REFLECTION:

We all know the rule at a party or gathering about double dipping in the chip dip. Once you dip your chip and take a bite, you’re not supposed to dip it again. The reason is simple—you don’t want to share your germs with everyone else, and most people don’t want to eat from a dip that someone has already double dipped in.

But if it were just you and your spouse, or someone very close to you, the rule might not matter as much. You probably wouldn’t think twice about it. Why? Because there is a level of closeness, trust, and familiarity between the two of you.

That small example helps us understand something deeper in the Gospel from Matthew 26:14–25. During the meal with His disciples, Jesus says something that must have stunned everyone at the table: “He who has dipped his hand into the dish with me is the one who will betray me.”

In the time of Jesus, sharing food from the same dish was a sign of friendship and communion. You did not share a dish with strangers. You shared it with those who belonged at the table with you.

That is what makes this moment so painful. Jesus is not betrayed by someone outside the circle. He is betrayed by someone who sat at the table with Him, shared meals with Him, and dipped bread into the same dish with Him.

Judas Iscariot had walked with Jesus for years. He had heard the teachings, witnessed the miracles, and shared countless meals with the Lord. Yet even while sitting at the same table, something in his heart had already begun to drift away.

This Gospel is not meant to make us simply point at Judas. Instead, it invites us to hear the question that the disciples asked that night: “Surely it is not I, Lord?”

Because in many ways, we too have dipped our hand into the dish with Jesus.

Every time we gather for the Eucharist, we are invited to His table. We hear His Word. We receive His mercy and His grace. We share in communion with Him.

Yet the Gospel quietly challenges us to reflect: Are there moments when we sit at the table with Jesus, but our hearts are somewhere else? Are there times when we stay close to Him outwardly, yet our priorities, decisions, or desires pull us away?

The tragedy of Judas is not that he sat at the table with Jesus. The tragedy is that he allowed something else to take hold of his heart even while sitting there.

Holy Week invites us back to the table with honesty. It invites us to examine our hearts and ask that same question the disciples asked: “Is it I, Lord?”

The good news is this: Jesus knew what Judas would do, yet He still allowed him to sit at the table. That tells us something about the heart of Christ. His table is not reserved for the perfect. It is open to those who are willing to let their hearts be changed.

So as we journey through these sacred days, perhaps the invitation is simple: If we are going to dip our hand into the dish with Jesus, then let us also allow our hearts to remain faithful to the One who invites us to His table.