Not many people are privileged to be an eyewitness to history-altering events, but I certainly was. I wasn’t only a witness; you might say I was a key player in the events that seemed to turn everything upside down. Nothing, it seemed, was the same.

This man known as Jesus, whom some called the Christ, whom others called a modern-day Elijah, was crucified, buried and then raised from the dead.

I know, because I was there.

I’m known as "the disciple whom Jesus loved." You’d probably like to know my real name, but, for reasons I’ll explain later, it’s better that you know me only as "the disciple whom Jesus loved," or, if you prefer, "the beloved disciple."

I’ll come to that explanation in a sec, but right now, the more important thing for you to know is this: As I said, I was there with Jesus during the final week before his crucifixion.

I’m talking about the Passover. In Jerusalem.

The gospel you’re reading today mentions me specifically as being there with Jesus on Thursday, the day of Unleavened Bread. You call it the Last Supper. We never called it that, but it doesn’t matter.

"One of his disciples — the one whom Jesus loved — was reclining next to him" (John 13:23). That’s how the gospel says it.

"Reclining next to him." Perhaps I should explain.

You don’t eat like that these days, I know. Unless you’re on the couch propped up on one elbow snacking on nachos and watching the game. But we ate this way most all the time. Reclining.

And those pictures painted centuries later of the Last Supper don’t help you much. DaVinci — what did he know? You see, unlike how you do it today, we didn’t sit around the table on chairs back then. Our custom was that each person reclined on a couch, the head of which was drawn up to a low table. Our feet were stretched out behind us, away from the table. We ate leaning on our left elbows, leaving our right hands free to handle the food. So you see why John wrote that I was "reclining next to Jesus." We were all reclining, but I was the one immediately to Jesus’ right. Judas was also reclining next to Jesus, but he was on Jesus’ left.

On this particular occasion, something shocking happened; namely, Jesus said there was a traitor among us. Peter, who was farther away from Jesus than I was, signaled me to ask Jesus who the betrayer was. So I asked, "Lord, who is it?"

Jesus had a piece of bread in his hand, and he said, "It’s the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish." Did he think Judas didn’t hear him say that? Why didn’t he just say, "Uh, it’s Judas"? I don’t know, but he dips the bread and gives it to Judas Iscariot and says to him, "Do quickly what you’re going to do." Then Judas got up and left.

But the thing is, only Judas and I were close enough to Jesus to hear this exchange, and I misunderstood it. In fact, when Judas left, we all thought Jesus had sent Judas to buy groceries or something, or to give something to the poor because he was sort of like our treasurer.

Anyway, after supper, the rest of us went with Jesus to the garden — Gethsemane — where Jesus prayed while, I’m sorry to say, the rest of us slept. But I was there when Jesus was arrested. We tried to defend Jesus — Peter had a sword — but Jesus stopped us, and we all scattered.

That’s the short version.

Actually, Peter and I didn’t go too far away. At a distance, we shadowed the soldiers who had Jesus in custody, and when they took him to the high priest, I managed to get into the courtyard because I was known to the high priest. And I was also able to vouch for Peter and get him in too, not that it did Jesus any good.

Long story short, the next day Jesus was crucified. I went to the place where he was dying, where I met up with his mother and some other women who followed Jesus. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Seeing Jesus up on that cross, barely able to talk, blood all over, after all we’d been through — well, I tell you, it just broke my heart.

So we’re kind of huddled around the cross comforting each other, and we hear Jesus speak: "Woman, here is your son." He was talking to Mary about me. Then he spoke directly to me. Don’t know how he did it: "Here is your mother." I said nothing, but I got it, so from that hour I took Mary into my home.

In a sense, by committing his mother to me and me to her, Jesus was establishing a new family, which, of course, is what his death and resurrection did for us all. He made a way for us all to be part of the family of God. He said much that same thing to Mary Magdalene after his resurrection, when, outside his tomb he told her, "Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’"

But, of course, there at the cross I didn’t have a clue about any of this. When Jesus died, my hopes died. It was over.

What I’m trying to help you understand is that I was there with Jesus at the Last Supper, in the garden, when he was arrested, when he was with the high priests and when he was actually hanging naked on the cross.

I was there. I saw this. I witnessed it. I was a part of the story. It isn’t like I just got — how do you say — a text message about it or something.

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But there’s more, of course. I was also in the upper room on Sunday morning when the women left early to finish washing and anointing Jesus’ body. So the rest of us are just hanging out, moping basically, when, BAM! Mary Magdalene bursts into the room, all out of breath and talking like a mad woman, saying that someone — she didn’t know who — had taken Jesus’ body!

I’ll tell you what: That got our attention. Peter and I looked at each other slack-jawed and wide-eyed, and then we both started out the door at the same time.

Peter can’t run — at least not very well. So I got to the tomb first, but I didn’t go in. I did look in, though. I couldn’t believe my eyes: I saw the burial wrappings lying there empty. Someone had taken the body! I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew that whatever it was, it was huge.

A few seconds later, Peter got there, and, of course, Peter being Peter, he went right on in. So I followed him. Inside, we saw not only the linen wrappings but also the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head. It was rolled up in a place by itself.

For me, seeing those burial wrappings changed everything. Mary had seen only that the stone on the mouth of the burial chamber had been rolled away, and she assumed Jesus’ body had been stolen. She hadn’t gone inside the tomb.

But here’s my thinking: Grave robbers wouldn’t have taken the time to remove the burial cloths, having to unwrap them from around the body. And at that moment, I realized no one had taken Jesus away; rather, he had left death behind.

I then knew in my heart that Jesus was alive. I believed.

Let me say that to you again: He had left death behind.

I tell you, knowing that and believing it was totally life-changing. I had in a split second — how do you say it these days? — a complete paradigm shift. It was a transformative experience. Right there in a cold, stone tomb. There were no ifs, buts or maybes. Jesus was alive and somewhere.

And I had no idea where that somewhere was.

The answer came soon enough. I — "the beloved disciple" — was also with Jesus a few days later at the Sea of Tiberias. Peter, a few of the other disciples and I had spent the night out on the water fishing. But though we had fished all night, we hadn’t caught anything. Then we see a man on shore. He tells us to cast our net on the other side of the boat.

Like we hadn’t ever thought of doing that! We’d thrown our nets every which way and still came up with nothing. But what was there to lose? So we tossed our nets over the other side.

We caught more fish than we could haul in.

Then I had another epiphany: I knew it was Jesus. Like getting to the tomb first, I got to this insight first, too. I said to Peter, "It is the Lord!" And Peter, being Peter, can’t wait for us to paddle the boat to shore: He dove over the side and swam to shore, just like that.

It was Jesus. No doubt about it. He had a fire going, and we had breakfast.

After the meal, Jesus had this macabre conversation with Peter in which Jesus says that Peter would someday die on behalf of the kingdom of God.

That couldn’t have gone down well with breakfast. Trust me.

I’m not sure how Peter was handling this news, but at one point, he looked at me and asked, "Lord, what about him?"

Jesus says, "If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is that to you? Follow me!" Because of that answer, the rumor spread in the community that I would still be alive when Jesus returned. Jesus had indeed said he was coming again, coming back for us.

But Jesus didn’t say that. He simply said, "If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is that to you?"

Now, a couple of things about me:

First, I’m the source, the eyewitness behind the gospel of John. Don’t know if you knew that. The gospel was written based on my testimony. Near the end, it says about me, "This is the disciple who is testifying to these things and has written them, and we know that his testimony is true." You see, that’s how I "remained" with the community. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t die but that my testimony would live on and continue to be heard and read. You yourselves have heard some of it read in this service here today.

That’s what was behind Jesus’ reply to Peter when Peter asked him what was going to happen to me. Jesus was saying that Peter needed to do what the Lord asked of him, and I needed to do what the Lord asked of me. Peter would bear witness to Jesus by laying down his life. I would bear witness to Jesus through my testimony.

That continues to be true for all disciples of Jesus, including you. We aren’t here to be compared to one another but to do just what the Lord asks of us.

Second, because of that statement about my testimony, many people assume I’m the apostle John and that "the disciple Jesus loved" is just a literary device I used to put myself in the background.

Or some people say I’m John but prefer to be called "the beloved disciple" because Jesus had singled me out as a special friend.

My identity isn’t that easily established, however. Perhaps I should be wearing a mask right now to heighten the sense of mystery. Careful readers of the gospel of John can find evidence that suggests I’m not John.

One fact is that John was from Galilee, so how would he be known to the high priest in Jerusalem, as I was?

Also, when I took Jesus’ mother Mary to my home, that allowed her to remain near Jerusalem. The book of Acts tells us this, which means my home was likely in or near Jerusalem, not far away in Galilee.

Some people have concluded that I’m Mark or Lazarus, the owner of the upper room or some other follower of Jesus who wasn’t one of the Twelve — a disciple but not an apostle.

So why don’t I just clear up my identity for you — take off the mask?

Because I don’t want to, and I’m not going to. Because if I did, you’d miss the whole point as to why I’m identified as I am. Maybe my identity has been deliberately obscured so you might better identify with my relationship with Jesus. Like someone said, "Perhaps the disciple is never named, never individualized, so that we can more easily accept that he bears witness to an intimacy that is meant for each one of us. The closeness that he enjoyed is a sign of the closeness that is mine and yours because we are in Christ and Christ is in us."

Yes, I like that. Whether or not he’s right about the intentions of the gospel’s author, he’s right in how you can understand the meaning of my identity. The question isn’t "Who is the person in the gospel of John who was called ‘the disciple whom Jesus loved’?"

The question is, "Are you aware that Christ wants you to be that person who knows Christ’s love?"

I’m not called the disciple whom Jesus loved because Jesus singled me out for special affection. No, it’s that Christ is the greatest giver of love of all time. Jesus died on the cross as the payment for our sins and because he arose from the grave and lives today, he still carries within himself the undying love of God for us all.

That’s why, when we embrace Christ, when we can say in faith, as I said to Peter, "It is the Lord!" we each become the disciple whom Jesus loves, not only for now but for all eternity.

So, I’m the beloved disciple. That’s all you’re going to know, I guess, except for what I’ve told you. But the good news is that you, too, are the beloved disciple. And perhaps that’s all you need to know. Amen.