Lent 2026 - Reading #46 - Love (Charity)
Reading
The Gospel of John records the supreme act of love at the Last Supper: "Now before the Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper. He laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around his waist. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet" (John 13:1-5). And Jesus's command: "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another" (John 13:34-35). Later in the same discourse: "Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you" (John 15:13-15).
Reflection
Holy Thursday. Forty-eight days of Lent, and we arrive at the night that changes everything. Tonight, in churches around the world, the events of the Last Supper will be reenacted, the washing of feet, the breaking of bread, the cup of wine. Our entire Lenten journey has been preparation for this night, when love reveals its ultimate shape: service, sacrifice, and the gift of self. Consider the scene John paints. Jesus knows that his hour has come. He knows he will be betrayed, arrested, tortured, and killed. And what does he do with this knowledge? He gets up from the table, takes off his robe, and washes his disciples' dirty feet. This is what love looks like when all pretense is stripped away. Not grand speeches, not heroic gestures visible from a distance, but the quiet, intimate act of serving the people right in front of you, including the one who will betray you. "Just as I have loved you." This is the standard. Not as the world loves, conditionally, selectively, in proportion to what it receives. But as Jesus loves, completely, freely, unto death. Forty-eight days of virtue have been leading here, and the truth is both beautiful and terrifying: this is what we are called to become. People who love like this. The prudence to see who needs us. The justice to serve without counting the cost. The fortitude to love when it hurts. The temperance to set aside our own preferences. The faith to trust that this love is not wasted. The hope that it will bear fruit we may never see. And the love itself, poured out, broken, given. This is the way. This is the truth. This is the life.