Thursday, April 13, 2006

Why is this night different from any other night?

That I pick for Holy Thursday the question that Jews pose to their children at the Passover seder should require no explanation. We need not concern ourselves with whether The Last Supper was truly a Passover seder or only a chaburah meal, marking a formal gathering of spiritual friends of a kind well-known in the Judaism of Jesus' time. What makes tonight different is that the institution of the Eucharist on this night marks the Passover of the Lord and equips us for our own.

That is often overlooked on a day when the focus is very often on all the controversies surrounding the ministerial priesthood and the liturgy. Too many of those about the former concern sex and gender; too many of those about the latter are matters of taste. Both tend to distract in the wrong hands, i.e., the usual hands. The real significance of tonight is that the Old Covenant is fulfilled in the New with the manna that is the Eucharist. That food is God himself in the flesh, given so that we might each be nourished on our exodus from slavery to sin into the glorious freedom of being his children.

The Gospel reading tonight was John 13: 1-15. Lay people sometimes wonder why St. John, unlike the Synoptics and even St. Paul (1 Corinthians 11: 23-26), does not mention the actual institution of the Eucharist, and presents instead Jesus' washing of the Apostles' feet and a long "priestly prayer" that almost certainly is a literary interpretation of what was actually said. Scholars who lack faith sometimes argue that this shows how John's community thought the main tradition needed correction. But there is neither a mystery nor a problem with such a substitution. John is presupposing the standard account of the Eucharist's institution and is, rather, offering a more mature theology of it for the instruction of the Church.

It's amazing that, for the most part, Christians still don't take in such instruction. In the way members of the Church interact with each other as such, I rarely see the humility and sacrificial love Jesus modelled on that night. Those virtues are often shown within families and between friends, but not to people merely because they are brothers and sisters in the Lord. That lack must be filled if the Church is to survive as an intentional community. To that end, let us hearken to Jesus' "priestly prayer" (John 17) and become what we receive at the Eucharist.

2 comments:

  1. Anonymous10:37 AM

    Without resort to big-picture generalizations like "Original Sin," what do you think stops us from moving toward expressing the "humility and sacrificial love Jesus modelled on that night" beginning in at least small ways to fellow parishioners?

    Given how much emotional neediness threads through our communities, are we afraid of being taken advantage of? On the order of what used to be whispered in one religions boarding school, "if you're nice to X, you've had it."

    Is it regarding ourselves as too busy, or do we guard our resources of money and time so tightly we won't spare even small amounts? Not even unguarded friendliness?

    I'm working on designing a proposal for a volunteer roster for my own parish, and a goal very important to me is avoiding creating a cadre of the dreary dutiful overburdened obligated. Putting aside counsels of perfection and giving opportunities for a small even joyous step toward expressing love and appreciation.

    I mean this as a serious question, Michael, what stops us? And what's a risky but do-able first step that you could recommend?

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  2. dilys:

    From the fact that we must show forth God's love to one another, and that God's love has no limits, it does not follow that our showing forth of God's love has no limits. We are earthen vessels, easily drained and only a little less easily broken. As usual, balance is needed.

    For the legion of lonely, sick, poor, or otherwise hurting among our fellow parishioners, it is often enough that each one gets genuinely befriended by another not so needy. But even there, limits must be drawn.

    My own outreach has been to the homeless, who are usually that way because of addiction or mental illness. In New York 20 years ago, I filled in as manager on holidays at an overnight parish shelter run by a priest I knew. But as I was married and commuting to another city thrice weekly, it was only on holidays. A few years ago when I had my own apartment in Greensboro, NC, I took in a homeless lady living in my parish. It went fine for a month, but her mental illness eventually manifested itself as delusion about her circumstances and paranoia about me. After two months, she paid me $100,the total amount she paid me. (I didn't expect or ask for even that.) She then claimed she had bought my television and was having her rent covered by a mysterious boyfriend in Chicago. Then she went to her old neighboorhood to fetch her dog, which was flea-ridden and left my apartment in similar shape. I finally told her to go to the shelter, which I would arrange. She accused me of stealing from her and called the police. After a few minutes of listening to each side of the story, they took her to the shelter. Apparently she was well-known to county officials.

    As a single man at that point, I could deal with such risk and disruption; but many people cannot. Yet there are many little things anybody can do: joint prayer, outtings, food baskets, occasional help with utilities or transportation, etc. Parishes ought to be set up for such things, and a few are. Often enough, just showing friendly interest in a newcomer is enough pro tempore. It's surprising how infrequent even that much is. So many Catholic parishes are just plain cold and clubby.

    The key is for the pastor, by prayer, preaching, and example, to get everybody involved, especially the youth.

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