A while ago, I received a phone call from an insurance company. It seemed legitimate for a couple of reasons. Unlike almost all cold-callers, the person on the other end knew my name and position. Additionally, she spoke my native language, which is hardly ever used for unsolicited calls in this country. She offered me a life insurance policy tailored for Catholic priests, which raised my eyebrows a bit. Why? In general, “life insurance is a type of policy that protects your loved ones with financial support if you die. It can help minimise the financial impact that your death could have on your family and offer peace of mind to those you care about most.” In my country of origin, everyone knows that Catholic priests have no wives or children, so my non-existent family wouldn’t benefit from my death. The lady on the phone – always nice and polite – was trying hard to convince me that the policy would make sense. What she did convince me of was that the ultimate beneficiary would be her insurance company. Not a massive surprise, really. That’s what lies at the heart of every business.
Obviously, my circumstances are somewhat unusual. Most people have families they love and greatly care about. This love takes many different forms and expresses itself in various ways, most often in such nearly imperceptible manners that we often take it for granted. Occasionally, such love inspires people to take extraordinary actions. Last week, we heard in the news that a British MP was denied entry into Hong Kong, where she had travelled to see her newborn grandchild. That was quite an undertaking from my perspective, given that I dread the tedium of even a short-haul flight to visit my mum. The ultimate form of care for loved ones is securing their well-being and future in the event of one’s untimely demise. Life insurance providers promise to deliver such security. It is estimated that only about 35% of households in the UK pay for such policies; it’s unlikely that the remaining 65% are unmarried and childless Catholic priests. More likely, the lack of uptake is due to associated costs, complicated terms and conditions, and the dreaded fine print. However, it can be safely said that a much higher percentage of families try to secure their future in ways other than life insurance. It’s an instinctive drive known to us from time immemorial.
That’s essentially the meaning of Jesus’ actions at the Last Supper which we are commemorating tonight. He knew that the time of his redemptive death had arrived; he knew it would completely change his ways of interacting with his disciples, whom he called friends. The gospels provide evidence of Jesus defending his disciples against various opponents and accusers. After his death and resurrection, such direct, physical actions would no longer be possible. The disciples also felt great uncertainty about their future. Jesus knew he would have to equip them to deal with their new reality with confidence, courage and wisdom. Unlike modern-day life insurance providers, their welfare was at the heart of his undertaking.
There are three aspects of the Eucharist represented in tonight’s readings. The symbolism of the Passover meal in Egypt revolved around the theme of protection and liberation. The blood of the sacrificial lamb marked the houses of the Israelites and protected them from the angel of death going through Egypt that night. By dawn, they were free, left their slavery behind and began to travel to the promised land. Those ancient events took on a new spiritual meaning for the community of Jesus’ followers. His death was their passover liberation and set them on the journey to their heavenly promised land. This view was reflected in the second reading: “As often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” Jesus, ever present when we celebrate the Eucharist, accompanies us on our journey through life.
The gospel reading sheds light on a crucial aspect of such an endeavour. Although it’s personal by definition because each one of us is unique, it’s never individual as if disconnected from others. The dominant cultural current in so-called Western civilisation is centred on extreme individuality, as if the world must revolve around me; everything must be about me; my needs, wishes, and desires must be fulfilled, and my opinions must be considered solely valid and therefore acted upon. In today’s gospel, Jesus presented an alternative concept. In a theatrical fashion, he washed his disciples’ feet, a job usually done by the lowliest of servants. In a highly hierarchical society, it must have left the disciples gobsmacked, as Peter’s dramatic protestations made clear. Jesus’ action served a specific purpose, explained by himself: “You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.” In other words, his arguably high position must not have been a justification for any privileges, but rather a reason to serve more. His followers were called to walk in his footsteps, not limiting it to the washing of feet but expanding this spirit of charitable service to each and all aspects of life. Jesus made it even clearer in the gospel of St. Matthew: “whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (20:26-28)
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