April 2, 2015, Maundy Thursday: John 13:1-17, 31b-35
John 13 begins with imminent betrayal, suffering, and death. Understandably, we tend to envision the scene with somber images. Sobriety is called for; the cross and the bitter irony of Jesus being “raised up” are at hand. We are about to be told a strict commandment, which we’d better obey or else become another Judas. Maundy means commandment; it’s Commandment Thursday. Jesus’ expression should be serious. Or perhaps we imagine he is already exhausted from the agony to come, barely hanging on, waiting for it all to be over.
I wonder if we overlook Jesus’ joy. On a wooded hill in Baguio, a city in the mountains of the Philippines, there is a large wooden crucifix. Jesus’ feet and left hand are nailed to the light, reddish-brown wood. But his right hand is reaching out to those who come to the cross. His palm is up toward the heavens; he is inviting us to be with him, indeed even to join him on the cross. And he has the most wonderful, delight-filled smile. It is not the raptured agony-ecstasy of holy pain; it is a countenance of persuasive gladness.
Over the years, I developed a confused understanding of what we are supposed to do in church this particular night. I can remember going to a number of different events and services on the Thursday before Easter. At seders we celebrated the Passover feast (as per the assigned Exodus reading). Communion services in fellowship halls recalled the institution of the Lord’s Supper (see the scheduled lesson from 1 Corinthians). Foot washing reenacted Jesus’ humble gesture. During Tenebrae services, church leaders read texts solemnly and extinguished candles one by one. Amid such services, someone would read the words of Jesus in strict liturgical monotone and tell us to love one another. We all went home, not really needing a Good Friday service since Jesus was pretty much already up on the cross.
