“And it was Night”

There is a peculiar darkness with a heavy atmosphere at the heart of John 13. Jesus and his disciples gather for what will be their last meal together, and already the shadow of betrayal hangs over the table. John makes no effort to soften it: “The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him” (13:2). By verse 27, we read that “Satan entered into him,” and readers understand that Judas becomes the vehicle of something fundamentally opposed to Jesus and to the community gathered around him.

And yet, crucially, Jesus is not surprised. John tells us that Jesus is not a victim of circumstances. “I know whom I have chosen,” Jesus says (13:18). He acts, he moves, he washes feet. When Judas departs into the night, Jesus does not waver from his path towards the cross. For the Johannine Jesus, the cross is not defeat but glory. “Now the Son of Man has been glorified,” Jesus declares the moment Judas leaves (13:31). In John’s Gospel, glory is not an abstract kind of shining radiance but the revelation of God’s true character, in which Jesus is enthroned. In this sense, Jesus’ suffering is also his coronation. This darkness that closes around him is, paradoxically, the moment his light shines most clearly.

A Community Facing an Uncertain Future

With Judas gone, Jesus turns to those who remain. But his words are not simply comforting, they are also honest about the road ahead. “Where I am going, you cannot come” (13:33). The disciples will continue living without his physical presence. In the chapters that follow, Jesus is transparent about the hardship awaiting them: the world will hate them (15:18), they will face grief (16:20), and they will be scattered (16:32). The Jesus-following community will be under pressure. How, then, does a community of faith survive and hold together when the ground shifts beneath it? What will prevent them from scattering into the night like Judas?

Jesus’ answer is the new commandment: “Love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another” (13:34). Jesus gives his followers a survival strategy that is also a mark of identity. It is important to note what kind of love this is. It is not simply a warm, affectionate feeling toward fellow believers. The standard Jesus sets is his own — the love that kneels to wash dirty feet, the love that lays down its life. This is love as a practice, a discipline, a shape of life together.

And remarkably, this love is also a witness to the world. “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples” (13:35). The Jesus community does not primarily commend itself to the world through impressive programs or building size, but commends itself through the visible quality of its life together, through the way its members regard, serve, and sacrifice for one another. Communal love is thus not just a support structure but is itself a form of proclamation.

In many Asian contexts, we understand instinctively that community is not optional, but it is survival. The fabric of mutual care and shared responsibility has long held families and neighbourhoods together through hardship. Yet the commandment Jesus gives pushes us further. The benchmark is no longer “love your neighbour as yourself,” but “love as I have loved you.” It is the very architecture of how the church community holds together and continues. When the community loves as Jesus loved, with constancy, with sacrifice, with a refusal to abandon one another, it becomes the kind of place where people can weather uncertainty without being broken by it. The community that practices it finds in the very practice the resilience to endure, as well as the identity to persist in troubling times.

Not Betrayers, But Bearers

Judas walks out into the night (13:30). He chooses isolation and ultimately destruction over belonging. We need to be aware that in a small but real way, acts of contempt, indifference, or self-interest within the community of faith can perhaps be a step in that direction. We can act betrayingly perhaps not by dramatic apostasy like Judas but the quiet daily choice to withhold love from those beside us.

This Holy Week, as we draw closer to the cross, we are invited to ask: what kind of presence are we in our community? In our context, where words are often cheap and trust is fragile, are we the kind of people whose love makes the community more whole, more visible, and more resilient to challenges? The disciples who remain in that upper room, perhaps confused, afraid, not yet fully understanding, are nonetheless there. They stay and remain. And from that staying together in the midst of darkness to develop genuine solidarity, the resilient community of Jesus-followers is born.

May we, in these days before Easter, recommit ourselves to one another with the love we have received from Christ. May our communities become the kind of place where people on the outside look in and recognize, even without fully understanding why, that something of Jesus is alive here.

For reflection:

1. Are there relationships within your church or fellowship where you have withheld love? What would it look like to offer it this week?
2. How does belonging to a loving community strengthen your own faith and resilience in uncertain times?

Prayer:

Lord Jesus, you loved us to the end. As we walk with you through this Holy Week, give us the courage to stay — to remain in community, to lay down our self-interest, and to love as you have loved us. Where betrayal has wounded us, bring healing. Where fear has closed us off, bring openness. May our life together, however imperfect, be a sign of your presence in the world. Amen.

Edward Wong (PhD, University of Edinburgh) is Assistant Professor of Biblical Studies at China Graduate School of Theology. His research focuses on trauma theory and the Gospels to explore how experiences of conflict and marginalization influence the production of biblical texts and their reception histories. Dr. Wong is also an ordained minister with the Evangelical Free Church of Canada (EFCC).