Maundy Thursday 2010

Judas gets the bad press, and deservedly so. This night is all about Judas. His betrayal. His kiss. His kiss of death. It was Judas who brought the authorities to the garden. It was Judas, corrupted by greed, who sold the Son of Man for thirty pieces of silver.

Jesus in the garden, praying, when his prayers are interrupted by Judas leading a crowd with swords and clubs. An unnamed follower mounts a weak defense but Jesus puts a stop to it and does what he always does—heals amidst the violence.

So Judas is the bad guy. There can be no question. Betrayal is such a dark and dramatic act. Could the authorities have found Jesus without Judas’ help? Without question. Jesus is quite ready to be found. But Judas is singled out even by Jesus for his decision—his choice to betray. “Woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed.”

He was there, at the table, with the others. He dared to eat the Passover meal knowing full well what he was about to do. He dipped his hand in the bowl and then slipped out the side door. And Jesus let him go, just as Jesus lets us all go where we will, to do what we think we must do.

And those who are left at the table? The light shines so brightly on Judas this night that we do not always pay attention to those left in the shadows. For they all dip with Jesus while, at the same time, they are not with Jesus at all.

First there are “them” which we might freely understand to be all of those present at the meal. They have just heard Jesus make reference to his betrayal. The disciples spend an obligatory moment wondering who among them would do such a thing?

But this wonderment soon gives way to argument. A dispute arose as to which one was the greatest. In a moment they become the family arguing about the estate over the deathbed of their beloved. Jesus, ever patient, reminds them that there is enough for all in the Kingdom of God. What they stand to inherit cannot be reduced to sections, for they will inherit a relationship and a responsibility. Which is greater?, Jesus asks. The one at table or the one who serves? I am among you as one who serves.

And then there is Peter. First runner-up to Judas. Give Judas some credit. No where does Luke mention that Judas denied what he would do. But Peter denies even his denial. And sure enough. As Jesus knew, Peter denied three times, before the cock crew.

So who is left? Who is left at the table to dip with the master free of blame? There appears to be no one who is free of blame. Judas betrays. Peter denies. The others care more for their own place and station than for their friend’s fate. We could split hairs, argue like the disciples which act is worse—betrayal or denial—or indifference. But what gain comes from such a argument? Like the cheese in the nursery rhyme. In the end, Jesus stands alone.

I think of the movie “Glory”, which tells the story of the 54^th regiment of Massachusetts, the first African American regiment in the Civil War. Near the end of the movie, in the last few days before the 54^th goes into its final battle, Colonel Shaw meets with a soldier who is the rebel, the outsider, the antagonist. Colonel Shaw compliments the soldier, whose name is Trip, and suggests he carry the colors. Trip hesitates, clearly uncomfortable. He doesn’t feel right carrying the flag. “You see, Colonel,” he explains, “I ain’t fighting this war for you. I mean, what’s the point? Ain’t nobody gonna win.” Trip and Colonel Shaw discuss this observation. Then Shaw sums up the situation. “I suppose it stinks,” he says. “Yea,” Trip says, “stinks bad. And we all covered up in it. Ain’t nobody clean. Sure would be nice to get clean, though.” “How do we do that?” Colonel Shaw asks. Trip considers for a moment. “Lend a hand and kick in. But I still don’t want to carry your flag.”

This is very insightful Eucharistic theology. Something to remember on Maundy Thursday. Something to bear in mind if we are of a mind to throw stones at Judas, or Peter, or anyone who we see as not fit to be here. Ain’t nobody clean. Sure would be nice to get clean, though. How do we get clean? This is my body, broken for you. This cup is the new covenant sealed in my blood. Come to the table, remembering your baptism by which you were made clean. But we can’t stay clean. Nobody can. Which is why we need this table not just tonight but on all the nights that this world is steeped in injustice and violence. While greed and betrayal and denial are commonplace, we need this table. Until we all feast in the Kingdom of God, we eat and drink at Christ’s invitation. And, having been fed, we lend a hand and kick in.