Last revised: April 12, 2012
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MAUNDY THURSDAY
RCL: Exodus 12: 1-4, (5-10) 11-14, 1 Corinthians 11:23-26, John 13:1-17, 31b-35
RoCa: Exodus 12:1-8, 11-14, 1 Corinthians 11:23-26, John 13:1-15
 

Exodus 12: 1-4, (5-10) 11-14

Resource

1. James G. Williams, The Bible, Violence, and the Sacred, ch. 3, "Moses and the Exodus," gives an insightful reading from the perspective of Mimetic Theory.

2. Renè Girard, Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World. Girard places the Passover in the broader context of a movement away from sacrifice in the Hebrew Scriptures:

Many of the scenes from Genesis and Exodus are apparently concerned, on the historical level, with a state of transition from a world in which human sacrifice was practised on a regular basis, particularly the sacrifice of the first-born, to a world in which the only legitimate blood rites are circumcision and the burning of animal victims (Jacob’s blessing, the sacrifice of Abraham, the circumcision of Moses’s son, and so on).

There is no lack of texts to back up this hypothesis. From our standpoint its advantage is that it allows us to view the Bible permeated by a single, dynamic movement away from sacrifice. We can distinguish a number of very different stages -- differing in their content and the results they produced -- which are nonetheless identical in general bearing and form. This form always involves the preliminary disintegration of a pre-existing system, a catastrophic crisis that ends happily when the victimage mechanism provides a mediation, and the subsequent establishment of a sacrificial system that became more and more humane. The first stage is the transition from human sacrifice to animal sacrifice in the so-called patriarchal period; the second, in Exodus, is the institution of Passover, which accentuates the common meal rather than the burnt sacrifice and can hardly claim to be a sacrifice at all in the proper sense of the term. The third stage is represented by the prophets’ wish to renounce all forms of sacrifice, and this is only carried out in the Gospels. (pp. 239-40)

Reflections and Questions

1. Girard's perspective on the Passover above -- namely, that it is a stage in the Jewish move away from sacrifice -- has a mixed corroboration in history. At the time of Jesus, for example, the practice of Passover still seems quite tied to animal sacrifice. But the destruction of the Temple in 70 shows that the animal sacrifice was not necessarily the central feature. For observance of the Passover centered on a common meal took over in the absence of ritual animal sacrifice.

2. How do we teach about the Passover in the parish, given that it paints a picture of a violent God, one who even slays children instead of the offending adults? I took this on in 2010, first in a sermon ("Visioning Salvation from Our Violence") and then in a newsletter column. We question Pat Robertson when he says the earthquake in Haiti was God's punishment. Shouldn't we also question the interpretation of the Passover that sees the plagues as God's punishment on Pharaoh and Egypt?



John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Resources

1. The Johannine Farewell Discourse is a favorite in Girardian literature. The following is a list (not exhaustive) of places where the Discourse is featured: Renè Girard, The Scapegoat, ch. 15, "History and the Paraclete"; James G. Williams, The Bible, Violence, and the Sacred, ch. 7.D., "The Gospel of John" (p. 204-210); Gil Bailie, "The Gospel of John" audio series, tape #10 (link to my notes / transcription of tape #10); James Alison, Raising Abel, ch. 3, "The Discovery of Jesus' Imagination" and The Joy of Being Wrong, pp. 187-197.

2. Also pertinent to the middle portion of this lesson is James Alison's discussion of the Greek for "glory", doxa. He says that another rendering of doxa is "reputation." See Raising Abel, "Reputation and Shame," pp. 180-185.

3. Paul Nuechterlein, Contagion, Vol. 3, Spring 1996, pp. 204-206, an essay on Holy Communion; the portion excerpted is "Mimetic Servanthood as the Remedy for Mimetic Rivalry." I propose that loving service is the central meaning of the Lord's Supper in the New Testament.

4. An extraordinary resource on this text is "Proclaiming a Crucified Eschaton," by Frederick Niedner (Institute for Liturgical Studies, Valparaiso University, copyright 1998), pp. 10-14. It is aimed at verses 31-35 in the context of the Easter 5C readings, but his overall concept still applies to the Maundy Thursday reading. Niedner focuses on the first phrase of the gospel (vs. 31) in light of the new commandment. Here are some excerpts:

***********Niedner excerpts***********

This Sunday's gospel tells of the new commandment, "Love one another as I have loved you." But what is the old commandment? And why do we need the new one now, here at the last supper which foreshadows the banquet we'll share in the End Time?

The answer lies in the first words of this lesson, "When he had gone out..." The antecedent to the pronoun is Judas. Now that Judas has left the table everything is different. [...]

Have you ever wondered whether, upon hearing Jesus' new commandment about the way the disciples should now love one another, any one of them went out into the night looking for Judas in order to extend that love to him? Did anyone fear for him, miss him, or try, even after he brought soldiers to Gethsemane, to bring Judas back to talk him out of his shame, his anger, his rapidly deepening hell?

We know not how to answer those questions. My guess is no one found him, even if someone tried. To this day it seems that no one has found Judas. He is still out there, it seems, wandering somewhere in the night, forsaken by every generation of disciples since that ancient Thursday, the night of the new commandment. Every time we gather for our sacred meal we commemorate Judas and his unforgivable behavior when we speak of "Our Lord Jesus Christ, on the night when he was betrayed," taking bread. We speak of his sin, but we do not name him. We have not searched for him, and we have not found him. His place at the Lord's table remains empty. [...]

We are no strangers to such brokenness, either, or to its accompanying pain. In our generation we have known the pain of broken churches. We all bear the name of Christ, but there are some with whom we would not eat his meal. We all claim to be the heirs of Abraham, our father in the faith, but some among us cannot abide even the presence of a real, live Jew. Our families, too, know the pain and shame of places at the table where no one sits any more. We ache and we sob over friendships that were put to death with hasty, angry, bitter words. For each of us, at least one Judas wanders about in the night unforgiven. From another perspective, each of us is Judas, slipping about in the shadows, unforgiven, unloved, utterly alone. [...]

How then shall we love one another in the family, as the new commandment requires? The very love we need if we're to love in that new way is given to us as a gift by the one who commands its practice. Our gospel lesson records Jesus' identification of the moment of Judas' departure into the night as the moment in which Jesus' glorification began. In John's gospel, Jesus' glorification is the ironic code word for his crucifixion. Jesus will be glorified and his Father will be glorified in him when he loses his life, when he gives it up. Then, and only then, comes the glorification.

Jesus loved truly by giving himself away, by losing himself. Genuine love always means losing oneself -- in another's arms, in another's laughter, in another's tears. But more, to love is to lose oneself and thereby to find oneself, to find one's true humanity. Such was and is the love of Jesus. He lost himself when he gave himself up for us. And now, risen, he lives. He lives in us who are his body, the baptized who are animated by his Spirit. In us he has found his place for loving. The love that he commands he also gives. It lives -- he lives! -- restlessly within us, looking for Judas, searching for all the traitors out there in the night. We who are baptized and have lost ourselves in that Lord of ours now search out whomever it is that has become Judas for us that we might lose ourselves in the pain that he or she has inflicted upon us, or we have inflicted upon him or her. And in that losing ourselves, the Risen Christ promises us, we shall find ourselves. We shall live, and we shall find our real selves, loved, forgiven, and seated again as friend at the table with one who has betrayed me, or whom I have betrayed, one with whom I had lost the capacity to share humanity.

"By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have loved one another," Jesus said. Jesus gifts the world with his love by losing himself in this community which still has its agents out looking for Judas, a community restless forever with the love of the one who gave the new commandment the moment Judas left the room on a mission from which he still has not returned. If you would find God in this lonely world, then look for the community that has its messengers out searching the ditches and hedgerows for you, and for me. There you will find the love of God. There you will find God. There you will find yourself.

Will we ever find Judas? Will he ever sit again at his place? Only God knows. But we have reason to hope. Despite what all the other passages in the New Testament say, we can hope if for no other reason because of the promise in today's second lesson in Revelation 21. Some day, one day, when the New Jerusalem comes down out of heaven decked out like a bride approaching her breathless husband, God will set out a great marriage feast. God will throw the party to end all parties at which God will wipe away every tear. Then will end all mourning -- no more tears, no more pain.

Will Judas be present? Dare we hope that? I suspect we can. He will sit amongst all the rest of us who bear the scars of our own treachery beneath our white robes. For so long as Judas remains out there in the night, wandering alone or swinging lifeless in the breeze, there will be tears and aching in the community where his place is still set at the table, but where he does not sit. When he has been found, then I know that I, too, shall have been found, and forgiven, and loved.

The banquet is set before us. We remember once more that night of the new commandment, but also we look ahead to the day of its fulfillment. Let us celebrate the joy we have in sitting together as family, reconciled to each other, having lost ourselves but having also found ourselves in each other, and living in hope while waiting for the day when every place at our table will be filled. And let the people say, Amen.

************End of Niedner excerpts************

Link to a sermon making use of Niedner's work entitled "Searching for Judas."

5. Tom Truby, a member of Theology & Peace, used Girardian insights to offer a commentary on this text in 2012.

Reflections and Questions

1. John replaces the Synoptic account of the Last Supper with a story that is a perfect illustratration of positive mimesis. Jesus gives an example of the love commandment for disciples to imitate.

2. Maundy Thursday is often an occasion for First Communion in Lutheran congregations. In both 2001 and 2002 I preached sermons titled "The First First Communion Class" on such occasions.

3. Niedner's connection of Judas to the Love Commandment recalls the episode of Jesus and Peter around the charcoal fire (John 21). Jesus has a love for Peter that forgives his denial by giving him the opportunity to confirm his love three times in place of his previous threefold denial. Yet there is also the aspect of agape vs. philia love. Jesus urges Peter the first two times to love with agape love, to which Peter is seemingly only ready to respond with philia love. Jesus also forgives Peter by meeting him where he is at with philia love on the third time around.

The John 21 story also opens by indirectly noting Judas' absence: "Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples." Niedner's linking of Judas with the Love Commandment is an invitation to such an agape love that will not rest until every place at the table, or around the charcoal fire, is filled.

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