Preaching Paths 18 May 2025 Eastertide 5C

Sally A. Brown, Professor Emerita, Princeton Theological Seminary

Today’s brief gospel text, John 13:31-35, sends us back—well into Eastertide!—to pre-crucifixion words of Jesus. These verses speak of his crucifixion as “glorification.” Then, in words both simple and profound, Jesus presents our post-resurrection task: to love through action, as he has loved us.

Preachers will need to make clear that “when ‘he’ had gone out” (v 31a) refers to Judas’ departure into the “night” (v 30) to betray Jesus. One can almost hear, throbbing beneath the five chapters of the “Farewell Discourse” (chs 13-17), a running drumbeat, subtle and ominous. Judas’ exit has set in motion a chain of events that will culminate, inexorably, in Jesus’ arrest, trial, abuse, and crucifixion.

The term “glorify” connected with Jesus’ suffering and death (vv 31b-32) can be difficult to grasp. To “glorify” might be best understood, “to disclose the true nature of someone.” The Father glorifies the Son, revealing his divine identity through deeds of power (the “signs” in John). In turn, the Son’s fidelity to the ways of the Father—culminating in the foot-washing we have just witnessed (13:1-15)—reveals the true nature of the being and power of the Father. Jesus’ action reveals that divine power works in ways antithetical to the ostentatious displays of dominance and force characteristic of this world’s empires. The “glory” of both Father and Son will be most fully revealed in Jesus’ “lifting up” on the cross (cf 3:14-17). V 32b might be paraphrased, “God himself is glorified in [the Son of Man].”

Next, Jesus speaks of his departure to a place where his disciples, as well as his Jewish opponents, cannot follow. They will seek him, but not find him (v 33). Even as they recoil in shock and dismay, Jesus gives them instructions for proceeding into the unthinkable future he has just announced. He gives them a single, “new” command: that they love one another as he has loved them: actively, in radical acts of mutual service like the one they have just experienced—acts of humble service so contrary to societal norms as to mark those who undertake them, unmistakably, as followers of Jesus.

This command has not been rescinded, although the Church has, for centuries, seemed to prefer parsing doctrine to washing feet. What does it look like, in our time and place, to dispossess ourselves, like Jesus, of every distinction, every prerogative, to serve as Jesus did? What is the equivalent of kneeling on the floor like Jesus did, washing even the filthy feet of the one about to hand him over to death, and the crusty feet of Peter (13:8), who will soon swear by all that’s holy that he’s never met this Jesus of Nazareth? Tending to the messiness of human life is inconvenient and risky. It’s naïve, isn’t it, to trust the people whose feet you wash? How can you be sure you aren’t being taken for a ride by that teenager who comes to your door asking for bus fare to get home?

Pope Francis declared an Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy, beginning in December of 2015 and ending in November of 2016. He defined “mercy” as “entering willingly into another’s chaos.” He did not have in mind theoretical chaos, but material chaos, which is always fraught with moral ambiguity. Into whose chaos is Jesus sending us to love as he has loved, exposing ourselves to the ambiguities of others’ chaos—risking criticism, and perhaps even inviting retribution, from those who pass moral judgment on those we seek to serve? In an historical moment when hundreds of thousands of lives have been thrown, by edicts from on high, into chaos, where is our kneeling place?