Maundy Thursday, Grace Episcopal Church, 2007

Chaplain Mike Ashley,  USAF (retired)

The Collect:

Almighty Father, whose dear Son, on the night before he suffered, instituted the Sacrament of his Body and Blood: Mercifully grant that we may receive it thankfully in remembrance of Jesus Christ our Lord, who in these holy mysteries gives us a pledge of eternal life; and who now lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Readings:

The Old Testament, Exodus 12:1-14

The Psalm, 116:1, 10-17

The Epistle, I Corinthians 11:23-26

The Gospel, John 13:1-17, 31b-35

This day is all about Eucharist. “Eucharist” comes from the Greek word for giving thanks. On the streets of Athens, we would often hear, “Ephcaristo poli!”, thank you very much. So, as Jesus gave thanks for bread and wine, we give thanks, and in so doing celebrate Eucharist.

For this day, our Prayer Book offers the option of reading Luke’s account of the Last Supper, or John’s. The Revised Common Lectionary, which we now follow, asks us to concentrate on John.  Our readings take us from Passover, through Eucharist, to Eucharist without Eucharist and remind us of the meaning of the day, “Maundy”, coming from the Latin root of “mandate”, I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. The celebration of Eucharist is made complete in our continuing exercise of faith. So, we often say, as we depart, “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”

         But back, now to Passover. I learned a lesson from Abe Engelberg, the Jewish chaplain on our team in Greece.  Our reading from Exodus tells the story of Passover, how God saved his people Israel, enslaved in Egypt.  Each household was to take a lamb to be used in the Passover ritual. But I noticed that in every Passover celebration I had shared with Jewish communities, chicken—kosher chicken—was on the menu. Why not lamb? Rabbi Abe Engelberg answered with his own question, “Have you asked a most wonderful question?” He went on to say Scripture tells us that if a household is too small to eat a lamb, two households can share. But the Jewish communities of Eastern Europe in centuries past were so poor that very few families could afford even half a lamb.  So, the Rabbis reasoned, since in other required rituals, the Law made exception for the poor, surely it would be lawful to make an exception in the menu. A lamb bone on the table would symbolize the original.  They further reasoned, though, that nobody should eat lamb for Passover. The reason? There should be no second-class citizens when it comes to Passover. If the poor can’t have lamb, the rich won’t have lamb either. So, Passover was made complete in the continuing exercise of faith: a sensitivity to the less fortunate and a concrete expression of solidarity with them. Perhaps an obedient foretaste of the commandment to love?

         So, we proceed from Passover to Eucharist. It was, after all, during a celebration of Passover that Jesus gave new meaning to bread and wine. The words of Paul the Apostle we heard this evening, the basis of Eucharistic prayers, date to about the year 55. I’m thinking of the phrases “This is my body that is for you.  Do this in remembrance of me…This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.”  We can be sure this formulation had been in use some years before Paul quoted it. Matthew, Mark, and Luke give us similar accounts of the events of that night.

As regards our understanding of Scripture, I welcomed Bishop Cate’s recent Pastoral Letter. Her words remind us that a Biblical fellowship is one that listens to the Gospel, and is particularly sensitive to the requests Jesus makes of his followers—one of which is that we be faithful in participating in his saving work. The term often translated “communion” is perhaps better translated “participation”. As Paul the Apostle challenges us, “The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ?  The bread which we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ?

In a similar vein, I’m quite taken by an account offered by Justin the Martyr, from the early to mid second century, describing Christian worship:

…on the day called Sunday, all who live in cities or in the country gather together to one place, and the memoirs of the apostles or the writings of the prophets are read, as long as time permits; then, when the reader has ceased, the president verbally instructs, and exhorts to the imitation of these good things. Then we all rise together and pray, and, as we before said, when our prayer is ended, bread and wine and water are brought, and the president in like manner offers prayers and thanksgivings, according to his ability, and the people assent, saying Amen; and there is a distribution to each, and a participation of that over which thanks have been given, and to those who are absent a portion is sent by the deacons. And they who are well to do, and willing, give what each thinks fit; and what is collected is deposited with the president, who succours the orphans and widows and those who, through sickness or any other cause, are in want, and those who are in bonds and the strangers sojourning among us, and in a word takes care of all who are in need.

         The form of worship we follow is deeply rooted in the history of faith.  Indeed, for most Christians, Eucharist lies at the heart of the mystery of faith. This is particularly true for those of us who see ourselves as liturgical Christians. The mystery is celebrated with the finest we have to offer: Music, art, wonderful spaces such as ours, filled with children, women, and men devoted to this expression of worship.  The hearing of Scripture and homily, affirmation of faith, prayers, confession, peace, and Eucharist and blessing mean so much to us. Aesthetics are so important.

         Still, celebrations of Eucharist are made complete in the continuing exercise of faith. Did you notice Justin’s last remarks? “ …And they who are well to do, and willing, give what each thinks fit; and what is collected is deposited with the president, who succours the orphans and widows and those who, through sickness or any other cause, are in want, and those who are in bonds and the strangers sojourning among us, and in a word takes care of all who are in need.”

         We come now to Eucharist without Eucharist. How can that be? We call the writers of the Gospel accounts the Evangelists, and rightly so.  So, our chandeliers bear the markings of the Evangelists, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Just as hymnody calls Jesus “Prophet and Priest and King,” evangelists, while not being kings, do qualify as prophets.  Prophets are a troublesome lot. They speak all kinds of truth. Even unwelcome truth. John, the troublemaker, talks to us about the seemingly impossible notion of Eucharist without Eucharist.  We have the disciples and Jesus, the Passover table shared, but not a word about bread the wine.  Curious, isn’t it?

         Yes, as we’ve heard, the tradition was well established in John’s time, not long before Justin’s. The story of the last supper he knew well. But what does he do? What can he be thinking? From remembrance of that first Eucharist and what it has come to mean to us; the good, the beautiful, the hymns, the organ, the vestments, challenging ideas and uplifting sermons, the Bread and wine, Body and blood…he deletes all reference to Eucharist—what a surprise this must have been to the first hearers of his Gospel account—and leaves us with Jesus, who humbles himself, and over objection tends to dirty feet and tells his closest followers they are to do the same. And by the way, he issues an order: love one another.

         Perhaps John’s Eucharist without Eucharist is designed to strongly remind us that the joy of worship, to be fed on supernatural food, is not an end in itself, as far as Jesus is concerned. It’s more comfortable to present myself at the altar and be fed than it is to deal with feet—somebody else’s feet and they with mine. Why does John muddy the Gospel waters with this account of the event? It just might be his strong reminder that Eucharist must be made complete in our continuing exercise faith…