In a darkening age, the question of the Maundy

On my way out the door with MsDawg to attend our church’s Maundy Thursday service, I thought I’d reprint one of my all-time favorite diaries tonight. Maundy Thursday is certainly the most misunderstood Christian holy day, yet also one of the very most meaningful to progressive Christians such as myself. May we all fight with — and for — love,  today and every day.

In remembrance of me heal the sick
In remembrance of me feed the poor
In remembrance of me open the door
And let your brother in, let him in

In remembrance of me search for truth
In remembrance of me always love
In remembrance of me don't look above
But in your heart, in your heart
Look in your heart for God

In Remembrance of Me, Ragan Courtney and Buryl Red

(Presbyterian hymn 521)

In this, an age of hatred and xenophobia ascendant, perhaps no other Christian holiday is as misunderstood or as widely ignored as is Maundy Thursday (celebrated tonight). And yet I would argue that, for progressive Christians, it is the central message of our faith.

Tucked into the liturgical calendar seemingly almost as an afterthought between the pageantry of Christmas and the finery of Easter, Maundy Thursday is a time not for celebration, but for deep discomfort. It marks the Last Supper...a fragile condemned man’s last meal with friends, in which he searches for the words with which to leave them forever. He delivers these words not from a mountaintop but, rather, on his knees, while humbling himself in the act of washing their feet. “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you.”

This is the maundy (an archaic word meaning ‘command’) for which the day is named: Love one another.

In my church, as in many others around the world, the Maundy Thursday service ends in an utterly devastating display, one that never fails to reduce me to tears. As a single cantor intones, the pastors and elders move silently about the sanctuary, removing all of its finery. Candles are snuffed and carried away. The season’s brightly colored banners and cloths are taken down, solemnly folded, and removed from the room. Crosses are hidden under black drapes. All the while, the lights are slowly dimmed and, with the cantor’s last words, extinguished, leaving the congregants sitting silently in darkness. Many interpretations of this ritual are possible. My own is that the profound, terrible, empty darkness we congregants find ourselves left in is the darkness of a world without Love.

Maundy Thursday poses the ultimate question of human life: Which do you choose — love, or hatred?

Choose love.