Maundy Thursday is usually when things turn dark and somber. We try to create a space of quiet and heaviness as we enter into Christ’s betrayal, arrest, and agonizing death. We traditionally leave Maundy Thursday in silence. But the apostles left in song.
On Thursday morning, (most of) the apostles still had no idea of what was to come. They had watched Jesus enter Jerusalem in welcomed glory just days earlier and speak in the Temple. They were celebrating the Passover, a holiday of survival. They probably entered that upper room in good spirits.
Then things got strange. Jesus insisted on washing their feet. But he was always trying to teach lessons they didn’t fully understand. Then he announced that one of them was going to betray him—what a shocking discovery! But then the Passover meal continues.
Their world has just been turned upside down, in ways they don’t understand. There is fear and confusion. Their heads are probably swirling. But there is the Passover feast, an annual tradition of rituals. The holiday has prescribed steps, prescribed words. Internally everything is a mess; externally they can hold on to the familiar motions. Are these rote holiday traditions grounding, comforting? Are they taking on new meaning in light of sitting there with what Jesus has said?