Prepared for Betrayal: Homily for Holy Thursday

Mass of the Lord’s Supper                                                                             April 6, 2023
Fr. Alexander Albert                                                              St. John the Evangelist, Jeanerette

Part II here

Part III here

Betrayal is the second worst thing there is. What makes it so awful is that it takes what is good – trust, love, vulnerability – and hurts the one who offers them. I have rarely experienced in myself or others anger and pain greater than what comes from being or just thinking you’ve been betrayed. Betrayal is close to the very definition of evil.

Yet, it is precisely in betrayal that our all-powerful, loving God most reveals his power and his love. It is my custom for the Triduum to preach a series of homilies on a common theme, to connect Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday in exploring a single overarching idea. This year, that theme is betrayal. Holy Thursday – tonight – shows us what one does before being betrayed… how to prepare for it. Good Friday – tomorrow – will show us what is to be done in the midst of betrayal. Easter will reveal to us what comes after the betrayal and give us the confidence to face what is all but inevitable in this broken world of ours.

Since we know that betrayal is so likely, how do we prepare? As you might expect, by imitating Jesus here at the last supper. As God, he always knew Judas was going to betray him. As man, however, he lived and acted as though he did not. We do not know exactly when his divine knowledge of this also became his human knowledge, but he definitely knew by the time of this Last Supper.

And what did he do about it? He washed his feet like he washed the feet of every disciple… the feet of Peter who would deny him, the feet of the other 10 who would flee in the garden with Peter, the feet of those who won’t even come back in time to witness the crucifixion that Jesus told them was going to happen.

We too have been told what is going to happen. Not the exact details, but we do know that betrayal is a part of this life. The fact of Original Sin and the history of humanity tell us this. Jesus tells all of his followers that even mothers, fathers, and siblings may hand us over to death if we follow him. We’ve been warned about betrayal.

And yet, just like the Apostles who flee in the garden and are absent from the cross, there’s a part of us that wants to simply avoid the pain we know must come. For us, this often takes the form of doing whatever we can to avoid being betrayed. Yes, maintaining boundaries, vetting people before we trust them, and paying attention to warnings are all good and prudent measures to minimize the chance of betrayal. The very definition of betrayal, however, is when someone who passes these tests then changes after we’ve trusted them and so breaks a trust that, at first, they never intended to break.

This leads us to the crux of the matter; If we would avoid all betrayal, the only way is to avoid all trust, to refrain from loving, to hide all vulnerabilities. Betrayal is so awful that, once we’ve experienced it, we might be tempted to justify even the most extreme measures to avoid it. To be good means to avoid evil, so surely it is good to avoid the evil of betrayal, right?

Except that is not what Jesus does. And even before we come to his divine example, we can see with merely human wisdom that a life without trust, love, or vulnerability is not really a fulfilling life. Human beings need love and love requires trust and vulnerability. Without these things, human beings get… well, weird… and not in a good, quirky, fun kind of way. They might fixate on things. They might isolate and lose touch with reality as if they can no longer actually understand what’s going on around them. Or they might become unbearably mean. Or incorrigibly flighty and unreliable… as if they are never really present. Human beings without love and trust might be safe from betrayal, but only at the cost of being “safe” from ever really living in the first place.

So we see Jesus, perfectly human as well as divine, take that risk. He entrusts himself to these men, not only investing immense time and emotional energy into them, but telling them things that could be used against him. How many times did we see him say “tell no one of this…?” How many times do people flatly ignore him? Yet he continues to make himself vulnerable to the loose lips and shortsighted ambition of men he knew weren’t going to keep his confidence. We might be tempted to think that the twelve were different because, until now, they at least hadn’t broken his confidence. But we are told here that “he knew who would betray him.”

He not only allows Judas to retain his access to their plans – Judas knew they were going to the garden later – he actually kneels down before this Judas in a profound act of humble, vulnerable, loving service. Since Jesus does nothing without his Father, we know that God himself is doing more than merely removing grime from the soles of feet. Indeed, this moment has long been seen as a metaphor for that sacrament that most closely resembles the bath of Baptism: Reconciliation. Just as Baptism means we’ve been “bathed” and made “clean all over” through the removal original sin, so reconciliation is the removal of grime from the souls of men who’ve sinned since their rebirth. As Jesus tells us, those who refuse this further washing “will have no inheritance with me.” Thus, we would be foolish to not avail ourselves of this renewed washing as often as we find the grime of new sin upon our souls.

Think of what this must mean for Judas. Jesus has already trusted him and knows he plans to betray him. Yet, this knowledge is by divine power. And just as he did in his Incarnation, Jesus veils his divine power, humbling himself to live and act and be as another human being among us. Embracing that limitation, he models for us how the merely human disciple ought to act. He continues to trust, to love, and to extend even before it happens, the offer of forgiveness and reconciliation. As both God and Man, Jesus earnestly longs to forgive Judas, so he offers that forgiveness in this washing… wanting Judas to one day be able to look back on this prevenient offer, repent, and be restored.

If Jesus can continue to trust, love, and be vulnerable even while he knows he’s being betrayed, how much more ought we to take the risk of trust and love when we don’t know for sure we’re going to be betrayed. Yes, in a specific instance, if you know someone is not trustworthy, you should not trust them. The Church has always taught that we don’t go looking for martyrdom. But Jesus in his omniscience and omnipotence waives his right to protect himself so as to go above and beyond in showing us how we ought to act in our limitations.

So, how do we prepare for betrayal? We accept that it will happen, but still take the risk of trusting people. We not only take the risk, but we strive to earnestly love the people who will do it. We not only strive to love them, but prepare to forgive them even before they do it. That serves as a great definition of loving commitment: to give someone the ability to hurt you and to be prepared to forgive them when they do.

The effectiveness of that forgiveness will ultimately depend on their acceptance – something we cannot force and cannot count on just as Jesus would not force Judas. Still more, we, unlike Jesus, don’t know ahead of time who will be our betrayer. The implication should be obvious: we are to prepare ourselves to love and forgive everyone we meet. Why? Because Jesus has done so for us and He tells us in this most sacred of moments, “as I have done for you, you should also do.”