Maundy Thursday 2005

The Gospel tradition codified in the canonical texts comes at an interesting point where the personal memories are still available to the authors, but at the same time there is sufficient distance for the process of theological reflexion on those events to have begun.

A case in point is the figure of Judas Iscariot.  The pain inflicted by his betrayal of Christ is still evident, though whether it was all motivated by his fingers having been in the till is open to discussion.  It is hard to believe that, in a police state such as that which was Israel under Roman occupation, his treachery contributed much to what was clearly inevitable; and yet the venom with which he is remembered strongly suggests some grievous act.

In the Gospel accounts, however, there is more than simply a recollection of Judas’s misdemeanour.  In pursuit of his collusion, he leaves the fellowship of the Last Supper, dismissed by Christ.  His betrayal of his master is incompatible with participation at the Eucharistic table: physically, of course, he could not be both in the Upper Room and in Caiaphas’s office, spilling the beans; but at a deeper level his heart was no longer with Jesus: our Lord’s dismissal of him was just a verbalization of that on which he had already set his purpose.  It was, perhaps, the first excommunication of the Christian generations.

Excommunication is a powerful, perhaps the ultimate sanction of the Christian Church, which has been used and abused at various times.  Essentially, it says to the person concerned, “by your actions, you no longer belong;” and that is a very grave judgement to make.  What more damning indictment can there be in a community that recognizes its imperfections before God that an individual’s conduct has betrayed her or his Master to the point where their membership cannot continue?  Properly administered, it should merely be a formalization of what, at a fundamental level, already is.

Nowadays, we do not speak so much of excommunication – well not in the Anglican Communion.  In stead, we place ourselves in a state of impaired Communion, either by withdrawing from the Altars of others or excluding them from ours.  We cannot technically excommunicate, because there is no central authority to impose such a sanction, so we go for the de facto equivalent.

In so doing, we should be aware of the full significance of what we are doing.  In fracturing the bonds of Holy Communion, we are making a judgement that what others have done is so serious as to constitute a betrayal of Christ of an order and magnitude, which is well beyond the scope of the human frailty that characterises the lives of everyone of us: that they have, in fact, already walked away from Christ in their hearts.  It is a bold step to take, for wrongly to break the unity of the Body of Christ is itself a betrayal of our Master, who prayed that we should all be one.

The oneness of the Church should – must - embrace the legitimate diversity of humanity as created by God.  Building walls against that which is simply beyond our experience or what we find uncongenial is a frivolity and self-indulgence, which should have no place in the Catholic Church.

The tendency to impose confines on the ecclesiastical character beyond that which is laid down in the Gospel of Jesus Christ is nothing to do with humble service, but the exercise of power – who is rich enough or sufficiently powerful or possessing the necessary political skills to impose their personal preferences on the Church as a whole.  This, of itself, is a betrayal of the Master we serve.

In the Gospel this evening, re-enacted in the rite that follows this sermon, we find the antithesis of this deployment of power.  In stooping to wash the feet of His companions, Christ abases Himself, deferring to the gathered individuals.  If, as some suggest, there is in this an allusion to Baptism, then He incorporates into His Body, those who will later desert Him at the time of His greatest loneliness.  For those who have missed the point, Jesus explicitly states that this is a model of relationships within the Christian community.

This humility of service, as much as the consecration of bread and wine, is the stuff of the Last Supper.  As we know, Saint John does not include an account of the meal itself.  It is presupposed; and in its place is the illustration of its significance for the Church.  The washing of feet and the New Commandment to love one another as He has loved us bring to the surface that which is implicit in the celebration of the Mass.

Once we have taken this into account, we can usefully re-assess what actually is happening when the bonds of Communion begin to crumble.  Proximity to the Altar table or even having the Sacrament locked away in our tabernacle might lull us into a false sense of security.

If, as we must, we understand the Mass as not just as a rite, but as the embodiment of a relationship with one another and with Christ, we might wonder, in the midst of the struggle, which of us actually finds ourselves leaving the fellowship by our actions – which of us behaves in such a way that is compatible with participation in the Eucharistic fellowship – Whom Christ actually dismisses from the room?

There is, on the other hand, a very different way of looking at all this.

The bonds of fellowship denoted by participation in the Eucharist are consecrated not by our own prerogative, but by Christ’s Presence.  No matter how many Masses are celebrated this evening, it is the same Christ that is present at them all.  Whether or not we care to think about it, our fractious nature is overcome by His overarching will that we should not fall apart – we are held together in Him.

From this perspective, impairment of Communion is just a matter of not going to one another’s parties, closing our eyes to the Truth that in Christ we are all one.  As people who claim to seek after truth, it is not appropriate that we construct fantasy worlds where we can pretend that things are as we would like them to be.  Rather, it falls to us to engage with the uncomfortable truth that there is room in God’s love not only for us, but also for those whom we don’t really like and whose presence is uncongenial.

This is a foundational tenet of the Church and it is not for others to have to leave the table when we cannot accept it.

Home page: http://stmatthewsnewcastle.org.uk/