Now we are on the other side of Easter. Remember, Easter was not the glorious event for the disciples that it was for us. The trumpets did not sound. Easter lilies and spring flowers did not announce new life in their midst. Unexpectedly, momentarily, they saw Jesus alive and then very quickly he was gone. It had to have been a very uncertain place to be. What happens now? I imagine the disciples were tempted to go back to where they were. They were tempted to go back to who they were. They were tempted to go back to what they were.
I read a meditation during Holy Week that has stuck with me. It keeps challenging my heart and mind. Mary Luti, a longtime seminary educator and pastor writes: “A new command I give you: Love one another as I have loved you…” (John 13:34) It was on the night he was betrayed that Jesus gave us the love commandment. In fact, it was right after his betrayer, flush with silver, left the table and slipped away into the night. Scripture says that Jesus knew where Judas was going. It’s a safe bet the others did, too. Frederick Niedner once wondered whether, after hearing that commandment about the way they should love each other, any of the disciples got up and went after Judas. ‘Did anyone fear for him, miss him, or try, even after he brought soldiers to Gethsemene, to bring him back and talk him out of his shame, his anger, his rapidly deepening hell?’
Did anyone try to love him as Jesus did? Tradition has consigned Judas to a gruesome death and the deepest circle of hell, so my guess would be no. Which means that the church—that’s you and me—hasn’t yet learned the first thing about the love commandment. Or about our own pain. For we all have at least one Judas missing from our tables, out there in the night, unforgiven and alone. And each of us may be a Judas for someone else, absent from someone else’s feast. Maybe when we sit together at the church’s Table to share bread and cup, we should add a chair. And leave it empty, an aching absence. Maybe the sight of that absence would shame us into the world to look high and low for Judas, and to keep looking until all our Judases come home.”
The commandment to love is demanding. How often do we try to make it easy by loving the lovable rather than seeking out those who really push us and make our blood boil? How often have we chosen to continue sitting at the table while a family member leaves in anger out the door instead of getting up and going after them? Who is missing from your table and how do you deal with the aching absence? Who are you wishing would come home? Have you ever been the outcast of the family, the one absent from the feast? Have you ever felt beyond the reach of forgiveness? As a society, who do we leave behind and never go back for? How will you take seriously the love commandment this side of Easter?