Bear in mind, dear reader, that this post, like all the
posts on this blog, has been supplied by one of the Ringwood Unitarians - and not necessarily always the same one. It should not be assumed that any other Ringwood
Unitarian, or any Unitarian from anywhere, thinks or feels the same as this. Or
that the rest of our Ringwood group are even interested in this train of
thought. That’s the beauty of any Unitarian
community – we worship and we connect, but we don’t expect each other to think
about the same things or to think or feel in the same way.
It’s Maundy Thursday today.
That’s the day of the Jewish Passover.
The rabbi Jesus and his friends had gone to Jerusalem for the Passover
festival, for the celebratory worship of the just and merciful God, who allowed
the Hebrew slaves in Egypt to escape the deaths overnight of the first-born,
which God inflicted on the then unresponsive and cruel slave masters, the
Egyptians. It is the festival that
recognises that God, or Life, will act kindly towards people who act in
accordance with the edicts that God, or Life, demands. This recognition is portable from Judaism
right through all the faiths, right across the spectrum of faiths, even to an
oriental belief system that shies a long way away from the Jewish idea of a “personal
God”, by which I mean Taoism. Passover,
or pesach, is a festival for all
those who have had a good experience of their faith.
So Jesus and his friends and family sat down to the Passover
meal, the seder meal, to quietly
await the arrival of the next day, the commemoration of the day when Hebrews
woke up to find that God’s word had been carried out – so the Egyptians were
shocked and frightened to find their first-borns had died and the Hebrews now
had to get out of Egypt very quickly.
And over that seder
meal Jesus seemed to be very sure that his time was coming to an end. Perhaps he too was shocked and frightened; or
perhaps he thought that within a day or two it would be his followers who would
be shocked and frightened. You see, he
had been in Jerusalem since the previous Sunday and he was aware that all sorts
of people had all sorts of expectations of him that he would not necessarily
fulfil. Some people wanted him to renounce some of the things he had said about
his relationship to God. Others wanted
him to lead a zealous and possibly armed rebellion against the Roman occupying
forces. A few others seemed to think he
was bigging up his part as a wise man with a following, at the cost of wasting
money that could better have been spent on supporting the poor. Jesus got the vibes. He knew the show-down was coming. So he spent some time that evening over the
meal reflecting back to his followers what it was that he stood for, and asking
them to remember his words always – by tying them inextricably with the bread
and wine of the seder meal, which he
knew they would celebrate year after year, so they would have no excuse to
forget them.
And in my reading of it, the message of Jesus was this. We are in a covenant with God – which was an
old Jewish message. We are in a
relationship, said Jesus, a relationship we cannot own or control – it’s a
connection we can enter. We are loved
into being, we are all sustained by love throughout our lives, and we are
received in love at our ending. Jesus lived as if it were both task and
gift to strive to echo that love, right up until his life's end.
The kingdom of God, said Jesus, this relationship, the way
to lasting life lived true to our best selves, lies within; and it is
accessible to all. But to find that
kingdom, to enter into that ultimate relationship with the just and loving God,
you have to be prepared to let go of yourself and act in all humility. As though you and your wants and desires were
all just by-the-bye, scarcely relevant at all.
Jesus demonstrated that he thought everyone, including the most
acclaimed ones amongst us, need to see ourselves as fit for the most unpleasant
and menial jobs; like taking off the sandals and washing the dusty, smelly feet
of our companions after a day on the Galilean plains; like taking without
comment an unwarranted slap across the face; like carrying the load of someone
who chose to press us into service against our plans and expectations – and not just the mile they demand of us, but an
extra mile too.
My message, said Jesus, is that we have to try to mirror God
– who is in all people, including the most disadvantaged and disregarded, the
ones cast out by the establishment, and the ones who self-injure by getting
knotted up in their pain and difficulty.
The kingdom really is there to be experienced, but you have to work very
hard to put yourself last, to put yourself gracefully out of everyone else’s
way, and to be prepared – despite your fear – to relinquish your own comfort
and control over what is happening to you.
Look, said Jesus, I mean we have to relinquish our own safety and
comfort right up to the most painful and bitter end. Right when it hurts most, right when we don’t
think we can go on, we have to stand quietly in trust, and surrender ourselves in
all humility to Life, to God – both in his direct presence as we feel it, and as
we feel it coming to us through other people.
Love the very people who cause you grief and pain because God is in them too – it’s the only way to be fully human.
I can’t imagine the power of the inspiration Jesus had
experienced. But I can see what a strong
man he was. What serenity and peace and
fulfilment he found in his love for God and others. How disregarding he was of himself. And, though at the end even Jesus felt
abandoned, I can see that that didn’t prevent him from offering himself to God. What a model.
So this Maundy Thursday I celebrate the life and message of
the rabbi Jesus with the unleavened bread and the wine of the thanksgiving seder meal.