Jesus, Our Brother

A bowl, an apron or a towel, and some water. All this, and Jesus the rabbi kneeling before the disciples—before us. It is a deeply human gesture of daily life; the traditional way to welcome a guest or a pilgrim. But today, it is God kneeling before the Twelve, before us. Love itself is kneeling before us. Jesus takes the lowest place and shows us who God is, and who his Father is. The Gospel says that Jesus loves “to the end,” to the extreme—this eschatological event. The text notes that Jesus took off his garment and later put it back on; this is a reminiscence of Jesus’ affirmation: “I lay down my life to take it up again.” 

“Do you understand what I am doing?” Jesus asks. 

No, we cannot fully understand the foolishness of this love poured out before us, like the water of life poured into the bowl. We resist this “Poor Christ” and find it hard to follow him, poor as we are. Yet, this is at the core of our Cistercian tradition: to follow the poor Christ. More than mere imitation, it is a sharing of life—lifting our lives with him and taking up our cross to follow him. 
Jesus waits before each of us for our free “yes” to accept his love, to welcome it, to consent to it, and finally to receive and share it. This is our God. Are we ready to consent to being loved and to return that love?

 
Kneeling before us, Jesus shows us that he is our brother. In RB 58:23, the newcomer becomes a brother or sister when they receive the habit. This happens in a context of prayer: all pray for them. Jesus is our brother, as the Epistle to the Hebrews says (2:11): “He is not ashamed to call them brothers.” Jesus makes us brothers and sisters as he washes the feet and the hearts of everyone gathered around him, without distinction: even the one who will betray him, the one who will deny him, and the ones who will abandon him, running to escape death. We carry all of this within us—this capacity for betrayal, for refusing new life, and for abandoning the path of obedience and love. 
Are we ready to take this path? To abandon all bitterness, self-absorption, and resistance to what life asks of us each day? Only the awareness of Jesus pouring out his love while kneeling before me can help transform negative attitudes and thoughts. It is difficult for us to imagine such lavish love; it is, however, the core of our life, our calling, and our communion—both here in community and in the wider world. 

“As I have done for you, do the same,” Jesus continues. 

How? It is expressed in the hidden, small gestures of our community life. Our community is called an ecclesiola, a small Church. The Church starts here: before this kneeling God pouring his love into us, and in our consent to be loved and to share the love we have received. It manifests in small acts of service; it needs only a bowl, an apron, and some water. We understand then why St. Benedict asks us to treat the tools of the monastery as sacred vessels; our lives are sacred, as are our relationships and the work our hands perform every day. “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (Jn 15:13). 

Jesus put his garment back on; he takes up his life again. He, the Risen One, has made us his friends and shares his new life with us. Let us offer him our gratitude and love as he “makes all things new” (Rev 21:5).