Maundy Thursday

Tradition tells us Jesus and his disciples gathered in a home—whose it was we aren’t sure—but there must have been a second floor. Otherwise, why the “upper” room?

They came together to take part in a Seder, one of the highlights of Passover week. The meal was a symbolic one, reminding Jews of the sufferings of their ancestors and the power of God's deliverance. The foods that were eaten were symbols to remind the Jews of their captivity in Egypt. A form of applesauce was eaten to remind them of brick mortar and the fact that they were forced to make bricks with no straw. A bitter herb like horseradish is eaten to remind them of the bitterness of their captivity.

It was toward the end of that Seder that Jesus added two more symbols. He took a loaf of bread and broke it and gave it to his disciples saying: “Take eat, this is my body, which is broken for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” Then he took a cup filled with wine. He drank from it and gave it to his disciples saying, “Drink from this cup, all of you, for this is my blood which is shed for you and for many for the forgiveness of sin.” Thus was born our sacrament of the Lord's Supper, out of the experience of an ancient Jewish custom.

As we think of those disciples around the table, I wonder: can we see ourselves? To me, the disciples represent all that is good and bad about our humanity.

Maybe we can see ourselves in Matthew. Here was a man who was good with figures, but who initially used his talent for himself rather than God. He became a tax collector. It was his responsibility to collect tax money for the Romans—money that went to support the oppression of his own people. In a way, you could think of him as the Bernie Madoff of his day. He reminds us of just how far many people are willing to go to advance their personal ambition. But when Matthew came to Jesus he came all the way. Now he was using his mind to keep an account of the Master's teachings. Matthew reminds us that our talents are God-given, but we must chose to use our talents toward the right end, that is, to make this world a better place than when it was before we came into it.

Maybe we see ourselves in James and John. They remind us of the pride and the ego that is in us all. It was their mother who went to Jesus to do their bidding for them. She admonished the Master: “When you come into your Realm place my sons, one on your right hand, and one on your left hand.” Even on this, the occasion of their last night together, the disciples are arguing amongst themselves which one is the greatest and who deserved the seat of honor at the table. James and John remind us that if we’re to follow Jesus we must first surrender ego. We must decrease so that he might increase. We must remember the words of Jesus: whoever would be greatest among you, must be a servant.

Certainly we can see a part of ourselves in Thomas. Like Thomas, we long for something tangible we can cling to when our experience of God begins to fail. We live in a prove-it-to-me age. But Thomas would remind us that resurrection faith isn’t something that can be neatly wrapped in a package. We can never possess faith as one would possess a thing. To follow the Master we must be able to echo the words: Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.

There was Simon the Zealot. It embarrasses me to say that I see some of myself in this man, for he was one who hated with a passion. He reminds me that hate is an emotion that I also feel sometimes. The zealots were a political faction who wanted the Romans out and the Jews in, and they were more than willing to commit acts of violence and murder to accomplish their goal. They were terrorists. “The end justifies the means,” they said. Simon would remind us that if we’re to follow the Master we must look at his total message, even the parts that say: “Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you.”

Then, there’s Mary Magdalene. I don’t buy into the whole Da Vinci Code thing, but I think she was there. I believe she was one of Jesus’ most important followers. Some scholars think she may even have been “the beloved disciple.” However, she was edited out of the tradition because a male-dominated church couldn’t stand a woman with that much influence among our Lord’s followers. She represents all of those we’d like to “edit out” of the church. In the past it was African-Americans, divorced persons, and women. Many women still feel “edited out,” to a large extent. These days it’s lesbian and gay people. Some people in the church would like to edit them out. But Mary Magdalene reminds us that Jesus included all sorts of people among his companions—people who were “edited out” in his day too. Mary Magdalene reminds us that if we’re followers of our Lord, we can’t edit anyone out of the communion of God’s love without being edited out ourselves.

There was Judas. If we don’t see Judas in ourselves, maybe it’s because we aren’t looking closely enough. Judas was impatient with Jesus. Judas believed that Jesus really did have the power to bring about the reign of God, but he didn’t understand why Jesus kept waiting. Judas, therefore, contrived a situation in which Jesus would be forced to show his power. He would turn him over to the Jews and Romans. Judas would remind us that if we’re to follow Jesus we must remember that our schedule isn’t always God's schedule and that our means aren’t always God’s means. We see with the vision of the immediate. God sees with the vision of eternity. God knows; we only think we know.

Then there’s Simon Peter. How impetuous he was! Always willing to leap before he looked. When Jesus told the disciples they would all fall away, it was Simon Peter who roared, “Lord, though they all fall away, I will never leave your side!” But Simon Peter did fall away. He denied Jesus—not once but three times. He would remind us that to follow the master we must count the cost of discipleship.

Let’s confess before God that we’re all of the disciples, with all of their frailties and sinfulness. We’re also like them in our sincere desire to follow Christ. My prayer is that the power of God will remind us who we are—children of God, all of us.