The Dark Side of Maundy Thursday

"Little children, yet a little while I am with you. You will seek me, and just as I said to the Jews, so now I also say to you, 'Where I am going you cannot come.' A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:33-35 ESV)

As days on the church calendar go, I suspect that from 1522 on, Maundy Thursday was probably not one of Martin Luther's favorites. In 1521, Luther experienced a total eclipse of the pope (really, by the pope)-- excommunication from the Roman Catholic Church-- as German church historian Martin Brecht explains in this excerpt from his book Martin Luther: Shaping and Defining the Reformation, 1521-1532:

Every Maundy Thursday the pope announced the excommunication of heretics and named as well the external enemies of the papacy. For this purpose he issued a special papal bull which the bishops were required to publish. In 1521, for the first time, the name of the excommunicated Luther and his followers were included in it, along with the Wycliffites, Hussites, and Fraticelli. Luther must have received this bull at the end of 1521. He reprinted the bull with marginal notes and commentary in German translation under the title Bulla Coenae Domini, i.e. Bull of the Supper-devouring Most Holy Lord, the Pope, attaching to it an exposition of Psalm 10, a lament over the insolence of his enemies, as a gloss of David on this bull. He demanded, under penalty of excommunication, that it should be printed in capital letters only. His ridicule was occasioned by the fact that those mentioned in the bull could not be released even by an indulgence, but only by the pope himself. According to Luther, the document could have been written only by one who was drunk "while devouring the supper." It was not difficult for him to denounce the unspiritual, egotistic, blasphemous character of the pope’s curses. Characteristically, Luther saw the real verdict on the bull expressed in Psalm 10. The pope’s tyranny, which showed how far he was from God, was a punishment of the people of God for their ingratitude.Тhе godless pope burned those who were alleged heretics; forgetting God, he acted self-confidently according to his own will.

Even in the barely-discernible shadow of the Reformation madness of 495 years ago, Lutherans and other Christians are traditionally reminded of the brighter side of this day in devotions and at worship services-- Jesus' act of humility and servitude in His washing of the disciples' feet in chapter 13 of John's Gospel. Pastors and popes alike help us find the answer to Peter's question in verse 6: "Lord, do you wash my feet?" If we listen closely, we hear the answer in Jesus' words as recorded by John near the end of this chapter, in verse 34: "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another." Maundy Thursday should be a reminder that Jesus' life, death, and resurrection are all about love, a concept so central to our relationship with Him that He made it a commandment. Mandatum novum do vobis.

Yet, Maundy Thursday is much more than the washing of feet. Today is Good Friday Eve. Tomorrow Jesus will die.

The same chapter in John's Gospel touches the dark heart of the matter at hand in the almost Hamlet-esque intrigue of betrayal, death, and denial, all foretold by Jesus in one sitting. (Even Satan makes a cameo appearance.)  On this day we want to believe! We want to believe that one of Jesus' hand-picked disciples could not possibly sell out for 30 pieces of silver (about $300 today). We want to believe that a divine Jesus could find a more palatable way to return to the Father. We want to believe that those closest to him will not abandon Him like rats from a sinking ship tomorrow. And, truth be told, who wants to wash another person's feet? No other day on the church calendar places such a mirror on the human condition. 

Yes, Maundy Thursday has a dark side. There's a pall about this day in the church year, though maybe not as pronounced as for Luther in 1522. The sinner in me barely notices; the saint in me knows I've put it there.