Holy Thursday Reflection

Holy Thursday: Two Paths Before Mercy
Kathya Raldiris, Board of Directors

“For You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in You.” – Saint Augustine of Hippo

On this day—or rather, this night—we commemorate three great gifts bestowed at the Last Supper: the Eucharist, the Commandment of Love, and the Priesthood. In this reflection, I want to bring forth something small, yet immense: the mercy of our Lord, even in the final
moments before His Passion. A mercy that is offered freely, yet never imposed.

It is easy to see the Triduum as one long, eventful day. Today, as Catholics, we can become so immersed in our tasks, trying to make this Triduum impactful for others, that we forget to pause and listen: What is happening within our hearts? What is God trying to speak into
our souls?

Today, I want to place before us two men—both deeply loved by Jesus Christ—whose stories reveal two possible paths in our own journey. Both encountered the same mercy of Christ, yet responded to it through the fragility of their humanity and the freedom of their will.

We first have Judas Iscariot, known as the traitor. He was one of the Twelve Apostles, meaning he lived in close proximity to Jesus. During the Last Supper, he too sat at the table with the Messiah. Jesus chose him, even knowing his weaknesses; He trusted him, and above all, He loved him.

Like it sometimes happens to us, Judas allowed his heart to grow cold and distant. He walked with Jesus, but he was no longer in communion with Him. And so, he chose to betray Him. When Judas saw the consequences of his actions, he was filled with remorse (cf. Mt 27:3–5), yet his sorrow did not open itself to grace. Instead of turning back, he
closed himself off to the very mercy that was still being offered to him.

Have we allowed our daily lives to distract us from the presence of Jesus? Have we fallen into believing that our wrongdoing outweighs God’s love and mercy for us? Have we mistaken guilt for repentance, forgetting that true repentance always leads us back to the Heart of Christ?

On the other end, we have Saint Peter. Peter was bold in his words, yet sometimes weak in his actions. His spirit was willing, but his flesh was weak (cf. Mt 26:41). His presence was strong, yet his humanity followed closely behind.

During the Passion, Peter found himself questioned—not only about Jesus, but about his own identity as His disciple. Three times, he denied Him, saying, “I do not know the man” (cf. Mt 26:69–75). Peter, too, betrayed Jesus.

Yet unlike Judas, Peter encountered the gaze of Christ and allowed it to transform him. “The Lord turned and looked at Peter… and he went out and wept bitterly” (Lk 22:61–62). In that look, Peter experienced not condemnation, but mercy—a mercy that calls forth conversion. His tears were not of despair, but of repentance; and repentance became the
path through which grace restored him.

In the Garden of Gethsemane, when Judas approached Jesus with a kiss, Jesus said to him: “Friend, do what you have come for” (Mt 26:50). Even in betrayal, Jesus calls him friend. He sees beyond the action and into the heart. He sees the brokenness of man,yet never withdraws His love. His mercy remains constant—but it awaits our response.

So the question remains: when faced with difficulty, with suffering, with the Cross—will we run away from the mercy offered to us, or will we move toward it as we are—weak, wounded, yet open? Will we close ourselves off like Judas, or return like Peter?

May this Holy Triduum be a call to return to the Heart of Christ. And may we, in the face of betrayal and suffering, be courageous enough to accompany Him to the Cross, so as to share also in the joy of the Resurrection.

In Christ, peace.