Sermon: Surely Not I
- Preacher:
- Paul Davies
- Date:
- Thursday 17th April 2025
- Venue:
- Guildford Cathedral
- Service:
- Eucharist of the Last Supper
John 13: 1-17; 31b - 35
Surely not I
I feel very blessed by the gift that we received from Durham, just a few months ago, in the form of a new Dean. He’s brought with him the rich Christian heritage of the North and the deep wisdom it has to teach us in the South about being disciples of Jesus. When I looked through the liturgy for this evening, however, I was a little disappointed. He’s left behind (at this stage anyway) a tradition unique to Durham Cathedral on Maundy Thursday. It’s called the Judas Cup Ceremony. It’s a ritual which was inaugurated by the monks there in the 14th century and which continues in our own day.
This evening, at the equivalent of this service in Durham, after the administration of Holy Communion and before the stripping of the cathedral of all its decoration, the Dean and Chapter (as the successors of the monastic community) gather around a table on which is placed a chalice filled with water. Etched into the silver of the chalice is the face of Judas. The Dean will address each canon with the words ‘one of you will betray me’ as each takes a sip from the cup and sees their face reflected in that of Judas. They then pass the cup on to the next canon with the words ‘surely, not I’?
Here in the soft south, we’ve not only kept clear of such an uncomfortable ceremony in our reenactment of the events of Maundy Thursday this evening, but we’ve cut it out of the script altogether. The reading from John Chapter 13, verses 1 – 35 omits verses 18 – 30 which is the bit that tells of Jesus predicting his betrayal by Judas. Let me be clear, I’m not blaming the Canon Liturgist – she’s just abiding by the lectionary – but there really is a question about why the liturgical powers that be in the Church of England have taken a scissors to this part of the story….
So I’m going to stick them back in… and read the missing verses which are crucial in understanding the significance of this evening.
13 18 “I am not referring to all of you; I know those I have chosen. But this is to fulfill this passage of Scripture: ‘He who shared my bread has turned against me.’19 “I am telling you now before it happens, so that when it does happen you will believe that I am who I am. 20 Very truly I tell you, whoever accepts anyone I send accepts me; and whoever accepts me accepts the one who sent me.” 21 After he had said this, Jesus was troubled in spirit and testified, “Very truly I tell you, one of you is going to betray me.” 22 His disciples stared at one another, at a loss to know which of them he meant. 23 One of them, the disciple whom Jesus loved, was reclining next to him. 24 Simon Peter motioned to this disciple and said, “Ask him which one he means.” 25 Leaning back against Jesus, he asked him, “Lord, who is it?” 26 Jesus answered, “It is the one to whom I will give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish.” Then, dipping the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot. 27 As soon as Judas took the bread, Satan entered into him. So Jesus told him, “What you are about to do, do quickly.” 28 But no one at the meal understood why Jesus said this to him. 29 Since Judas had charge of the money, some thought Jesus was telling him to buy what was needed for the festival, or to give something to the poor. 30 As soon as Judas had taken the bread, he went out. And it was night.
We can’t make sense of Maundy Thursday without these verses. And briefly (because whenever I see that word homily in the order of service as opposed to sermon I get the hint!) a few things strike me.
- I’m struck by the reality that all have sinned and fall short. There’s no doubt that Judas takes centre stage in this narrative. He’s the one we know whose betrayal feels like it’s on a different level. It’s cold and calculated. And it’s equipped and enabled by Satan himself. But he’s not in any way alone in falling short of loyalty to Jesus. When we read on, we discover that, like a pack of dominoes, Peter falls after him with his denial of Jesus, and he seems to bring down the rest of the pack as they all abandon our Lord as he approaches the cross. It’s easy to project all betrayal onto Judas. But St Augustine suggests that this ‘Judas-soul’ lies within each of us. Betrayal. Denial. Abandonment. We all need to look, metaphorically, into that Durham Mazar-cup tonight.
- I’m struck by a reminder that our self-awareness can be so unreliable. There’s an interesting incredibility amongst the disciples. Verse 22: ‘His disciples started at each other, at a loss as to which one he meant’. In other gospels we have that oft-used phrase echoed in the Durham liturgy ‘surely, not I?’. The disciples can’t seem to believe about themselves the things that they are hearing. There’s a wholesome teaching here about self-distrust. And it’s healthy that it’s had a bit of a breakthrough in consciousness in the Church of England over the last year. So many of us are wired to think that ‘we’d never really do any harm to anyone’ (I know that from doing hundreds of funeral visits) and the world would just be a much better place if everyone was like me. St Paul understood the need to be in touch with the great possibility of evil in his own heart. He articulates and wrestles with this reality in Romans 7. There’s a question here for each of us about who helps us to see this within ourselves. Who holds the mirror for us so that we can see into our blind spots? Who speaks the truth in love for us? Who holds us to account?
- And I’m struck that the one whom we constantly betray never betrays us. In this short passage in which Jesus predicts his betrayal, the word bread appears five times. It’s a powerful reminder that those around this meal were close companions of Jesus. The word companion comes from an old French word which literally means ‘one who breaks bread with another’. The fulfilled scripture which John refers to is from Psalm 41(v9) which expresses the deep hurt of betrayal by a companion ‘even my close friend, someone I trusted, one who shared my bread, has turned against me’. And yet, the remarkable thing is that Jesus doesn’t stop sharing bread with them. Indeed, in an act of remarkable love and mercy, he dips the bread and hands it to his betrayer. And he does the same for us this evening. He puts into our hands the bread, his very own body, knowing that we will go from this place tonight, like Judas and Peter and all the disciples, to fall short in betrayal, in denial and in abandonment. And yet he still feeds us and goes on feeding us.
And so as we focus at this Last Supper, in word and deed, on the Messiah who washed the feet of his disciples (and how lovely that the King and Queen were in Durham today to distribute the Maundy money – for the first time in 60 years there – a ceremony which recalls Jesus washing feet) let’s not forget the other ceremony taking place in Durham which recalls the darker part of today’s story – in which you and I are complicit. Let’s dare to look into that Mazar cup and see the face of Judas looking back at us. Let’s also dare, through the lens of those we trust - speaking the truth in love - to glimpse those parts of ourselves which we fail to see. And in so doing, fed by the Bread of Heaven and strengthened by the Holy Spirit, lets pray that we may stay awake in Gethsemane – at least for a while
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- to embrace with every sinew in our being the mandatum novum (from which this day gets its name)
- the new commandment - to love Jesus and one another as He has loved us.
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+Paul Dorking | Guildford Cathedral 17 April 2025