Maundy Thursday
April 17, 2025
William G. Carter
When the hour came, Jesus took
his place at the table, and the apostles with him. He said to them, “I
have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer; for I
tell you, I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of
God.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he said, “Take this and
divide it among yourselves; for I tell you that from now on I will not
drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.” Then he
took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to
them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance
of me.” And he did the same with the cup after supper, saying, “This cup
that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.
But see, the one who betrays me is with me, and his hand is on the table. For the Son of Man is going as it has been determined, but woe to that one by whom he is betrayed!” Then they began to ask one another, which one of them it could be who would do this. A dispute also arose among them as to which one of them was to be regarded as the greatest. But he said to them, “The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you; rather the greatest among you must become like the youngest, and the leader like one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one at the table? But I am among you as one who serves.
Thanks to columnist David Brooks, I’ve been working through a book of prayers. Back around Christmas, Brooks wrote a major article in the New York Times about his spiritual journey. He mentioned a book called The Valley of Vision. An Amazon gift card appeared under the Christmas tree, and I used it to purchase the book. It is an attractive book, of Puritan prayers.
Every morning, at the end of my morning reading, somewhere around 8:30, I recite one of the prayers. I’ve decided I might not make a good Puritan.
The Presbyterian Church has descended, in part, from the Puritans. Most of us have moved on a good distance beyond them. The prayers can be demanding at best, scathing at worst. They scrape away any pretension that we are good people. They highlight our sins, especially the ones we have not noticed. They scrub like steel wool on the soul.
You see, “self-esteem” was not a phrase known by the Puritans. They believe it leads to deadly pride, spiritual arrogance, and the flawed assumption that we have no need for God. Build yourself up, inflate your importance, and it’s a short time before you fall. As I work through these prayers, I frequently find myself chastened, corrected, and exposed.
I wonder how the disciples felt, years later, when their foibles were written down and published in scripture. There they are around the Passover table. Jesus says it will be the last Passover he will celebrate for a while. He speaks of suffering. He speaks of blood. He speaks of death. And an argument breaks out between the boys, “Which one of them is the best?” Are they that tone-deaf? Yes.
Over in the Gospel of Mark, this episode is told on the road to Jerusalem. Here, it’s right there at the Last Supper, as if Luke is telling us the holiest moment can be punctured by worst human impulses. The description of this interruption is pretty scathing: “I’m better than you.” “No, you’re not.” They sound like children fighting over their mother’s attention. They miss the moment. They miss the mark. They miss the truth they are loved equally. The blessing of Passover devolves into arrogance, division, and competition.
It can happen to any of us. Especially if we are intoxicated by our own importance. That’s what the Puritan prayers have been teaching me.
Fact is, Jesus pours out the cup, calls it blood, and says, “One of you will betray me. Your hand is on the table.” They look around the table. Who is it?
We know it would be Judas, but they didn’t know that. For twenty-two chapters, Judas has been towing the line, fitting in, doing whatever the other disciples did. In Luke’s account, there was no sign of unfaithfulness. There was no hint Judas will turn out bad. It’s only years later, looking back on the event, that Luke says, “The devil got into him,” the same devil that tempted Jesus. The point is it could have been any of us.
Listen to what happens tonight. Two disciples are with Jesus in the Garden. One has a sword, the other comes with a kiss. Which one is friend? Which one is enemy? The one with the sword is friend. The one with the kiss is the enemy. Who would have known that?
So, we are invited to some self-reflection. Judas was at the table. So was Simon Peter. And here we are. Anyone who partakes of the Eucharist can betray the Lord. Just because we eat the bread and drink the cup is no assurance that we will persevere. As someone notes, “Only Jesus’ intimates can betray him.”[1] Those closest to Jesus are most at risk. It could be any of us.
This is how Luke wishes to shape our faith. He invites us to look into a warped mirror, detect our distortions, and correct what we see. And we reflect on what we don’t see – but it’s still there.
For the invitation continues. Come to God once more through the grace of Jesus Christ. Take the bread, always broken for you. Drink the cup poured out for you, remembering he has made a new covenant for us. We are thoroughly and completely loved, so there is always a place for us at Christ’s Table. We are welcome, no matter what we’ve done. We are invited to a journey that continues to transform us.
At every step of the way, we’re invited to come home.
Come home to God.
[1] Frank J.
Matera, Passion Narratives and Gospel Theologies (Mahwah NJ: Paulist
Press, 1986) 163.
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