"The sun shines hot on the city gate, and you feel the air move with the palm branches. You hear the hearts pumping in their chests. Their mouths cry “save us” while their hearts cry “give us what we want.” But because you are God you hear even deeper in the spirits of men and women and even children the silence of our profound loneliness. You hear the trickle of need we scarcely know ourselves.
You come to us though you know we’re praying to you for the wrong reasons, singing to you without the faintest notion of how powerful and just and holy you really are.
And yet, you come...
Judas saw the wonders you did, the authority with which you taught, and heard you declare yourself the son of God more than once. He had no excuse. It was clear to those in your company that you were made of a goodness that rendered betrayal unthinkable.
But Judas, whatever his reasons, did the unthinkable.
And he did it with such irony. With a kiss. You had washed his feet only hours ago. I wonder what went through his mind as he sat there uncomfortable and appalled at your outrageous demonstration of love and service?
You knew he would betray you. You knew he was the guilty one, and still you took his filthy feet in your hands and washed them in the basin. You patted them dry with the towel around your waist.
Love your enemies, you had told them. And, kneeling before the betrayer, you showed them how."
