The Wronging Of Otters

Holy Week has gone, but all the best reflections on Holy Week happen in its wake.

And the big question I've asked myself is, when Jesus was washing his disciples' feet (literally by the dozen), where in the line was Judas Iscariot?

Not Judas but Peter.

You see, Judas knew what he was about to do in betraying Jesus.  And Jesus knew what Judas was about to do in betraying him.  And Jesus, secure in his identity as beloved of God, gets on down and washes some feet.  You can't be demeaned if you're secure in who you are.

And while Peter is either refusing any water at all or insisting on a top-to-toe scrub down, what is Judas doing?  Is he (a) squirming at letting Jesus wash his feet in the light or shadow of his intended betrayal; (b) hard-faced so that he doesn't give a clue of his underhanded plan; or (d) actually entirely clueless that he should be feeling anything at all?

(I know, there's no © because i can't type it without Apple copywriting it)

I wouldn't rule out (d): being entirely ignorant that he's doing anything wrong and that there's so much irony and grace and being poured onto him like water that he should run screaming or cave in and confess.  The disciples I've known who've performed acts of betrayal have all been blissfully and probably quite self-righteously assured of the utter rightness of their actions.

But frankly, I don't much care.  What fascinates me - as someone who's been wronged on occasion and who's wronged others* - is that it is implied that Jesus made no differentiation in washing the feet of Judas Iscariot.  There would have been no increase in rough handling.  No skimping.  No corners cut or ankles twisted.  Had it been me, I wonder whether I'd've somehow splashed his face a bit more, accidentally dropped the sponge in his lap, or more probably said, "Looking a bit stressed there, Judas, something on your mind?" before giving his ankle a savage wrench and knocking him to the floor.  "Whoops, sorry mate…"

Jesus was human as well as God, and the temptation was there, the temptation to narrow his eyes and to hate Judas while the washing went ahead ("If anyone's feet want nailing to a cross it's these!").  And the gritting of teeth may well have been there, as a way of acknowledging the toughness of the temptation and the effort it takes to love your enemies.  Especially your frenemies.  

The likelihood is that the only way you could tell that Jesus was washing his betrayer's feet might have been that a little salt water might have mixed with the fresh as Jesus grieved.  And even then you can blame it on splashes from the basin.  "Jesus has something in his eye… must be some grit from between Judas's toes…"

If indeed Jesus looked.  He may have needed to keep his eyes down and intentionally not spot whose feet he was immersing and immersed in at any given moment.  But I suspect not.  Breaking eye contact isn't an especially Christ-like thing, and far be it, I imagine, from Jesus to let feet be anonymous, especially to one who knows us by name and the hairs on our head.  And of course Judas would have had shifty, guilty feet that had no rhythm (sorry).

So when Judas came along, second to get it over with, twelfth because he was trying to put the moment off, or seventh because that's the most inconspicuous place in the queue, there's no way of telling that Jesus knows.  No tugging, no twisting no too-vigorous towelling.  The moment passes.  A lifeline has been offered, and a lifeline has been refused.

But this is a massive lesson in loving your enemy.  Would I pass it?  Would you?  With people who've wronged me, I'm of the school that prefers fleeing the temptation to push them into the Manchester Ship Canal (figurative, not a real threat) and means I'll give them a wide berth: the best I can do.  How about you?  If your Judas came your way, could you wash those feet?

It's an unfair question, I know.  Some Judases are so ignorant that that they need telling before washing.  Your Judas may well have beaten you, assailed you, violated you.  I don't believe Jesus ushers us back into reliving terrible things.  Jesus was remarkable.

And yes, some days it's a success simply not to mumble and grumble in memory of the ills done to us.  Well done!  But when things are unavoidable, Jesus shows that grace is possible… that grace is available… and that grace doesn't always win over your enemy, but is worth pouring out for them nonetheless.

Keep yourselves safe out there, won't you?




*also… when I was typing that I was someone who has wronged others, I managed a near-fatal mistype and was almost on the point of publication when I realised I'd typed that I had "wronged otters."

I have never wronged an otter (yet) but if I did, I imagine those wronged otters would look something like this:

And there you have it.