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Wednesday of Holy Week : A Sermon by Fr Stuart

 

At the beginning of this week I suggested that the way we see Jesus interact and respond to people in the Gospels is usually with great compassion. That wonderful compassion can also act as a criticism of the way we do things, a gentle criticism which reveals what we are really like and opens us up to new ways of approaching each other. There can be little doubt that Jesus challenges and encourages us to change and transformation.

He does this in a variety of ways. Firstly, through his radical ministry of forgiveness, where he dismisses the traditional institutional traditions and offers direct access to the heart of God. Secondly, through his miraculous healings which, he claims, it is more important to celebrate than observing the commandment to rest on the Sabbath. In both these cases people find that the release of forgiveness and the relief of healing are only outward symbols of a far deeper change that people find is taking place within them.

There is another tool that Jesus uses, and it is the one we are presented with tonight. Jesus uses the dinner table as the place to recognise the sort of transformation that God brings. Throughout the gospels we find Jesus eating with those whom everyone else labels as outcasts and sinners. He is not interested in observing the niceties of religious or social etiquette when it comes to sharing food and wine. He goes out of his way to identify with the embarrassing, the awkward, the weird and the unwanted. The message is not simply that we should do the same but, perhaps, that we should identify those bits of ourselves which we consider awkward, weird or unwanted, invite them to the table, listen to them and try and befriend them.

The radical generosity and compassion that Jesus shows at the dinner table is all the more highlighted by the exchange with Judas that we hear about tonight. Betrayal in such a context is hard to hear about. Dipping a piece of bread in the dish and passing it to someone was a sign of special friendship. It tells the beloved disciple who the betrayer will be but, more importantly, it reveals what the deepest dimension of the deed would be. It would be the betrayal of the intimate, close trust and friendship with Jesus.

This incident, we are told, somehow links Judas with Satan. The word, Satan, means ‘the accuser’. This deep betrayal of Jesus’ friendship is to happen through accusation and blame. And perhaps this is where the whole event touches us. The whole process of development, change and transformation in our lives is often stifled by our desire to stop and blame someone because things haven’t turned out as we had hoped. The world has not devoted itself to making us happy and we need to blame someone for that. Judas’ response is to open the door and disappear into the night. The opposite response is seen in the beloved disciple, John, who remains in the light and warmth of that dinner table, close to Jesus. I guess it is always like that in this life – on one hand joy and, on the other, pain and regret, the intimacy of friendship and the knife in the back. Maybe Jesus’ openness to the one meant he was bound to be open to the other as well. Maybe it is like that for us too.

Again, we are told that Jesus was troubled. There is no shame in this sort of anxiety; it is the anxiety humans feel when they are truly alive. It is the disquiet you get when you strive to love others, when you are open to deep friendship and to the serious wounds that only friends can give. As I said a few weeks ago, we hurt because we love. When we stop hurting, then we have probably forgotten how to love.

We will see the depth of Jesus’ love when we gather tomorrow to recall the embarrassing intimacy of the footwashing and that last supper when Jesus literally gives himself away. In the meantime we might wonder about the many wounds we have received, the badges and proofs that we have loved. We might think too about the wounds we have inflicted when we have betrayed intimacy and friendship. But above all, let us wonder that here, in the light, there is still a place for us around this table of friendship.

 

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