Today is Maundy Thursday, a day Christians all over the world remember several important moments in the ministry of Jesus which took place just before his trial, crucifixion, burial, and eventual resurrection. These culminate in what most refer to as The Last Supper.
During this solemn meal, Jesus washed the feet of his disciples, demonstrating his precept, “whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave.” He would also teach them, or more accurately, remind them, “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
It is also during this repast when Jesus announced that one of his closest followers would betray them. When they raised a cry of protest, he said, “It is one of the twelve, one who is dipping bread into the dish with me. For the Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that man if he had not been born.” As a young man, I heard this passage and immediately thought of Judas, the betrayer in that moment. But reading today this passage stings.
Many of you may be familiar with Leonardo da Vinci’s famous mural depicting this event. The painting has always had a special place in my heart because of a dream I had when I fell asleep in Catechism class. I was in the sixth grade, and though I was not a particularly good or spiritual boy, I loved the kind older (at least older than my mother) nun who was my teacher. I was not one to drift away from what she was telling us, but for some reason, I lay my head on the desk and nodded off.
I was in a place that looked much like the Upper Room as da Vinci had depicted it. The disciples were all chattering away, and I was sure no one knew I was there. Then I noticed Jesus motioning to me to come toward Him. When I reached Him, he put me on his lap (which did not seem weird despite my age). He looked into my eyes and said, “Michael, I love you.”
I woke up then to see Sister Margaret talking to the class as she had been. I pleaded with her with my eyes to forgive me for falling asleep, but she merely smiled and nodded as she continued her lesson. I don’t know what she was thinking or knew, but certainly my connection to her grew, though we never spoke of what happened. I cannot help but believe that at least one reason Peter would “weep bitterly” is that he was feeling the full weight of his own betrayal. Notice that at no point that we know of does he say to God, “Well, you know Judas actually handed the Christ over; I just got scared and tried to save my skin.”
Notice that during The Last Supper, Jesus has instituted the practice of Communion, considered not only a special custom for many Christians, but a sacrament. I have often felt closest to God receiving the simple bite of bread and sip of wine, and sensed a particular connection to my Lord during this part of the service. In one sense, this is what the word communion means.
However, during this pandemic, I have also been aware of how much I miss the bond between my fellow parishioners, both literally inside the sanctuary and metaphorically around the world. For all the problems plaguing modern Christianity, at its best the Church is an extension of God’s love and an uniter of what is broken in all of us.
This morning’s readings also included Paul’s stern injunction, “Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty concerning the body and blood of the Lord.” At the very first Communion, Judas was guilty. All of us who have loved the Lord have been guilty at some point since then. As Ronald Rolheiser has written, “We, all of us, betray and sin. We betray ourselves, betray our loved ones, betray our communities, and we sin against our God. Everyone stands in need of forgiveness.” Most of us kind of know this, but tend to diminish what we have done or failed to do as “mistakes” or “falling short” of some nebulous spiritual goal, buffering it all with the idea that we will never be perfect.
Let us remember that during this same meal, Jesus predicted Peter’s denial. I cannot help but believe that at least one reason Peter would “weep bitterly” is that he was feeling the full weight of his own betrayal. Notice that at no point that we know of does he say to God, “Well, you know Judas actually handed the Christ over; I just got scared and tried to save my skin.”
The immediate result of my dream was that I believed in and inwardly danced to the love of God, not as an abstract or intellectual ideal, but as a reality coursing through me like blood. When I am most broken and hurting, I am aware not only of the pain others may have caused me, or the unreasonable suffering I have endured, but of the gulf between the loving Redeemer and myself brought about by my own betrayals.
I do not think we need to beat our breasts and give in to the life long inner moan that we are insignificant souls who will never be deserving of redemption. Redemption has never been about being worthy, but about who we are in relationship to the God who first loved us, and what it took to bring us back to fellowship with Him.
