Did you ever notice that Jesus speaks about himself in the third person a lot? It’s most apparent when he talks about the Son of Man, as in this passage: “Now the Son of Man has been glorified,” he says, “and God has been glorified in him.” And of course, he himself is the Son of Man, he’s referring to himself. And the phrase is of enormous importance in the New Testament; Jesus uses it some 80 times; he only calls himself the Son of God, like, twice, and it’s in the same place.
But despite the apparent importance of “Son of Man,” nobody really knows what Jesusmeantby it, other than as a reference to himself. The debate among biblical scholars has been going on for almost 200 years: is it a Messianic title,an honorific like “Messiah” or indeed “Son of God?” Or is it descriptive, is Jesus calling himself just another human being, as in Son of Humanity, or perhaps thehuman being, the archetypical, modelhuman being?
In addition, nobody but Jesus—and several times, the author of a gospel, aka the narrator—callshim that. There’s no outside recognition that he is Son of man like there is regarding Son of God. After he walks on the water, the disciples don’t say “Truly you are the Son of Man,” nor do the demons exorcised from the Gadarenes shout “What have you to do with us, Son of Man?” They all call him “Son of God;” Son of Man is an entirely self-described . . . name. Or title. Or whatever it is.
But whatever it means, Jesus uses it in our present scene, which takes place at what would be called the Last Supper. And it’s kind of a transition between the scene with the foot-washing, and Peter’s reluctance to have his feet washed, and what scholars call the farewell discourse, Jesus’ last teaching before the crucifixion. And just before our passage Judas leaves the table to betray him to the religious authorities for, it is said, thirty pieces of silver. And right after our passage, Jesus foretells that Peter would betray Jesus, denying him not once, not twice, but three times.
So our passage is embedded in betrayal, it’s soaked in it . . . we cannot escape the fact that the commandment to love one another is forever colored by it . . . and when that first betrayer Judas goes to sell him out, Jesus says “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him.” Note the past perfect tense: the Son of Man has beenglorified, and God has beenglorified in him. It’s not, as is often assumed, the crucifixion, which was yet to come . . . was it the betrayal itself? The abandonment? Or was it, as some folks say, all that has come before, all the signs that point to Jesus’ character, and through him, that of God?
At its root, glorymeans reputation, and to be glorified means to acquire good reputation. When it refers to God,it takes on aspects of heavenly splendor and the wonders of God’s kingdom. So when Jesus refers to God’s glorification and his own, he’s referring to the manifestation and recognition by the world of their proper heavenly status. And how ironic isit that it is through betrayal and the cross that this occurs? Thus, Judas’ disappearance into night while plotting betrayal the anticipation of Peter’s denial are not unfortunate, extraneous additions to the story of Jesus’ glorification. Death and betrayal belong to the core of Jesus’ glory.
So it’s only fitting that after announcing his glory, Jesus immediately announces his departure. And such is his compassion for them that he tenderly calls them—grown men every one—“little children.” Where I’m going you cannot come, little chidden, and immediately they start to wonder where that might be: some far off land, perhaps, or another city? They’d steadfastly refused to listen when he’d told them about his arrest and execution, they must’ve thought he meant a physical place.
And in fact, Peter asking that question—Lord, where are you going?—leads to the prediction of his betrayal. But first, Jesus gives them one last command: Love one another, just as I have loved you, you should which has generated debate almost from the beginning. After all, Leviticus 19:18, part of the Hebrew Law, had alreadycommanded Israel to love its neighbor as itself; just exactly what was new?Was it a difference in kind,a different typeof love that Jesus commanded? Augustine thought so . . . another theologian, Cyril of Alexandria, said “no, it’s a difference in degree.” The law said love others as ourselves, Cyril said, but Jesus took it one notch further by telling us to love one another as he loved us.And being Jesus, his love was of coursemuch more intense love than ours . . .
Another, more practical problem is that the command is to love one another, that is, other believers.This conflicts with other versions—Matthew’, Mark’s and Luke’s say love your neighbor—and stories, like the Good Samaritan in Luke, not to mentionthe love-your-enemy passages. In those texts, Jesus is clearly speaking of, anddemonstrating,a love for those outside the “family,” a love beyond our own backyard.
Perhaps this is a hint as to what’s newin the command: this is a command—a plea,really—to practice love within themselves..Jesus is establishing a new communitywith this command, a community defined and centered around just one thing: love. In fact, it’s how everyone will know that this community is his,that those within it have love one for another.
Almost from the beginning, the church started to move away from that one criterion. The earliest creeds of the Church mention things you have to believe in, but rarely things you have to do. The Apostle’s Creed is the oldest one, put together from sayings in the Gospels and hymns of the early church. Does it mention love, a defining mark of the church community? No.
Over the years, entire listshave been drawn up of things you have to believe to be a Christian. The most famous recent examples are lists of five—or sometimes, six—essential Christian beliefs that circulated in the early 20th Century. These lists were called “fundamentals” and were, in fact, where the term “Fundamentalist Christian” came from. If you didn’t believe all the items on the list, you weren’t considered a Christian. Here’s one such list: the virgin birth, substitutionary atonement (that’s the notion that Jesus substituted for us to satisfy God’s wrath), the resurrection of the body, the miracles of Jesus, and the inerrant nature of God’s Word. Notice that not one of them mentions love at all, much less love thy neighbor or one another.
On the surface, Jesus’ instructions to love our fellow Christians—and our neighbors and our enemies—seem almost impossible. How can we love people who dismiss us, who oppose us, or simply rub us the wrong way? It seems that in any group, there are going to be folks we just don’t get along with, much less like. As always, Jesus shows us the way: what he’s talking about isn’t emotion, it’s action.In John, they’re called signs:changing the water into wine. Feeding the five thousand. Healing the man blind from birth. And here, in the last days of his life, washing one-another’s feet—aka servingone another—and, ultimately, dying for one another.
Maybe that’s why Christians have taken to measuringour Christian-ness via sets of dry, sterile beliefs. Maybe this loving one another business is just too hard—or in the case of foot-washing, too icky. But of course, that’s just another sign, a pointer to the kind of self-effacing, self-sacrificing action Jesus is talking about. And besides, we don’t have to do it by ourselves: Jesus is with us, around us and most importantly, within our hearts. Amen.
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