Holy Maundy Thursday

There hangs on the wall by my desk a wonderful picture of this wonderful sculpture of the Loving father and his prodigal son. The old man’s arms are around his broken boy. The son despite all he has done and not done—he feels love and acceptance and forgiveness.  

Churches all over the world meet this Thursday night. And we have followed that terrible journey that led to a table and unleavened bread and wine to the washing of feet. His followers sitting there with a lump in their throats  hearing Jesus say he would be leaving them. He knew what they did not know—soon, too soon there would be the place of the skull and the terrible cross. 

Around that table he gave them a last will and testament. And so they called this night maundy, which meant mandate or command. Judas had slipped away. Simon proudly pledged that he would never, never do what he thought Judas must even be doing that very night. One gospel said they all forsook him and fled. Not only Judas or Simon but all for them around that table. 

Jesus said the strangest thing to those all-too-human -disciples. “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another even as I have loved you.” With all their flawedness he gave them their orders—they were to love one another. 

And we know the rest of that story. Terrible things would be done over and over in the name of Jesus. And yet still after all these years the words are still our center piece: Love one another. Looking back on our tortured history one preacher said, “The church has dirty under-drawers.” And not only the church but all of us have fallen short of what we are to be. 

The church today as in every age is having a hard time. People—especially the young—have drifted away. Some call them the nones. They wearily threw in the towel or just do not care. Many reasons but we think of clergy abuse of children and adults. The coverups. A whittling down of Jesus’ mandate. No wonder they feel like the whole Sunday thing is a sham.  For they have not seen in us Christians—anything but love. How do the transgenders or their parents must feel today. Or the parents of those nine year old they buried this week. Or those immigrants think that find our doors shut. Or the poor living in old paper boxes. You won’t find many of these in church on this Maundy Night. 

So that picture on my wall is not just a loving father and a prodigal. It’s us he has his arms around. All of us. I give you a new commandment, he said: love one another. No exceptions.

I don’t have any answer to all our troubles. The Democrats. The Republicans. The political nones. But I do know it wasn’t only Pilate or Judas or Herod or Simon—but we have all forsook him and fled. 

We still have a mandate folks. Love one another. God knows how hard it is—but still after all these years our charge has not changed. No wonder they named this holy night Maundy Thursday.

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com