Homily for Tuesday in Holy Week

preached by The Vicar, Fr Christopher Woods

John 13:21–33, 36–38

“And it was night.”

John’s Gospel is full of light and dark—

Not just as physical descriptions, but as indicators of the human spirit.

And in tonight’s Gospel, we are told something chilling and ordinary all at once:

Judas leaves the supper table to betray Jesus…

“And it was night.”

It’s more than just a time of day. It’s a description of the human condition.

The night has begun. The shadows have deepened. The betrayal is set in motion.

Jesus is at supper with his disciples -

people he has loved, taught, walked with.

He has just washed their feet.

He has spoken of love and humility.

And yet, right in the middle of this scene of yet more intimacy,

one of them slips into the darkness.

One of them walks away from the gift of love.

And another—Peter—makes grand promises he cannot keep.

“Lord, I will lay down my life for you,” Peter says.

But Jesus sees through it.

“Will you? Truly?”

“Before the cock crows, you will have denied me three times.”

This is not a story about bad people out there.

It is a stark reminder that in all of us there is a potential Judas, and quite often a Peter.

Judas betrays. Peter denies.

And both of them do so not out of pure evil, but out of fear, confusion, disillusionment. They are recognisably human.

And that’s what makes this gospel reading so unsettling.

Not because we plan betrayal—

but because we, too, have known what it is to fail under pressure, to say the wrong thing, to speak before thinking, to be silent when we should have spoken,

to hide when we should have stood up.

Yet in the middle of all of this, Jesus says something astonishing:

“Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him.”

Now?

Now, when betrayal is unfolding?

When denial is foretold?

When the darkness is pressing in?

Yes—now.

Because Jesus does not wait for things to be tidy before revealing God’s glory.

God’s glory is not revealed in power or perfection—

but in brokenness, in vulnerability, in love that does not waver even when it is rejected.

This moment—this dim, chaotic, painful moment—

is the moment of glory.

Because love is never more radiant than when it persists through pain.

Jesus does not lash out at Judas. He does not shame Peter. He grieves, but he does not hate. He continues to love them to the end.

St Cyril of Alexandria, writing on this passage, noted that “Jesus is troubled in spirit not because he fears death, but because he grieves for the disciple who is falling into the pit.”

Jesus is not naive. He knows what Judas is about to do. Almost tells him to do it.

He knows the cost of love, and yet still he shares bread with him.

We often confuse justice with retribution,

But Jesus offers a different kind of justice: mercy.

He gives the morsel of bread even to the one who will betray him.

He offers dignity even to the one who will deny him. There is no hatred in him, only heartbreak.

Jesus knows what’s in the heart of Peter. He knows the schemes of Judas. He knows what’s in our hearts too— and he still offers us the bread at the altar.

Jesus says to us: Don’t be afraid of the night.

Don’t be afraid of your weakness.

Don’t imagine that God’s love depends on your success or your strength.

So let the night come.

Not because we welcome it,

but because Christ is not afraid of it.

And the dawn—the Resurrection—will come

not because we have done anything to deserve it,

but because God love us.

Amen.