A HOLY WEEK: Day Five

(As this week advances, I show more and more disregard for the commitment I originally made to post each day by the early to mid evening. It’s mid-morning Friday as I post this reflection about Thursday. Good job, Coley.)


Last night’s worship at our church focused on the night Jesus gathered with his closest followers to institute what today we call communion or the Lord’s Supper. It’s another of the traditional worship experiences (officially known as “Maundy Thursday”) that draws less and less interest with the passing of generations. Last night’s worshipers numbered twelve. Which was a convenient number, if you think about it, in as much as that’s how many started out with Jesus in the upper room, the night before he died.

So the inevitable question was, which one of us will be like Judas? Which one of us will leave church tonight to betray Jesus? Which one of us will be like Peter – another of the twelve – who three times under pressure denied even knowing Jesus? How many of us will be like the original followers, people who deserted their Lord at his time of need?

Those are hard questions to answer, or at least to want to answer, because to do so means I have to confess, I have to say, “Me,” before accusing anyone else.

How many people in the room will fail today? I will.
How many people will in some form or fashion deny Jesus today? I will.
How many people will run away from their faith today? I will.

Because I don’t know your heart as well as I know my own. Because my behavior is an easier target than yours. Because I have no business looking around the room to finger co-conspirators before I acknowledge my role in the plot.

I figure the original last supper was a very personal experience. Jesus all but shined a spotlight of accusation on Judas. He predicted Peter’s denial right to the man’s face. It must have been with a searing gaze that Jesus looked into each of his disciples that night.

And what about you, Bill? I don’t want to hear about all those other people. Tell me about you. What are you going to do?

Most of the time Christians remember the last supper as an event in Jesus’ life, which, of course, it was. But it was and continues to be also a very intimate and revelatory experience for us who claim Jesus’ name. Anyone who dares sit with Jesus as he prepares for the cross is subject to that peering stare, those confession-seeking questions. Anyone who eats that meal with Jesus will be asked, What about you?

Maybe that explains why fewer and fewer people participate in Maundy Thursday worship. Perhaps that’s why I’m thinking about proposing we do away with that worship in our church.


Pray with me:
The passion grows. The intensity deepens. The questions grow harder and harder. Jesus wants me to stay awake while he prepares to die for me. Help me do at least that. If you don’t, I will run away, or deny, or betray, or all of the above. This is a hard week, God. In the name of Jesus, Amen.