"The Good News Is...Even Judas Gets His Feet Washed" (April 2, 2026 Sermon)

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The Good News Is...Even Judas Gets His Feet Washed

Rev. Stephen M. Fearing

Guilford Park Presbyterian Church

Combined Maundy Thursday Service with Fellowship Presbyterian Church

Thursday, April 2, 2026

Text: John 13:1-35

Scripture Reading

Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already decided that Judas son of Simon Iscariot would betray Jesus. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from supper, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, "Lord, are you going to wash my feet?" Jesus answered, "You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand." Peter said to him, "You will never wash my feet." Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no share with me." Simon Peter said to him, "Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!" Jesus said to him, "One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you." For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, "Not all of you are clean."

After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had reclined again, he said to them, "Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, slaves are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them. I am not speaking of all of you; I know whom I have chosen. But it is to fulfill the scripture, 'The one who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me.' I tell you this now, before it occurs, so that when it does occur you may believe that I am he. Very truly, I tell you, whoever receives one whom I send receives me, and whoever receives me receives him who sent me."

After saying this Jesus was troubled in spirit and declared, "Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me." The disciples looked at one another, uncertain of whom he was speaking. One of his disciples—the one whom Jesus loved—was reclining close to his heart; Simon Peter therefore motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. So while reclining next to Jesus, he asked him, "Lord, who is it?" Jesus answered, "It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish." So when he had dipped the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas son of Simon Iscariot. After he received the piece of bread, Satan entered into him. Jesus said to him, "Do quickly what you are going to do." Now no one knew why he said this to him. Some thought that, because Judas had the common purse, Jesus was telling him, "Buy what we need for the festival," or that he should give something to the poor. So, after receiving the piece of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night.

When he had gone out, Jesus said, "Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me, and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, 'Where I am going, you cannot come.' I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

The Scandal of Grace

I don't know how to live in a world where Judas gets his feet washed, too. That world doesn't make sense to me. It's a decidedly inconvenient scandal that just rubs me the wrong way. Because Judas deserves to be canceled. He deserves condemnation. He deserves the scorn we've thrown at him these past two thousand years. Or does he? Nearly twenty-two years ago, Guilford Park's own Tim Peck preached a sermon questioning Judas' exclusion from the twelve stained-glass windows that decorate the front of our sanctuary. He's been stripped of his discipleship credentials, Tim noted, replaced by Paul as the twelfth disciple.

But then Tim reminds us that one scandal replaces another. We pat ourselves on the back for relegating Judas to his rightful place in history's penalty box. But in his place, we lift up another who did no less harm to the very man he would later proclaim. And round and round we go, preferring hands full of stones to hands outstretched and open to the scandal of grace. I don't know how to live in a world where Judas gets his feet washed, too... but I want to.

Seeing Judas in Ourselves

I want to because I see more of Judas inside me than I care to admit. In Judas, I see the part of me that is sick and tired of the wicked prospering while the righteous wane and wither. In Judas, I see the part of me that is impatient with Jesus' non-coercive way of changing the world. In Judas, I see the part of me that loves as long as loving pays off. In Judas, I see the part of me that would rather explain people than love them, condemn them rather than pray for them, and reduce them to their worst act while asking everyone else not to do the same to me.

I want to know how to live in a world where Judas gets his feet washed, too, because like him, I need Jesus to kneel before the worst parts of me without turning away. I need the basin. I need the towel. I need a mercy I did not earn and cannot control.

I hope that this evening we can hold Judas and his actions uncomfortably close to us. Because it's easy to villainize him and, in so doing, stay at a safe distance ourselves. But Jesus doesn't keep his distance from Judas; neither should we. Jesus kneels before Judas, fully aware of what he is about to do. Jesus kneels before Judas and lovingly washes his dirty feet. Jesus kneels before Judas, our brother, whose kinship with us is closer than we often realize.

Mercy That Unsettles Us

Or perhaps it's not Judas and his actions that unsettle us. Perhaps it's Jesus and his actions that do. In a culture that mistakes mercy for weakness and gentleness for surrender, what Jesus does here seems…absurd. He kneels before the one who will betray him. He does not shame him. He does not humiliate him. He does not crush him. He loves him. And to people like us, schooled in vengeance and baptized in scorekeeping, that kind of mercy feels not beautiful, but foolish.

A Broadway Parable of Grace

Many of y'all know I love a good Broadway metaphor in my sermons! In the musical Les Misérables, the French guard Javert lives a life of strict legalism. In his view, mercy threatens justice. After his former prison inmate, Jean Valjean, is released after serving 19 years of hard labor for stealing a loaf of bread, Javert makes it his mission to hunt him down and return him to prison once he breaks his parole. For most of the play, the two play a cat-and-mouse game, with the protagonist eluding Javert's grasp. Then, famously, in a twist of fate, the tables turn, and Jean Valjean gains the upper hand, finding himself in a position where he could end everything by taking Javert's life. But he famously raises his pistol, fires a shot into the sky, and spares Javert's life. The prison guard then faces a moral crisis. His whole life, he's believed in moral absolutes: criminals are bad, the law is good, and justice means strict enforcement. But Jean Valjean's mercy disrupts everything. Javert doesn't know what to do with grace. He doesn't know how to live in a world where his feet get washed, too. He sings these words in despair and disgust: "All it would take was a flick of his knife / Vengeance was his and he gave me back my life / Damned if I'll live in the debt of a thief / Damned if I'll yield at the end of the chase." As he finishes his lament, he takes his own life by jumping off a bridge.

A Step Away from Retribution

As a nation right now, we stand with Javert on the edge of a bridge, just before the fall. We can choose to keep repeating endless cycles of retribution, or we can step back from the edge and move toward something else: the kingdom Jesus proclaims, where mercy reigns. To be sure, reconciliation cannot happen without accountability, and grace does not erase harm. But endless cycles of retribution help neither the oppressor nor the oppressed. And yet sometimes, a simple, beautiful, humble, silent act of kneeling and washing feet can interrupt the patterns we have constructed for ourselves, patterns we have been tempted to think are inevitable.

I don't know how to live in a world where Judas gets his feet washed, too. But I want to. And Maundy Thursday calls me to take a step toward that kind of world. When I do, I take a step away from Javert's bridge—away from acts of retribution that hurt not only my neighbor but also myself. Because retribution stands in opposition to the humanity we see in Jesus Christ. And when I choose to hate my neighbor instead of washing his feet, I become less human. That is not who I want to be, and I suspect it is not who you want to be either.

Come to the Basin

Tonight, Jesus invites us to take a step into that world: a world where mercy interrupts vengeance, where grace gets down on its knees, and where love is known not by what it says, but by what it does. So come to the basin. Come to the towel. Come to the table. And let the love with which Christ has loved us become the love by which we learn, at long last, to love one another.

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, God's children, say: Amen.

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Stephen Fearing

Stephen was born in 1988 in Cookeville, TN, where his parents met whilst attending Tennessee Tech. Shortly after, they moved to Dalton, Georgia where they put down roots and joined First Presbyterian Church, the faith family that taught Stephen that he was first and foremost a beloved child of God. It was this community that taught Stephen that it was OK to have questions and doubts and that nothing he could do could every possibly separate him from the love of God. In 1995, his sister, Sarah Kate, joined the family and Stephen began his journey as a life-long musician. Since then, he has found a love of music and has found this gift particularly fitting for his call to ministry. Among the instruments that he enjoys are piano, trumpet, guitar, and handbells. Stephen has always had a love of singing and congregation song. An avid member of the marching band, Stephen was the drum major of his high school's marching band. In 2006, Stephen began his tenure at Presbyterian College in Clinton, SC where he majored in Religion and minored in History. While attending PC, Stephen continued to explore his love of music by participating in the Wind Ensemble, Jazz Band, Jazz Combo, Jazz Trio, as well as playing in the PC Handbell ensemble and playing mandolin and banjo PC's very own bluegrass/rock group, Hosegrass, of which Stephen was a founding member (Hosegrass even released their own CD!). In 2010, Stephen moved from Clinton to Atlanta to attend Columbia Theological Seminary to pursue God's call on his life to be a pastor in the PC(USA). During this time, Stephen worked at Trinity Presbyterian Church, Silver Creek Presbyterian Church, Central Presbyterian Church, and Westminster Presbyterian Church. For three years, Stephen served as the Choir Director of Columbia Theological Seminary's choir and also served as the Interim Music Director at Westminster Presbyterian Church. In 2014, Stephen graduated from Columbia with a Masters of Divinity and a Masters of Arts in Practical Theology with an emphasis in liturgy, music, and worship. In July of 2014, Stephen was installed an ordained as Teaching Elder at Shelter Island Presbyterian Church in Shelter Island, NY. Later that year, Stephen married the love of his life, Tricia, and they share their home on Shelter Island with their Golden Doodle, Elsie, and their calico cat, Audrey. In addition to his work with the people who are Shelter Island Presbyterian Church, Stephen currently serves as a commission from Long Island Presbytery to the Synod of the Northeast and, beginning in January of 2016, will moderate the Synod's missions team.