rabbi, but to save you and to gather you into Paradise, I must be your loving and devoted servant, for only by love can you come into the kingdom, and only in humility can you learn love. He who would be highest must first be lowest; he who would be first must begin by being the last. Just as the Son of Man, in order to triumph into life eternal, must first suffer death”.
“Master, why do you dwell on such things?” asked Peter. “If we were to leave Jerusalem tomorrow, and go south into the Judean hills or the desert beyond, within a day or two we would be sure to meet up with the rebels, and you would be safe until all the trouble had died down. Then perhaps…”
“Perhaps what?” asked Jesus “Perhaps come back with a mighty horde to kill Romans? Peter, you speak with Satan’s voice. There is no might or greatness in force. Any strength the Romans have is given to them by my Father, and when he judges the time has come, he will take it from them, and the Roman Empire and might and glory will be as a handful of ashes cast before the desert wind”.
Jesus paused, as he went on to another, and then said in a much quieter voice-
“As for the Son of Man, he shall not appear in his glory, until he has been delivered into the hands of the gentiles, and cast down by them into Sheol. Then after three days, he will triumph over death and go to the place which has been prepared for him, at the right hand of the Father”.
As Jesus said these words, I looked around their faces, and I swear they had closed their minds- to a man! They just refused to hear! It was as if Jesus had not spoken- as if he had not uttered a single word. Oh they were fine with the good works, the miracles and the stories, they could take any amount of all that feeling good and looking good, but when it came down to the bitter reality of what must come, must be, must happen, must be endured…. They could not cope. They must leave it to someone else- Jesus- anyone- his grubby, unprincipled, foreign friend, anyone, just so long as they don’t have to face it!
Jesus came to me last, and spoke softly-
“Judas? Oh, Judas, will you hear my words? Will you? Or will you betray me as they do now, even as they sit in silence?”
When he had finished, and I had replaced my sandals, Jesus rose, and signalled for the Paschal meal to be brought in- the lamb, the unleavened bread, spiced broth, eggs with their shells all scorched, bitter herbs, and the peace offering, also of lamb. We all sat, and John began his ritual questioning- ‘Rabbi, what is especial about this night…’
Then after the singing of the first part of the Hallel, and after we had drunk of the second cup, the Paschal meal was partaken of. Appetites were not high, and so we continued picking at the lamb, and dipping scraps of bread in the broth, long after the third cup, the singing of the completion of the Hallel, and the concluding fourth cup of wine.
Then Jesus took up one of the flat cakes of unleavened bread, and after he had prayed over it silently, he broke it, and handed pieces round the table, saying-
“This is my body, broken for you and for many. Eat it. Do this in remembrance of me, when I am gone to my appointed place”.
All conversation had ceased, and each man looked- troubled? Wary?- as he ate his morsel. Then before attention could wander, Jesus poured a further cup of wine, and after a few words of blessing, he passed it round the table, saying-
“This is my blood shed for the forgiveness of sins. I will not drink wine again until I am come into the Kingdom. Drink. Do this as often as you will”.
I think all present were moved by these touching gestures and by the intimacy of his words. There was a one-ness, almost, a communion which I had never felt in the group before. I remembered the day in Magdala, at the inn with Mary, the warmth and peace of sharing completely with him, and again at Matthew’s house, with the ‘last’ of Matthew’s bread and wine.
I understand the twelve and their appointed acolytes have since seized on this simple ritual of the bread and wine, his ‘body and blood’ as he called them, and made it the basis of their worship and prayer; that they administer it, like a talisman, to the other worshippers. I do not feel sure that this is what he intended. He did not say ‘do this to much psalm singing’ or ‘only at morning or evening service’ or ‘only at the hands of an elder’- he just said ‘do this in remembrance of me…do this as often as you will’.
I looked around the table and all eyes were on him for the first time, and then I realised what he was doing. He was commanding their attention, and preparing for one last assault on their closed minds. When the cup had returned round the table, Jesus set it down, and then said, quietly-
“One of you will betray me”.
There was a moment of silence, and then a general hubbub of denial- ‘I will not- not I- do you think I could..’ and suddenly Peter’s voice was heard above the rest-
“I would die for you, Master; I would never betray you!”
Jesus half rose, and answered loudly, in a voice racked with love and pain-
“Peter, before the cock crows twice, you will have denied me THREE times!”
All fell silent again. I cannot describe my feelings at that moment. I felt dead- a damp corpse that still hears and sees, and I could see very clearly- horribly clearly. Horror. I was filled with a silent-shrieking horror.
Jesus began to speak again-
“We are all instruments of God. His will is undeniable; it is written in the scriptures, and against his will, none can stand.” A pause to let this sink in, and then-
“I say again, one of you will betray me”.
Someone asked, lamely-
“Who could do this, Master?”
Jesus did not answer at first. He leaned forward and stretched out his hand to the bowl with the remains of the bitter herbs. He scraped some of the chopped leaves from the bottom of the bowl, and his hand shone with the dressing of oil and vinegar. Then he said-
“Will not one of you drink from this bitter cup with me?”
I do not know how long he waited for a reply. I do not know how long I watched my own shaking hand move slowly towards the dish. I do not know how long and loud my mind shrieked and screamed at my hand to come back, as though it were a separate creature with a consciousness of its own which must be overcome and ordered into obedient submission. But my hand moved out. My fingers seemed to climb onto the rim of the shallow bowl like a loathsome crawling reptile. The bowl tipped towards my hand, and the oil and vinegar ran over my fingers, leaving them flecked with fragments of the green herbs.
Somewhere in this, I heard Jesus say-
“He who does this thing, it were better for him that he had never been born”.
The screaming in my mind receded, briefly as I puzzled over the words. Was it a last warning to reconsider? A reprieve from the burden which I was about to take on myself? ‘No’ came the answer. It was merely a final urging to be fully aware of the consequences which my action would have on the condition of my mind and my soul.
I lifted my hand to my mouth- strangely it was ‘my’ hand again, part of me, part of this man Judas, and put my fingers in my mouth. The taste was bitter and sour, but nothing to compare with the bitter desolation and sour despair which racked my mind.
I turned to look at Jesus and another knife pierced my heart, another raging sea of agony burst over me, for in spite of the pain and misery and death that he was bent on bringing on himself, at that moment, all I could see in his eyes was love and pity and sorrow for me, and my desolation was complete.
I made to rise, but Jesus caught my sleeve and said-
“That which you must do, do it quickly”.
Not that his own resolution might fail him, but he knew that mine might. I could not speak. I looked round the others, but not one of them could meet my eyes. They had already betrayed him by refusing his plea, and they knew it. When I finally rose, Jesus murmured one more word in my ear-
“Gethsemane”.
I remember thinking ‘Ah yes- on the Mount of Olives. High ground again.
I picked my way through the figures still reclining round the table, until I reached the door, at the opposite side of the room. No one spoke, and no one made any attempt to hinder me. Now consider this well. Not one person present could have been ignorant of what had been said, of what was meant, or of what I was to do, and why, and what the consequences would be. Yet not a word of caution or argument did I hear; not even a gesture of hindrance was made. You might even see if my fellow scribes have any thoughts in this vein. It will not take long.
No, they were glad to see me away on my dread mission because with me I took their shame, their failure. I carried the sin of which they were incapable, and like one who, finding a favourite animal fatally wounded would release it into death, and then in disgust shatter the blade that had dealt the blow, so having let me carry their unspeakable burden, they cut me from their lives. Worse yet, when their new found friends started to set down the stories of Jesus’ ministry, they had these scribblers cut me out from Jesus, too! By their accounts, we never exchanged a word!
You who come after, I do not quarrel with your judgement of me, impertinent and uninformed though it may be, but those who were there, and in full knowledge of my actions and motives, have chosen to with-hold the truth, and to bind me in omissions, half truths and deceit. They speak of me only when they must, and then almost musingly, as though they were hardly aware of my presence- ‘who? Judas? Oh yes there was a- I believe he was the one who- not that we were involved, of course- we had no idea- never knew him- not a Galilee man at all- some foreigner-.’
Enough, Judas. Back to your tale-