Homily, Holy Thursday Mass of the Last Supper
April 2, 2026; St. Mary’s Cathedral
Introduction
It is a curious phenomenon that sometimes people can have a way of intuitively orchestrating the final hours of their life in this world, before they pass on to the next. Have you ever notice that happen? I’ve seen it myself. They are, sometimes, only hours away from their life slipping out of this world, and yet they hang on until they can say goodbye to all of their dear loved ones they want to see one last time before departing. And sometimes the timing of it, and other circumstances as well, are so providential that it seems like the one passing away almost planned it that way.
Making Arrangements for Something New
Certainly, in the case of our Lord’s final hours, all was very intentionally orchestrated. He clearly made arrangements ahead of time with the master of the house of the Upper Room which he had chosen for holding his last meal with his disciples (cf. Mt 26:18; Mk 14:12-16). He made sure that everything he would need that night was well provided for. And the timing was also foreseen. St. John makes it clear that Jesus held this meal with his disciples the day before Passover began. The meal did not follow the exact ritual of the Passover meal, but it had overtones to the Passover meal in what Jesus did and said to them.
We heard about God’s prescription to His people of old, the people of Israel, for the Passover, to commemorate their release from slavery in Egypt, in the first reading for this Mass of Holy Thursday. But with the timing of the Last Supper, Passover began at sunset the next day. That was the day that Jesus was crucified, at about three-o’clock in the afternoon. We know this because the leaders of the people said that this matter had to be taken care of before the Passover began, so that they could be ritually pure to celebrate it. This means that the Passover lambs were being slaughtered right at the moment that Jesus himself died on the Cross for us.
What Jesus did at that Last Supper with his disciples, then, was to do something new: he is the new Lamb who truly takes away the sins of the world, of which the slaughtered lamb at the Passover meal was just a foreshadowing. And he left them a gift to remind them of this: he bequeathed to them the Holy Eucharist, his Body and Blood, by which he would still be present to his bride, the Church, until he returns. This is the beauty ever ancient and ever new of which St. Augustine speaks.
The Honor of the Cup
Are we attuned to this in how we live our Catholic faith? Do we appreciate that each time Mass is celebrated Christ comes to us anew, making himself present to us and seeking communion with us, such that it seems new to us each time? Or does it just become a matter of routine, such that we have become oblivious to the sacred reality we are celebrating and receiving?
Notice how, at the Last Supper, there was one cup that Jesus shared with all of his disciples who were reclining at table with him. Normally at a Jewish meal each one would have their own cup, but it was a custom that the host of the meal would share his cup with one guest he would choose in order to single out that guest for special honor. Here, Jesus gives that honor to all of his disciples.
This is the gift he bequeaths to the Church, a gift he bequeaths to us, too. He offers us to drink from the same cup that he does, an ancient symbol of sharing the same lot in life. In other words, Jesus gives us the honor of sharing in his passion, his suffering and death. And also a share in its destination: the glory of the Resurrection.
The Way to Heaven
Sharing our Lord’s lot in life means doing for others what he has done for us, that is, fulfilling the commandment he gave us the night before he died: “as I have done for you, you should also do.” This requires humility in the literal sense, lowering oneself, all the way to the ground. Is this not what our Lord did at that Last Supper? He had to literally, physically lower himself to wash the feet of his disciples, the most menial task of all, so much so that was it reserved exclusively to slaves. And he went even further than that: he even washed the feet of his betrayer, knowing that Judas would betray him the next day and sell him to his death.
The Master washes the feet of his disciples, the Savior washes the feet of his betrayer. But it had to happen this way; our Lord warned his disciples about this so they would not be scandalized when it did happen, as St. Matthew recounts for us in his Gospel: “From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly from the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised” (Mt 16:21). All this, to arrive at the Resurrection: death is now destroyed, and eternal life opened up to us.
We all want to go up to heaven. This night, the night before our Lord offered his life for us, teaches us that, in order to go up to heaven, we must first go down to serve, to do for others as he has done for us. Yes, the only way up is down. And tomorrow and Saturday we will commemorate his descent all the way down, all the way down into hell to rescue our ancestors detained there waiting for his humiliating and redemptive act. And then we will arrive at its culmination, on the third day: his Resurrection from the dead, and restoration to eternal glory.
Conclusion
This is the course he has charted out for us, the basic call to discipleship for every Christian, not just a few special selected ones. And it is put into action through our vocation: the vocation our Lord gives to each one of us is the means by which, by living it faithfully and well, we can share his lot in life and in eternity. Accordingly, in the ritual of the washing of the feet unique to this Holy Thursday liturgy to which we will proceed now, we have representatives of different vocations and states in life, of different ages and races. The Church is inclusive of all of these, and needs all in order to be his witnesses to the ends of the earth, until he returns in glory to judge the living and the dead, and bring all history to its consummation.
Resumen en Español
Es extraño cómo algunas personas parecen arreglar sus últimas horas con providencial cuidado: esperan para despedirse hasta que puedan saludar a sus seres queridos una última vez, por ejemplo. En las últimas horas del Señor todo fue muy bien arreglado, y con intención. Él dispuso el lugar y el tiempo de su última comida, escogiendo ese aposento alto, el Cenáculo, y asegurando de que todo estuviera preparado (cf. Mt 26,18; Mc 14,12-16). Además, San Juan nos dice que Jesús celebró esta cena el día antes de la Pascua de los Judíos, de modo que la hora de su muerte el día siguiente coincidió con el degüello de los corderos pascuales. Los corderos de la Pascua prefiguraban lo que Jesús iba a realizar; él es el verdadero Cordero que quita el pecado del mundo.
En la Última Cena Jesús hace algo nuevo y duradero. Da a sus discípulos—y por medio de ellos a la Iglesia—el don de su Cuerpo y su Sangre, la Santa Eucaristía, para que permanezca presente a su esposa, la Iglesia, hasta que vuelva. Es el misterio “siempre antiguo, siempre nuevo” del cual habla San Augustín. ¿Reconocemos la realidad de ese don cuando celebramos la Misa? Cada vez que se ofrece la Eucaristía, Cristo viene a nosotros de nuevo, invitándonos a la comunión. ¿Lo vemos en realidad como algo nuevo cada vez? ¿O más bien se vuelve algo de rutina de modo que no nos abrimos a la realidad sagrada que es Cristo presente que se nos entrega?
Fijémonos en el simbolismo de la copa en la Última Cena. En una comida judía en los tiempos bíblicos cada uno tenía su copa; el anfitrión podía compartir la suya con un invitado para honrarlo. Jesús comparte una sola copa con todos sus discípulos. Los honra dándoles a beber la misma copa que él bebe: signo antiguo de compartir el mismo destino. Beber de su copa es compartir su pasión, su muerte y, finalmente, la gloria de su Resurrección.
Compartir el destino de Cristo tiene una consecuencia moral. Compartir el destino de Cristo es vivir como él vivió: servir a los demás, practicar la humildad y obedecer su mandato, “Les he dado ejemplo, para que lo que yo he hecho con ustedes, también ustedes lo hagan”. La noche antes de morir, Jesús lo mostró realizando el acto más humilde: lavar los pies de sus discípulos. Literalmente tuvo que bajarse, físicamente, para hacerlo. Incluso lavó los pies de Judas, quien lo traicionaría. El Maestro lava los pies de sus discípulos; el Salvador lava los pies de su traidor. Ese gesto enseña que la verdadera grandeza en el Reino de Dios es el servicio humilde.
El Maestro se abaja; los que quieran ser exaltados deben primero descender. Jesús ya había preparado a sus discípulos para lo que vendría. Como San Mateo nos relata en su Evangelio: “A partir de entonces Jesús comenzó a explicar a sus discípulos que debía ir a Jerusalén, padecer mucho por causa de los ancianos, sumos sacerdotes y letrados, y sufrir la muerte y al tercer día resucitar” (Mt 16,21).
Todos deseamos subir al cielo. Esta noche —la noche previa a que nuestro Señor ofreciera su vida por nosotros— nos enseña que, para subir al cielo, primero debemos descender para servir, para hacer por los demás tal como él ha hecho por nosotros. Sí: el único camino hacia arriba es hacia abajo. Y mañana y el sábado conmemoraremos su descenso total, su descenso hasta lo más profundo del infierno para rescatar a nuestros antepasados, allí retenidos a la espera de su acto humillante y redentor. Y entonces llegaremos a su culminación, al tercer día: su Resurrección de entre los muertos y su regreso a la gloria eterna.
Este es el camino que Él ha trazado para nosotros: la llamada fundamental al discipulado para todo cristiano, no solo para unos pocos elegidos especiales. Y esta se concretiza en nuestra vocación; la vocación que el Señor otorga a cada uno de nosotros es el medio por el cual, al vivirla fiel y rectamente, podemos compartir su destino tanto en esta vida como en la eternidad. Por consiguiente, en el rito del lavatorio de los pies —propio de esta liturgia del Jueves Santo, al cual procederemos ahora— contamos con representantes de diversas vocaciones y estados de vida, de distintas edades y razas. La Iglesia acoge a todos ellos y los necesita a todos para ser los testigos de Jesús hasta los últimos confines de la tierra, hasta que él regrese en gloria para juzgar a vivos y muertos, y llevar toda la historia a su consumación.
Photo: John Bartolome
