Meditations on Maundy Thursday

I love Ash Wednesday, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday. But Danny… What about Easter Sunday? Yeah, I like that too, but I’m more of a Lenten season kind of guy than an Easter Sunday kind of guy. The celebration of Easter Sunday would be nothing without the lament, mourning, silent contemplation, reverence, and awe of the days leading up to it. The light of Easter Sunday shines most brightly when it is contrasted with the darkness of the Lenten season. The more terrible the darkness, the more glorious the light.
On the night of Maundy Thursday, I went to a service in the Old City where we took Communion and then walked out of the city to the Mt. of Olives to mediate on the betrayal of Christ. And I don’t think my mind and my imagination have ever been more stirred by the spirit. Never have I been more in tune with the mind of Christ and the disciples, thinking and feeling that fateful night. I had such agonizingly glorious thoughts that my words will only be a shadow of them.
As we left the Church after our remembrance of the Passover feast and headed for the Mt. of Olives, I could see it all so clearly. Truly I was walking in the footsteps of Christ. I imagined myself a disciple, following Jesus to the solitude of the Mt. of Olives. I could hear their conversation, whispering to each other as Jesus walked silently in front of them. The questions that must have follow that Passover meal! The bread is his body and the wine is his blood? Are we cannibals? New covenant? The only covenant we know is the one from Mt. Sinai. And why are we going to the Mt. of Olives? We just came from there. Why are we leaving the city? It’s been days; we should have overthrown the city by now. Jesus is the Messiah, what is he waiting for? And what was all that talk about betrayal? Surely not! Why did he say, “Where I am going you cannot follow me”? For three years we have followed him. We are his loyal disciples; we would follow him to the depths of hell. Are we going outside the city to plan our attack? Why hasn’t Judas returned? He was only going to buy food for the feast, and we will need him when the Messiah rises up. This has been a strange Passover, unlike the last couple we have shared with him.
Meanwhile, I could only imagine the war being silently fought in the mind of Jesus as he walked to the Mt. of Olives to fulfill the Scriptures. He was in a completely different world than the disciples, for he knew the pain that was to come. His eyes have been fixated on this moment ever since the transfiguration, ever since the incarnation, ever since the foundations of universe were laid! And now the time has come for the Son of Man to deliver himself into the hands of men. The stage has been set for the greatest slaughter in human history.
What could have been going through the mind of Christ as he walked to Gethsemane? Surely it was an inconceivable agony to a point greater than death. And last Thursday, as I walked under the full moon, I could almost feel it. The fear and the anguish screaming inside of him, but if he loses his composure now, all will be lost. The shortness of his breath as he descended into the Kidron Valley and the heaviness in his legs as he climbed the Mt. of Olives. Every step seeming like an impossibility, but somehow he took another, and another, and another. The night air was cool, but the sweat of his inner garment was soon to be mingled with the drops of blood falling on his outer garment. And telling his disciples to keep watch and pray, Jesus disappears into the olive grove of Gethsemane. Now, the real battle begins. Alone, he staggers through the garden, the fresh scent of flowers and trees filling the air, but only the stench of death fills his nostrils. Eventually his legs give out, and falling to the dirt he cries, “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.”
Now is his moment of greatest temptation. He is alone, outside the city, on the Mt. of Olives, he could easily escape down the backside of the mountain and within minutes be in the emptiness of the Judean wilderness. Nobody would ever be able to find him. One of the most inconceivable things Jesus ever did was rise from his knees and return to his disciples in Gethsemane. How could he possess such courage and strength? What kind of man is this? How is that even possible? Well, according to Hebrews 12, “For the joy set before him, he endured the cross.” But what joy? How could there be any joy in this moment? What is the joy that caused Jesus to return to the sleeping disciples and not flee to the wilderness? I would say that it was the promise of future joy that allowed Christ to suffer the cross. A hope in future joy. Presently, there would be only pain and sorrow, but he was not without the hope of an everlasting future joy. He was not blinded by the moment because he had the perspective of the promises of the Father. He could endure the cross with joy because his death meant the reconciliation of creation back to God. It meant that God was just and his wrath was satisfied. It meant victory over the grave and a propitiation for the sins of all those born of God. And it meant not only clemency, but also the perfect righteousness of Christ. For that joy, Christ felt the sting of Judas’ kiss, so that we would never have to feel the sting of death.

Hoping in future joy,
Danny