FIFTH SUNDAY OF EASTER, YEAR C

May 18, 2025

Saints Matthew and Mark, Barrington, R. I.

John 13:31-35

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; even as I have loved you, that you also love one another.

 

At this point in the liturgical year, we’re almost three-quarters of the way through the forty days between our Lord’s Resurrection and his Ascension into heaven. Today’s Gospel takes us back, however, to Maundy Thursday, the night before the Crucifixion, when Jesus and his disciples were gathered for their last supper together. This part of John’s Gospel is called the “Farewell Discourse,” because Jesus is giving his disciples instructions on how to carry on after he’s taken from them. So, it makes sense that the Church appoints readings from the Farewell Discourse on these Sundays leading up to the Feast of the Ascension when the risen Jesus finally is taken up into heaven.

 

It’s easy to overlook the key point that at the Last Supper we’re hearing from someone who’s to all outward appearances a defeated and doomed man. His enemies are closing in. In John’s Gospel, the Jewish authorities have been conspiring to have Jesus put to death ever since the raising of Lazarus, and Jesus has gone into hiding.

 

As they're gathered for supper in the upper room in Jerusalem, Jesus washes his disciples’ feet. Then, troubled in spirit, he predicts that one of those present will betray him. When Judas Iscariot departs, the disciples think that he’s gone out on an errand to buy something for the feast or perhaps something for the poor. It’s at this point that today’s Gospel reading begins: “when Judas had gone out, Jesus said, "Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him …”

 

Strangely enough, these words are a prediction of the Passion—since in John’s Gospel Jesus routinely refers to his coming death as his glorification. Then he adds: “Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, 'Where I am going, you cannot come.'” Once again, these words are spoken by one who’s to all outward appearances a defeated man, matter-of-factly anticipating his death the next day.

 

What’s remarkable in this context is what Jesus does not say. He does not behave as we might expect a defeated man to behave.

In the German film Downfall, released in 2004, the actor Bruno Ganz plays Adolf Hitler in his final days in the bunker deep under the Reich Chancellery in Berlin. As the Soviet forces smash their way into the city, Ganz delivers an epic tantrum blaming Germany’s defeat on its military commanders, the SS, the rank-and-file soldiers, and finally the German people themselves. Whatever its historical accuracy, Ganz’s performance is riveting not only because it channels an evil madman’s rage, but also because it exemplifies in extreme form the all-too typical behavior of defeated leaders: fault-finding, vindictiveness, recrimination, blame, self-pity, and self-exoneration.

 

At the Last Supper, we might expect a messianic figure like Jesus not only to voice disappointment or regret, but also to lash out at his disciples for their supposed disloyalty and cowardice or, conversely, perhaps to try to rally them with calls to avenge his death. But instead, Jesus speaks of love. At the moment of his apparent downfall, he commands his disciples to love one another as he’s loved them.

 

I give you a new commandment. Notice, first, that Jesus calls this saying a commandment: not a suggestion, recommendation, invitation, good advice, or exhortation, but a commandment. Here’s what you must do to continue as my disciples after I’m gone. But also notice that Jesus calls it a new commandment: something that the disciples presumably haven’t heard before. And that raises the question: In what sense is this commandment to love one another something new?

 

In the Old Testament, God gave Israel the commandment to “love your neighbor as yourself.” But our Lord’s commandment to love one another is new and unprecedented on account of the phrase: “Just as I have loved you.” To love our neighbors as ourselves, we need to be willing to do for them only whatever we hope they’d do for us in reversed circumstances. If I hope that you’d be willing to go grocery shopping for me when I’m quarantined at home, then I’d better be willing to do the same for you. It’s simple reciprocity.

 

But our Lord’s love surpasses that kind of love. For us, he dies on the cross. That’s not something we’d ever ask anyone to do for us. On the cross, Jesus offers up everything he is and everything he has, with no thought for himself. His love is self-sacrificial: love that literally dies to self for the sake of the beloved.

 

It’s this quality of self-denying love that he commands us to exhibit in our life together as Christians. This doesn’t necessarily mean that we’ll be called to suffer literal martyrdom – although in many parts of the world giving one’s life for Christ remains a very real possibility. But it does mean that life in the Church entails offering ourselves as servants of one another and putting the collective good of the community before our own individual good. In this way, we begin to learn to love one another as Christ has loved us.

 

We already see this quality of love exhibited in the life of this parish community. Here at Saints Matthew and Mark, I’ve been deeply moved by the ways in which parishioners reach out to express concern for one another in times of loss, and to lend a helping hand in time of need. One of the many blessings to me of the time I’ve spent with you so far is that it’s reminded me that something approximating genuine Christian community really still is possible in today’s Church.

 

And in today’s world, this quality of love is more important than ever. It requires a few basic commitments, beginning with simply being here: coming to worship faithfully on Sundays throughout the year unless for good cause prevented; and attending parish activities and events as we’re able. Such simple sacrifices are not always easy, not always convenient, and not always what we’d most rather be doing in the moment. But they school us by baby steps in the art of loving one another as Christ has loved us, so that the world may know that we’re his disciples. As we move into the future, let’s take every opportunity to keep on drawing closer to one another in love.