On Maundy Thursday, we see Jesus washing the feet of those who would scatter, those who would betray, those who were disillusioned and angry and bewildered. And Jesus, knowing full well the shifty, half-baked crew gathered in that room, still went out of his way to call them all friends. Every one of them.
Yes, Judas too. Maybe especially Judas. If we remember how aching love moves toward whoever’s most broken, if we remember how the shepherd leaves the 99 to go after the 1 — then yes, Judas. Especially Judas.
So there’s Jesus among all his friends who will soon break his heart. And Jesus bends low. The one who breathed life into their lungs, the one who was himself the burning heart of the universe, stooped, grabbed a towel, and washed.
Soon after when Judas offers that treasonous kiss, a knife deep in the back, it’s here (of all places) that Jesus specifically singles out Judas with this warm, impossible welcome. Jesus looks into Judas’ bloodshot eyes and (can you believe it?) again calls him friend.
And what is happening on the Cross on that Friday we call Good? It’s that monstrous, beautiful moment when Jesus looks out over each of us who’ve slid into the shadows or raised our fist in defiance or wilted in despair. Jesus spreads his arms wide, and in his final gasps, speaks his dying word: Friend.
Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. {John 15:13}