Vile and Despicable
The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him (v. 2).
It’s not exactly a non sequitur, but it does seem out of place. John is introducing the footwashing scene that kicks off a major section of teaching the night before Jesus’s passion. In the second half of verse 1 he says, “Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.” Two sentences later we read, “And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself” (vv. 2b–4) in preparation for washing his disciples’ feet. Between those two sentences that seem to go together so well, this sentence obtrudes: “The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him” (v. 2a). Why does John introduce this note of dissonance into an otherwise beautiful scene?
It may be to emphasize something that we tend to forget, that Judas was present for this scene. In other words, Jesus washed Judas’s feet. The text clearly indicates that Jesus is aware of that disciple’s treachery—in verse 10 he says, “You are clean, though not all of you,” and John interjects, “For he knew who was to betray him” (v. 11)—and yet he chooses to wash his feet anyway.
Most of us are not familiar with the custom of footwashing, so we might miss the radical nature of what Jesus does in this passage. But in first-century Middle Eastern culture, footwashing was an important element of not only personal cleanliness but also hospitality. Before entering someone’s home, or at least before sitting down or reclining for a meal, guests would wash both their hands and their feet. It was the host’s responsibility to provide water and towels so that the guests could perform this task themselves or else, in more wealthy settings, to provide a slave to do it for them.
Feet were a delicate subject. For one thing, in a place with dirt roads and rudimentary sewage systems and people walking around in sandals, one’s feet by the end of a day were the filthiest part of one’s body. At the same time, feet connoted intimacy; in fact, in the Hebrew Scriptures “feet” was often used as a metaphor for the sexual organs. For both these reasons, the touching of feet was rigidly circumscribed because of the shame attached to the act in that honor-based culture. It is said that a rabbi at that time could demand his disciples could perform even the most degrading tasks, except anything having to do with his feet. That’s why the service of footwashing, when offered, was relegated not to just any slave but to the youngest, lowest-in-the-pecking-order slave in the household.
That’s why it’s so radical that Jesus, rabbi of rabbis, the one John proclaims throughout his gospel as God Incarnate and the Savior of the World, stoops to the level of washing his disciples’ feet. He thumbs his nose at the honor-shame system, taking upon himself the most shameful activity possible and presenting it as the guiding ethic of his new community. He tells them, “If I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet” (v. 14). What a topsy-turvy world this commonwealth of God is! The last are first and the first last, the great serve the lesser, and everyone is called to emulate the lowest slave in the household. No wonder Peter objects!
But even more astounding is what we see in that seemingly out-of-place remark in verse 2: Jesus even washed the feet of the one who was getting ready to betray him. That is the epitome of Jesus’s redefining of love, and to me it is what makes Judas’s story all the more tragic. If he had not despaired and taken his own life, is it beyond the realm of possibility that Jesus would have forgiven him and accepted him back into the fold after his resurrection? He did it for Peter, after all (see John 21). Why not for Judas?
This Holy Week, let us reflect on this lavish and surprising expression of grace, not only to Judas, but also to us. For if somebody as vile and despicable as Judas Iscariot was not in Jesus’s estimation beyond the pale, surely grace is available to somebody like you or me. As vile or despicable as we may find ourselves to be from time to time, Jesus still stoops down in front of us, looks at us through the hair hanging over his eyes, smiles, and says, “Give me your foot.”
Grace and peace,
bob
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