Holy Thursday of the Lord’s Supper (B); March 28, 2024

Ex 12:1-8,11-14.  Ps 116.  1 Cor 11:23-26.  Jn 13:1-5

Deacon Jim McFadden

            We begin the Triduum, the most sacred time of our liturgical calendar.  The Gospel has the account of the Washing of the Feet and St. Paul’s 1^st Letter to the Corinthians in which Jesus , surrounded by his Apostles, instituted the Eucharist and entrusted to us the commandment of love.  I would suggest that both of these are intertwined.

            To begin with, the 19^th century German philosopher Friedrich Hegel (cf. Phenomenology of Spirit), promoted the notion of the master-slave dialectic in which one’s sense of self-worth is directed at another who is unequal to oneself.  He is talking about very dark social relationships in which the ego seeks to be in control, to dominate others in order to obtain one’s needs, which means to obtain a position of privilege and keep others at bay.  So, the world is divided into insiders and outsiders; those who are on top and those who are down; those who are privileged and those who are marginalized.  Or, as Bruce Springsteen once sang, “Down here, it’s just winners and losers, and “Don’t get caught on the wrong side of that line” (Atlantic City from Nebraska). Those who are on the winning side, they want to keep things the way they are because the status quo works to their advantage.  So, the master-slave dialectic seems to work at all levels.

            Way before Hegel and the Boss, St. Augustine wrote about this syndrome in the 4^th century a.d.  He referred to it as the libido dominandi (cf. City of God, 1-5, chapter 2), which means “lust to dominate.”  He said that it was unnatural for human beings but is the mark of a dysfunctional society in which we’re not in right relationship with God, whereby we have a desire to dominate and control others.

            Now even before St. Augustine and Hegel et al, the authors of the Old Testament were concerned about this problem because their central story was the Exodus Experience, which was a movement from oppression to liberation, in which God identifies with the oppressed and resists the oppressor.  The great Passover event, which we heard in our first reading commemorates this liberation movement.  God, working through Moses, brings the people out of servitude and guides them to the Promised Land—a state of justice and human flourishing.  In so doing, God overcomes the master-slave dialectic, which is the central work of the God of Israel.

            Now, fast-forward 1200 years to Yeshua, Jesus of Nazareth around 33 a.d. who appears in the hills of Galilee.  On the lips of this young rabbi, though he was not formally trained in a rabbinic school, spoke as one having authority and his message was that the Kingdom of God was at hand.  That is, God’s way of ordering things is coming about, which is perfectly personified in Jesus.  What God has in mind in the way we organize ourselves is radically different from the master-slave dialectic.  What does Jesus have in mind when he proclaims and lives the Kingdom of God?

            The best source is the Sermon of the Mount in Matthew’s Gospel, chapters 5-7.  In the Kingdom they wouldn’t be hungering and thirsting for domination, but they should hunger and thirst for righteousness.  Rather than claw for the highest position, they should embrace the way of mercy, tenderness, and compassion.  Not stuck in the dreadful lex talonis, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth” ethic, but if someone slaps you on the right cheek, give him the other. If some takes your outer garment, give him your shirt as well.  If a Roman soldier presses you into service to carry his gear for one mile, give him two.  And, love, not just your neighbor, but your enemy as well.

            You see, the Kingdom of God is a radical overturning of the libido dominandi and all forms of the master-slave dialectic.  Look at the seating arrangements of banquets: Jesus tells the crowd don’t sit with the masters at the highest table place, but sit with the slaves at the lower table.  And, when you give a party, don’t invite the high and mighty who can pay you back, but invite the poor, the sick, and marginalized who won’t be able to reciprocate.  In sum, what Jesus is doing is overturning the master-slave dialectic.

            Okay, with that background in mind, let’s reflect on that strange Gospel reading we heard from St. John.  Jesus gathers with his inner circle of 12 Apostles at the climax of his physical life.  Jesus arises from the table, then does something very strange—so odd that we wonder about it 2000 years later.  He takes off his outer garment and puts a towel around his waist, a posture of a slave.  Then he proceeds to do something that is so lowly that only the lowest slave would be expected to do it.  He begins to wash their feet.

            Now, we’ve become used to it as a liturgical expression—it’s what we do on Holy Thursday—but we may overlook how unnerving this action was.  St. Peter was shocked.  Now Peter had left his family and occupation as a fisherman, he had heard Jesus teach and preach, had witnessed his miracles, but this was a bridge too far and he protested, “Lord, you will never wash my feet” (Jn 13:8a). 

            How does Jesus respond?  “Unless I wash you, you will have no inheritance with me” (v. 8b).  Just as the Israelites passed through the Red Sea, the Washing of the Feet seems like an initiation: Peter, do you want to be a member of the Kingdom of God that I am proclaiming?  Do you want to participate in this new way of being?  If so, you’ve got to pass through the waters of washing the feet of others.

            Now, we move from the Exodus Experience to the Washing of the Feet, to the wonderful second reading from Paul’s 1^st Letter to the Corinthians, which proclaims the Institution of the Eucharist.  Paul recalls what Jesus did “on the night he was handed over, took bread, and after he had given thanks, broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.  In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying “This cup is the new covenant of my blood.  Do this, as often as you drink it in remembrance of me” (1 Cor 11:23-25).

            This is the climax of Jesus’ public ministry, which will express the fulness of the Kingdom of God.  What does Jesus do when he sums up what his life  and ministry are all about?  He gives himself away!  “This is my body”—for a 1^st century Jew that meant this is me, this is my person.  “This is my blood”—everything I am is poured out for you.

            Brothers and sisters, it is these dynamics that we are invited into this liturgy tonight.  The Washing of the Feet is where the master becomes the slave.  Giving away the body and blood, this is our initiation into the dynamics of the Kingdom of God, which is why the Eucharist is the “fount and summit” of our worship and life.

            So, the question which I think Holy Thursday poses to us is how can we contrive to make our lives of self-giving generosity a fit in all of our relationships?  How can we contrive to take, not the highest place, but the lowest?  How can we contrive to undermine the dynamics of the master-slave dialectic and give ourselves away.  Amen.