Exodus 12:1-8, 11-14 1^st Corinthians 11:23-26 John 13:1-15

The Liturgy of the Word for the annual evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper always proclaims the same scripture texts. The first is a rather refined Exodus account of divine instructions to Moses and Aaron in preparation for their departure (their Exodus) from Egypt. The second is St. Paul’s account of what are called the “dominical words of institution” (the words with which Jesus blessed the bread and cup) at the Last Supper. The Gospel narrative is John’s account of the Last Supper which presumes we already know the Last Supper tradition as recounted in 1^st Corinthians and in the Synoptic Gospels. John’s is the only Gospel remembrance of Jesus’ exemplary washing of his disciples’ feet. John directly connected the Eucharist of the Last Supper to the necessity of loving, ministerial service along with a further necessity of theological reflection on the meaning of Gospel life (“Do you understand ...?”). These connections (Eucharist to ministry to reflection) are established not quite so explicitly by Matthew, Mark and Luke in their narratives. In the Church’s healthiest theological evolution all three Supper components are crucially important even if still sometimes unnoticed by the greater share of attention given by many to the institution of the Eucharist. Thus, the Eucharist has sometimes come to be treated more as an object to be possessed than as the communal prayer of gratitude. We must take care not to reduce the Sacramental Mystery to a perceived merely physical reality. Eucharist is and must be, theologically, used both as a verb and as a noun. We must be thankful in order to participate in Christ’s Eucharist.

Many people are better disposed to visual perception and so perceive and retain things seen more effectively than heard or read about. Consequently, there is a normal temptation to reduce visual perceptions to the superficial level. Our images of the ancient Israelites celebrating the first Passover rites and their Exodus from Egypt are simple enough to imagine. However, rather than merely seeing people in action, busily eating and embarking on a journey, let us pose to our imaginations the question, What differences have the Passover and Exodus made in life? For the Jewish People, these events were constitutional. They are asked to reflect upon them annually. Eucharistic Christians likewise ought to reflect on these two events very carefully, and discover that they are also foundational to the Gospel we embrace. The Passover Meal is the setting in which Jesus chose to describe his sacrificial death and resurrection as an act of thankfulness and hope. The freedom bestowed by God upon the Ancient Israelites which allowed them to escape their Egyptian servitude is the same freedom which constitutes our human dignity and allows us to freely embrace the whole Gospel with all the joys and challenges it brings. The Exodus is therefore a metaphor for the life journey of each individual believer among and along with all the other believers in the Church for the duration of life. Not merely for the proverbial “40 years,” but our faith journey lasts an entire lifetime. To appreciate this life pilgrimage, we must probe beneath the appearances to achieve something more significant than a superficial equivalent in mere form to the images we paint in our minds’ eye. Our Gospel life reaches out for something infinitely more dynamic, more life-giving, than mere appearances. Remember that Jesus said of his own mission in John’s Gospel (10:10), “I came that they may have life and have it more fully!”

The Eucharistic tradition from 1^st Corinthians is very succinct, but it is set in a context of liturgical fellowship which we must not minimize. Jesus’ Paschal Mystery (his passion, death and resurrection) is not a series of magical gestures and words by which a capricious and arbitrary god is appeased. The death of Jesus on the cross was not an event endured simply in order to make a cruel god happy. God did not say to Jesus, “I want to see you die on a cross.” Rather, Jesus was killed by others like us who somehow found themselves very intimidated by and defensive of the consistent and adult love Jesus used towards all he met. Jesus’ love without end was what got him killed. Without such infinite and perfect love, Jesus might well have simply abandoned his mission when it became dangerous. Fortunately for us, his love was sufficient to keep him faithful.

Paul related the Eucharistic tradition he received in the context of giving significant advice to his Corinthian Christians. They had been rather imperfect. Among the remedies for this imperfection, Paul reminded them of the call and obligation to be a thankful people. He appreciated the context of Jesus’ own Eucharist, “on the night before he died...” , i.e., Jesus’ own sacrifice was offered because he was first thankful.

Eucharist was for Jesus both a verb and a noun. So must it be for us.

We must be thankful as a way of life before we can engage in any truly ministerial service or effective theological reflection. The power of gratitude is immense and salvific.