A Reflection for Tuesday of Holy Week
Find today’s readings here.
One of his disciples, the one whom Jesus loved,
was reclining at Jesus’ side.
There’s an incredibly tender—even intimate—moment in today’s Gospel. I must have read it dozens of times over the years, but I somehow never noticed it—really noticed it—until the final day of a very difficult eight-day retreat some years ago as part of my annual Jesuit retreat.
“One of his disciples, the one whom Jesus loved, was reclining at Jesus’ side” (John 13:23).
As I met with my spiritual director for the last time on the retreat, seemingly still unable to shake the heaviness that had surfaced in my prayer over that week, he gave me a simple invitation:
I want you to live a day as the Beloved Disciple.
That, too, was a first. Huh. The Beloved Disciple? Who’s that? I don’t think I’d ever really appreciated that description. That’s when he pointed me to this verse in John’s Gospel.
The Beloved Disciple
We don’t know exactly who the Beloved Disciple is—but we do know who it isn’t. It’s not Peter, and it’s not Judas. And aside from John, whom tradition has long identified as the Beloved Disciple and presumed author of the Gospel, it’s unlikely to be one of the better-known apostles frequently named throughout the Gospels.
Some Scripture scholars have proposed that it might be Lazarus. Earlier in John’s Gospel, when his sisters send word to Jesus, they say: “Master, the one you love is ill” (John 11:3). And just a few verses later, we read: “Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus” (John 11:5). Intriguingly, the Beloved Disciple only appears in the narrative after Lazarus is raised from the dead. It also explains why the one scholars call the “BD” can look into the empty tomb on Easter Sunday and immediately believe—because he himself has just been raised.
Some have even asked whether Mary Magdalene—one of the few who remains with Jesus through his suffering and is the first to witness the Resurrection—might be a candidate. But in John’s Gospel, she and the Beloved Disciple are clearly described as separate individuals: “She ran and went to Simon Peter and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved” (John 20:2). Also, from the Cross, Jesus says to Mary, “Woman, behold, your son” (John 19:26), and to the beloved disciple, “Behold, your mother” (John 19:27), indicating a male beloved disciple. So while it’s unlikely they are the same person, her devotion and relationship with Jesus mirror this love in unmistakable ways.
An alternative scholarly suggestion, which resonates with me—perhaps due to my experience during that retreat—is that the Beloved Disciple may not be a specific individual at all. Instead, the Beloved Disciple is a symbolic or intentionally anonymous figure, representing the ideal follower of Jesus. His identity remains open so that we might see ourselves in his place.
Whoever the Beloved Disciple at the Last Supper is, on that retreat I was being invited to take that place—to be the Beloved Disciple at Jesus’ side. To rest my head on his chest. To feel the warmth of his body, the rhythm of his breathing. To still myself enough to hear the heartbeat of God.
And that’s not such a far stretch. After all, we are all the beloved of God.
At our Baptism we, too, hear these words that echoed over Jesus in the Jordan: “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased” (Mark 1:11). Though spoken to Jesus, God’s voice speaks the same words over us in that moment and claims us for Christ. Take a moment today to hear those words spoken anew to you: “You are my beloved child.”
To live as the Beloved Disciple, then, is to live from that place of deep, secure love—to stay close to Jesus not just in moments of comfort, but in the hour of betrayal, uncertainty and grief. And to discover there, resting against his heart, our belovedness.
An invitation
This Holy Week, we are invited to walk with Jesus in his suffering—but we’re invited to do that as his beloved. It’s not about superimposing our own stories of suffering onto his. It’s about accompanying him in his hour—being present to his anguish, his loneliness, his love poured out. In doing so, we keep watch with the One who always keeps watch with us in our hours of need.
In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus turns to his friends and pleads, “Remain here and keep watch with me” (Matthew 26:38). That’s the cry we echo in the Taizé chant we sometimes sing on Holy Thursday night: “Stay with me, remain here with me, watch and pray…” Jesus doesn’t want to face this alone. He needs his friends near. He wants you near.
The invitation on that retreat changed everything about that week of silence for me, and brought me into the life of the Resurrection—a profoundly personal experience of new life.
Might I invite you to try this, too, during this Holy Week?
This Holy Week, stay with Jesus,
Remain at the side of the One whom you love.
Watch and pray as the Beloved Disciple,
Rest against the warmth of his heart.
