Remembering the Past...
        Planning the Future

    Park Christian Church
                                                                    (Disciples of Christ)

 April 9, 2009

Maundy Thursday Sermon

Floyds Knobs Christian Church

Matthew 26:17-25

            On the first day of Unleavened Bread the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Where do you want us to make the preparations for you to eat the Passover?”  He said, “Go into the city to a certain man, and say to him, ‘The Teacher says, My time is near; I will keep the Passover at your house with my disciples.’”  So the disciples did as Jesus had directed them, and they prepared the Passover meal.

            When it was evening, he took his place with the twelve; and while they were eating, he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me.”  And they became greatly distressed and began to say to him one after another, “Surely not I, Lord?”  He answered, “The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me.  The Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed!  It would have been better for that one not to have been born.”  Judas, who betrayed him, said, “Surely not I, Rabbi?”  He replied, “You have said so.”

            Let me stop there for a moment.  Did you notice that Judas, the man who had already betrayed Jesus, said, “Surely not I, Rabbi?”  All of the other disciples had called Jesus “Lord” as they questioned in their hearts if they could possibly be capable of betraying their master.  Judas called him, simply, Rabbi.  The others called him “Lord”.

            Judas.  Judas Iscariot.  It is perplexing what the human heart can accomplish for evil.

            On May 28, 1980, Robert Lee Willie and Joseph Vaccaro committed unspeakable crimes against two teenage girls and a boy down near New Orleans, Louisiana.  They were murderers and worse.  In addition to these heinous acts, Robert Willie had killed one other man in a dispute over drugs and then killed a police officer.

            Accordingly, the State of Louisiana found him guilty of several felony crimes and sentenced him to die by execution in the electric chair.  His new address became the state penitentiary at Angola.

            Now, I tell you about Robert Lee Willie because he became the subject of a Catholic nun’s interest.  Sister Helen Prejean, like many faithful Christians, is opposed to the death penalty.  But, unlike many for whom it is an abstract idea, Sister Prejean took it upon herself to get to know a couple of men on death row so as to get a deeper understanding.

            Without excusing the man’s crimes, or even seeking his freedom—she did believe a guilty man deserved punishment, and that a society required justice—she also allowed herself to know Robert Willie as a human being.  She sent him a letter to introduce herself and ask if he would be willing to have her as a spiritual advisor.

            Robert Willie responded back:  Sure, come on.  Never been inclined much to church and religion but I wouldn’t at all mind the visits.

            And so began a relationship between the woman committed entirely to God and the man committed entirely to capital punishment as his fate.  And you can read about it in Sister Prejean’s book Dead Man Walking.

            It is customary in states that administer the death penalty to offer a sentenced inmate certain pleasantries before the very end.  Nothing extravagant.  But, certain of life’s joys may be experienced just before justice is executed.  One of them in particular interests me on this night.  Let me read Sister Prejean’s words of Robert Willie’s last evening in his cell:

            I am surprised when Captain Rabelais and the warden appear with Robert’s last meal.  It’s six o’clock.

            His last meal.

            When Robert sees the tray of food, he smiles and rubs his hands together and says this is one meal he’s going to enjoy.

            I say, teasing him, “Hey, what about your saying you wouldn’t accept any favors from these people?”

            He says that principle applies to everything but fried seafood.  He loves fried seafood.

            A guard places three trays of fried shrimp, oysters, and fish, fried potatoes, and salad on three chairs in front of him…Robert remained there by the door with his handcuffs on but detached from the leather belt, so he could move his hands to eat.

            Captain Rabelais serves me a tray of beef stew and corn, but at the sight of it my throat closes and I fight back a wave of nausea.  It is 6 pm and it’s been dark outside for some time, and all the lights in the building are on and will not be turned off until tonight’s “task” is completed, and as some of my black friends say, “I know what time it is.”

            I take a sip—a tiny one—of the iced tea.  Robert, occupying a universe of his own, picks up a fried shrimp with his fingers, smells it with obvious delight, and eats.  And eats and eats and talks and eats, and it is hard for me to realize that this is his last meal.  He seems to have found some space, some grace, some kind of lagoon in the present moment, even though close by are white, crashing rapids…

            I quietly ask God to help me let go of life freely when it’s time for me to die.  Ignatius of Loyola, Theresa of Avila, John of the Cross, Francis of Assisi—every saint has taught the paradox that lies at the heart of the spiritual life:  to love passionately but with freedom of spirit that does not cling even to life itself.

            Robert says, “I feel kind of high but not like it was with drugs.  I know I’m going to a better place.”

Matthew 26:26-30

            While they were eating, Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.”  Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.  I tell you, I will never again drink of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s Kingdom.”

            When they had sung the hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.

            It was one of life’s pleasantries, afforded to the man who would soon die.  Robert Willie, the Cajun murderer.  Jesus of Nazareth, the one some would call King of the Jews.  Two completely different sides of the human face—sinner and Savior.  And both delight to eat their favorite meal in the closing hours of life.

            One chose an all-you-can-eat assortment of fried seafood.  The other chose the meal of remembrance for God’s saving acts to rescue the people Israel from slavery and bondage in Egypt—the Passover.

              I imagine knowing that tomorrow I might die.  For whatever reason.  If I knew that tomorrow was the last dawn my eyes would witness, and I knew this somehow, I’d fill my dining room table with chopped pork barbeque, the kind you get down South.  I’d have heaps of Brunswick Stew, Cole slaw, the works.  And I’d make sure that these hours were intimately and intensely centered on my beautiful daughter, my beautiful wife.

            Those dying moments.

            One of the gospels, Luke, recalls that Jesus said, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer.”  A dying man’s need to be with those he loved the most, eating a meal that mattered most.

            That is what this table remembers.  It is here that Jesus desires to be with those he loves the most.  Oh, what it must be to be invited into that upper room.  To be one of his chosen disciples on that night.  To be called on of his own.

            I look around the table that night.  And there is Peter.  The Rock.  The one who’d be so bold as to say publicly, “You are the Lord!”  And then in a few hours time he would shrink from such boldness.  In fear of his own life he’d say, “I never knew the man.  I never knew him.  It’s not me!”  And the cock would crow as the daylight exposed his betrayal.

            I see Mary Magdalene there.  An outcast if ever there was one.  She slinked around in the shadows, hoping no one would see her.  There were demons about her soul.  Tormented.  Abused.  Confused.  Rejected.  But, she was there that night, I’m sure of it.  Healed.  So confident in her faith that she’d never leave that man’s side.  Even to the end.  And even to the morning when he was not found in the tomb.

            These were his closest.  The ones he loved the most.  Gathered for a last meal.

            There were James and John.  So robust and headstrong.  The Sons of Thunder people called them.  And they couldn’t keep from arguing about trivial things.  Who was the most important?  Who’d get to sit at the right and left of Jesus in his kingdom?  Tough guys.  Good guys.  A little bit too preoccupied with themselves.

            And the disciple Jesus loved.  Of course he was there.

            Even Judas was there.  Whatever came over Judas?  I don’t know.  He was so close to Jesus.  Held the common purse for all of the disciples.  And he just let it go.  But, he was there.

            I imagine between the saints and sinners at that table is room for some others.  Others to come along.  They’d be there, too.  Like Saul of Tarsus.  Mean ‘ole Saul.  He could stand by with his arms crossed in approval while crowds stoned a disciples named Stephen to death.  But, he’d be there someday, too.  Saul of Tarsus.  You get all of that energy pointed in the right direction, boy, and you’ve got some kind of disciple on your hands.  Paul the apostle.  Saul of Tarsus.

            Beat up.  Broken.  Unreliable. Sometimes faithful beyond words.  They’re all gathered around that table because Jesus loves them so much.  He’d rather be here than any other place right now as he prepares to suffer.

            And there is that woman who sings in the choir.  She doesn’t much believe she’s worthy to be here.  Her life certainly doesn’t feel like one that Jesus would be proud of.  But, she’s here at that table.

            There’s a kid who just the other day was experimenting with something that’ll kill him.  He’s alive.  He may do it again.  But, tonight he’s at this table.  And Jesus eagerly wanted to be here with him.

            I can hardly believe it.  But, there’s a cushion on the floor with my name on it, too.  I can name all of the reasons why I shouldn’t be here.  But, my name is written there.

            And so it yours.  This meal is for us he said.  So, let’s sing the hymn before going out to the Mount of Olives.  Tomorrow is a long day.  For now, let us simply accept that our Lord has eagerly desired to eat at this table with us.

Rev. David James Brown

Park Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)