Maundy Thursday
More than the other evangelists, St John seeks to help us penetrate inside Our Lord’s dispositions as He prepares Himself to suffer His passion. He commences his description of the last hours of Our Blessed Lord’s life with these words: Jesus, knowing that His hour was come, that He should pass out of this world to the Father: having loved His own who were in the world, He loved them unto the end (Jn 13:1). Two verses later he adds: Knowing that the Father had given Him all things into His hands and that He came from God and goeth to God, He riseth from supper and layeth aside his garments and, having taken a towel, girded himself… and began to wash the feet of the disciples (Jn 13:3-5). From these two verses, we can gather two fundamental truths: Our Lord knew exactly what awaited Him, and He loved. For this evening, let’s tarry somewhat, considering what John is trying to convey to us by saying that He loved to the end.
What does it mean to love to the end? The first meaning is that He loved to the end of His earthly life, unfailingly, always, meaning that no change in His circumstances might alter or even diminish that love. He loves forever and ever. The second meaning is that He loved them with an extreme love, with perfection, to the utmost capacities of a human heart, with the highest possible degree of love, even to the absolute summit and consummation of love. He always loved His disciples this way, of course, but as He goes to suffer death for them, He brings the manifestation of this to its perfection by washing their feet, instituting the Eucharist and exhorting them with words of fire, inflaming them to love in return with all their strength and with absolute constancy.
While the first meaning is the most obvious and literal, the second is pregnant with a much deeper power to transform us from the inside. It means this: while Jesus was on the verge of suffering the most cruel torments, this did not diminish His love; rather, it increased. He loved to the end, to the extreme, not turning away from any of the sufferings that awaited Him, some of which were from His most trusted disciples (Judas who betrayed Him, Peter who denied Him, all the apostles who ran away in the moment of crisis). Humans are capable of suffering many physical torments, but the torment that comes from the betrayal or the abandonment of the closest friends is one that few can endure. The natural tendency of the human heart that is broken by betrayal is to cease to love, to refuse to give what was so badly appreciated and deserves to be lost.
On the other hand, our Lord does not let this logic of justice overcome Him. His is another kind of logic. It is the logic of unfailing love, even for those who are the cause of torment, even for those who had received so much and on whom one would think He could count, even for those who did not deserve it. It’s as if Our Blessed Lord’s love increases with the measure of suffering. The more pain inflicted upon Him, the more He replies with selfless love and mercy.
This attitude astounds us. It leaves us wondering how it is possible. We do not understand. We quickly resort to appeals to justice and to the punishment of such wickedness that could lead to betrayal. Jesus, for His part, will not deny the treacherous kiss of Judas; He even calls him “Friend” in a final attempt to touch the traitor’s heart. In a similar fashion, He turns to look mercifully and compassionately at Peter, who has just denied Him three times, the last time with an oath. He forgives his executioners at the very moment when they are pounding the spikes into His sacred hands and feet. He loves to the end. How is it possible? Is there never a time when we can say: Enough! Is there never a moment when we can revolt and fight back? Is there never a day when we can walk out and tell everyone to go to hell?
All of us have had moments when we felt like doing just that. Most of us have had moments when we did just that. We were convinced it was just, and perhaps it was. The weakness of our bodies and our hearts simply had no more to offer, and we gave up. We were at our wits’ end, and there was nothing more for it. They deserved it, and they got it. We were right.
So it goes with fallen humanity. We have limitations, and sometimes we burst. Does it have to be this way? Is there another answer? Is there a way out of this spiral of violence? There is, and it is given to us tonight. It is to love to the end, unfailingly, in spite of the consequences. But our hearts are so small, so constrained; so quickly are they rent asunder. Yes, the Lord knows this. This is why He gave us the means to imitate Him, and He did so by the two things He offers us on this holy night.
The first is the example of His own suffering, His sacred Passion. By pondering the Passion of Our Lord, we find strength to go that unjust extra mile, to turn that other cheek, and to stay and endure instead of running away when the going gets tough. By pondering Our Lord kneeling and sweating blood for three long hours, we learn how to pray in times of darkness instead of running off to some worthless fleshly or worldly distraction. By meditating upon Him attached to that pillar and being ruthlessly flogged as one would never treat even an animal, we learn to mortify our flesh and accept the hardships that come our way, knowing they will never compare to His. By contemplating His sacred Head crowned with those long, sharp thorns, we are moved to accept the humiliations that are sometimes heaped upon us so viciously, so unfairly. As we see Him carry that cross that would have crushed stronger men, falling under it but getting back up, we are inspired never to run away from our crosses but to bear them manfully and to get back on our feet when we fall. As we ponder Him hanging on the cross of torment, refusing to put an end to it all, speaking words of compassion and mercy to the very end, in all this, we are given inspiration to love to the end, to the extreme limits and even beyond.
The Lord knew, however, that the simple memory of His passion would not be enough for most of us. That is why He instituted the Most Blessed Sacrament, the living memorial of His Passion, in which all that Christ suffered is contained and re-enacted. When we feel we can take no more, when we want to give up and run away, when our patience seems to have reached its limit, and we have no more love to offer, then we must go to Jesus in the Holy Eucharist. There, in the Heart of the totus Christus passus – Christ with all His sufferings, we find invariably the love that we ourselves do not have, but which He enables us to receive by means of His grace and which He gives in abundance to those who ask without failing, to those who knock and wait for the gate to open, to those who seek and don’t give up until they find. None of this is possible on our own, but it is there for the asking, as the lives of many saints bear witness. As the Father hath loved me, I also have loved you. Abide in my love (Jn 15:9). Greater love than this no man hath, that a man lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends, if you do the things that I command you (Jn 15:13-14). I have given you an example, that as I have done for you, so you do also (Jn 13:15).
