A Life of St. John for the Young

by George Ludington Weed

This was the service of a common slave. It is easy to imagine the silent astonishment of the disciples. The purpose of Jesus could not be mistaken. It was a reproof for their contention. The object lesson was ended. John continued to closely watch His movements, as he took the garments He had laid aside and resumed His seat at the table. The very towel with which the Lord had girded Himself, found a lasting place in John's memory, worthy of mention as the instrument of humble service. What a sacred relic, if preserved, it would have become—more worthy of a place in St. Peter's in Rome than the pretended handkerchief of Veronica.

The Last Supper—Benjamin West
[Page 158]

Christ's treatment of one of the disciples at the feet-washing left a deep impression on John's mind. With sadness and indefiniteness the Lord said, "He that eateth My bread lifted up his heel against Me": one who accepts My hospitality and partakes of the proofs of My friendship is My enemy. For that one whoever it might be, known only to himself and to Jesus, it was a most solemn call to even yet turn from his evil purpose. But the faithless one betrayed no sign; nor did Jesus betray him even with a glance which would have been a revelation to John's observant eye.

It is John who tells us that as they sat at the table "Jesus ... was troubled in spirit." The apostle closest to Him in position and sympathy would be the first to detect that special trouble, and the greatness of it, even before the cause of it was known. But that was not long. "Jesus said, Verily, verily, I say unto you that one of you shall betray Me." Such is John's record of Christ's declaration. It is in His Gospel alone that we find the double "Verily" introducing Christ's words, thus giving a deeper emphasis and solemnity than appears in the other Evangelists. A comparison of this declaration of Christ as given by the four, illustrates this fact. John immediately follows this statement of the betrayal with another, peculiar to himself. Its shows his close observation at the time, and the permanence of his impression. What he noticed would furnish a grand subject for the most skilful artist, beneath whose picture might be written, "The disciples looked one on another, doubting of whom He spake." As John gazed upon them, raising themselves on their divans, looking first one way, then another, from one familiar face to another, exchanging glances of inquiry and doubt, each distrustful of himself and his fellow, he beheld what angels might have looked upon with even deeper interest. There has been no other occasion, nor can there be, for such facial expressions—a blending of surprise, consternation, fear and sorrow. Was John one of those who "began to question among themselves which of them it was that should do this thing"? Did he take his turn as "one by one" they "began to say, ... Is it I, Lord?" If so it must have been in the faintest whisper; and so the blessed answer, "No." But we must believe that Jesus and John understood each other too well for any such question and answer. The definite answer was not yet given to any one by the Master, yet with an awful warning, He repeated His prediction of the betrayal.

Peter was impatient to ask Jesus another question. At other times he was bold to speak, but now he was awed into silence. Yet he felt that he must know. The great secret must be revealed. There was one through whom it might possibly be done. So while the disciples looked one on another, Peter gazed on John with an earnest, inquiring look, feeling that the beloved disciple might relieve the awful suspense. "Peter therefore beckoneth to him, and saith unto him, Tell us who it is of whom He speaketh." So "He, leaning back, as he was, on Jesus' breast, saith unto Him, Lord, who is it? Jesus therefore answereth, He it is for whom I shall dip the sop and give it him." Did John on one side of Jesus hear the whispered question of Judas on the other, "Is it I, Rabbi?" He watched for the sign which Jesus said He would give. The morsel was given to Judas. That was more than a sign, more than kindness to an unworthy guest; it was the last of thousands of loving acts to one whom Jesus had chosen, taught and warned—yet was a traitor. Of that moment John makes special note. Having told us that at the beginning of the supper "the devil ... put into the heart of Judas ... to betray," he says, "After the sop, Satan entered into him." As he saw Judas, with a heart of stone and without a trembling hand, coolly take the morsel from that hand of love, he realized that the evil one had indeed taken possession of him whose heart he had stirred at the feast of Bethany.

It must have been a relief to John when he heard the Lord bid Judas depart, though "no man at the table knew for what intent."

"He then having received the sop went out straightway,"—out from that most consecrated room; out from the companionship of the Apostles in which he had proved himself unfit to share; out from the most hallowed associations of earth; out from the most inspiring influences with which man was ever blessed; out from the teachings, warnings, invitations and loving care of his only Saviour. "When Satan entered into him, he went out from the presence of Christ, as Cain went out from the presence of the Lord." As John spoke of the departure, no wonder he added, "It was night." His words mean to us more than the darkness outside that room illumined by the lamp which Peter and John had lighted. They are suggestive of the darkness of the traitor's soul, contrasted with the "Light of the World" in that room, to whose blessed beams he then closed his eyes forever. Night—the darkest night—was the most fitting symbol for the deeds to follow. Possessed by Satan, Judas went out to be "guide to them that took Jesus." To them, two hours later, He who was the Light of the World said, "This is your hour and the power of darkness."

It was when "he was gone out" that Christ called the disciples by a new name, and gave them a new commandment. In both of them John took a special interest which he showed long after. That name was "Little Children." The word which Christ used had a peculiar meaning. This is the only time we know of His ever using it. It was an expression of the tenderest affection for His family, so soon to be orphaned by His death. When John wrote his Epistles, he often used the same word, whose special meaning he had learned from his Lord, to show his own love for his fellow-Christians.