Mandatum Novum

OK. I was going to give everyone their "Maundy Thursday 101" lesson, but Sing4Joy has totally beat me to the punch! So, go hit her page and come back so we can continue...

Pretty interesting stuff, I think. I've noticed that not many churches have Maundy Thursday services, and I know my church has not always had them. At my church, we are observing this important day with a Seder, combining that with the chance for each person to take part in the meal as well as music. It's not a traditional, orthodox seder, but then again, we're not Jewish. We are trying to incorporate our Jewish heritage to better appreciate and understand our New Testament faith.

One of the songs that we are playing tonight is, "In The Garden," by Michael Card. I have scoured the internet to find you a clip to hear or watch of this song. It is NOT the traditional hymn that you are most likely thinking of; it's a completely different song. It is a lament of sorts, and the part that gets to me is the second verse. Here are the lyrics:

"Trembling with fear,
Alone in the garden
Battle before the final war
Blood became tears,
There in the garden
To fall upon the silent stone
There in the darkness, the Light
And the darkness stood still
Two choices, one tortured will
And there, once the choice had been made
All the world could be saved
By the One in the garden

The light of the dawn
Was seen in the garden
By gentle eyes, so sadly wise
The angels appear,
They come to the garden
Clothed with sighs, they realize
The One they've adored from the start
Will be broken apart
By the ones He had come to save
So they're here simply now to be near
He's no longer alone
They sit by Him and moan."

I have never viewed the Passion from the perspective of the angels, created beings separate from humans and from God, spectators in the history of creation. How they have adored Jesus, the Word made flesh, which has been since the foundations of the world, and ministered to Him no doubt, have worshipped Him and will do so again at the end of days. I envision Jesus, wracked with the reality that is so near. His aching, wrestling with what is to come, His desire to be obedient to the Father, His intercession for us as believers yet to come even moments before these terrible events begin (John 17:20-26), and yet there is an unseen assembly. The angels have come to minister to Him. They can't step into His place, but their ministry is one of presence. It was so important that He not suffer alone. They said nothing but they were there. Their spirits were so heavy, yet they came to Him.

Can we 100% prove that this actually happened? No. But is there exacting evidence that proves that this was impossible? Again, no. It seems acceptable in my understanding that this scenario is entirely possible, and it grieves me in a beautiful way to think of the Passion from this perspective. Thinking of the feelings running through Jesus' heart, the reason for all this to come to pass, break my heart. Then, when I think about the angels coming to minister to Him, their hearts breaking, that, too, makes me sad but comforts me as well. I can believe that, if the Father provided this kind of comfort to Jesus in His time of need, then He can also accomplish that in my life. The angels came to provide love and support, not to take the cup of suffering away. And so it is in our lives. God comes to us -- supernaturally, through other people, through experiences, etc. -- and shows us His ministry of presence, although we're still up to our eyeballs in some of the thickest mud we've ever found ourselves in. It is a big deal to me to not feel alone in my struggles and my journeys. When I feel alone in this world, I know that I have not been completely abandoned, and that thought alone has been something that has gotten me through many a hard day.

One last thought about the events of today: try to bring Maunday Thursday and Good Friday to the table with you every time you receive communion. As I like to tell Ron, communion, along with baptism, are two of the only things in my religion that are tangible. You can have a sensory experience with bread, wine, and water. They are, to me, one of the easiest ways to remind me of "what it's all about." It's about love. Jesus loved me, even me. He established the breaking of the bread and the drinking of the wine as simple, physical reminders of His love. He suffered, was broken, and poured out His life out of love. For me. For you.

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." --John 15:13 (KJV)