Maundy Thursday 2004

A chill wind blows through the events commemorated by this evening’s Liturgy.  Death and uncertainty is all around.  The atmosphere of danger is built up by the Gospel accounts, like the background music of a film.  Of course, we have all seen the film before and we know what happens; but that just serves to heighten our sensitivity to the significance and poignancy of the unfolding drama.

Like all life, it is a confusion of individual stories that combine and feed of one another to create a momentum that is beyond the control of any one player – or even perhaps all of them acting in concert.

When I studied for my history O level, one of the big topics was the causes of the First World War.  The murder of Archduke Ferdinand may have been the trigger for aggression, but in reality it would have happened anyway.  No one strand on its own would have been sufficient, but the miasma of political development in Europe in the first decade of the twentieth century rendered it inevitable. 

In a similar way, it is impossible to unravel the threads of this story to find the culprit in this evening’s story.  Christ’s life and teaching challenged the abusive and often brutal tyranny that was endemic at all levels of society.  There was a crescendo of a response from those who benefited from the precarious balance that had evolved in Palestine.

The paranoid Pilate, aware, perhaps, that Rome was losing confidence in his abilities also played a part.  From a theoretical point of view, he could, of course, have halted the whole process.  However, the realpolitik of the occasion probably fettered his options more than retrospect easily reveals

The much-vilified Caiaphas was desperate to rein in the unrest that was threatening the delicate truce that the Jews uniquely enjoyed in the Roman Empire.  His perception must have been that his first responsibility was to the establishment of which he was the head.  It is easy to judge him, but a leader who has not had to face the prospect of sacrificing one person for the greater good from time to time is indeed a fortunate person. 

The disappointed affection and loyalty of Judas led to a powerful and destructive passion, which had to be assuaged.  It would probably be ironic for him that we always focus, rather, on his act of betrayal.

I am sure, furthermore, that there is much that is now lost to history.  The clinical accounts suggest people making deliberate, considered and ruthless choices.  However, in the tense situation, it is far more likely that all the players were motivated more by near panic at the developing crisis.  What we see from it all is how destructive it can be when disparate interests come together and are forced to find a resolution.  

The problem arises because folks are intent on shaping the society around them to ensure their own advantage.  When they succeed, the rights of others are compromised to make way for the dominant interest.  The Romans ruled their empire for their own glory and economic prosperity; the priestly classes in Jerusalem conducted themselves in a way that protected their own prestige and creature comforts.  It created a culture that rested on suppression of one sort or another.  Along the way, of course, the enterprise of vanquishment encounters immovable obstacles and some accommodation is made, as was the case with the Roman rule in Palestine; but usually that is only a temporary expedient until some manoeuvre is devised to overcome the problem – as was later the case with imperial hegemony in the Holy Land.

It is a pattern that recurs with relentless consistency throughout history as empires rise to satisfy a hunger for power and riches well beyond what is actually necessary for a comfortable life.  The world community is seen as a resource to be plundered and exploited.

In the midst of this miasma of competing interests, Jesus Christ eats His Last Supper with His closest associates.  In contradistinction to the lust for power and self-advantage that is seething all around Him, He speaks of humility and self-sacrifice.

As He stoops to wash the feet of His disciples, He demonstrates that the interests of the community are to be served and sustained for the good of all, not hijacked for the benefit of the few.  Our attitude to the society of which we are a part should be characterised by a search for how we can contribute to its strengthening, rather than constant efforts to wring from it ever more rights and rewards.

For Christ, leadership in the human arena demands service of one’s fellows even to the point of personal disadvantage and self-sacrifice.  Glory, wealth and power actually denote a failure of human society, because, being bought at the price of another’s share, they undermine the equal dignity of every human being. 

We have learnt to demonise Judas for his failure to grasp this truth, beholden as he probably was to the prospect of a violent assault on those who suppressed the ordinary people of Israel.  However, Saint Peter also demurred as Christ stooped to wash his feet – he, too, had been unable to appreciate the implications of the teaching that he had daily heard, perhaps for three years.

It is a hard lesson for any of us to learn.  We live in a world where personal worth is measured by the degree to which we control an inequitable share of wealth and influence.  We look to our leaders to be rich and flamboyant, not so much for the contentment it might bring them, but because it raises the prospect that we might have some share in their apparent success.

Yet as we see this evening, all such enterprises are precarious.  Built as they are on foundations of the misery of others, they are continually vulnerable to the slightest challenge – in this case one man with a gift for oratory.  However, their instability undermines much more than just the organisation concerned.  The collapse of power can release havoc that overwhelms the weak and innocent every bit as much as the magnates it is toppling.

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