The Warmth of Shadows

Maundy Thursday, 2006

            I had already been thinking about the theme for this Maundy Thursday communion and Tenebrae sermon when I looked back at last year’s service and Stuart’s sermon and saw that he had dealt with shadows as well – specifically, our shadow side, playing off of that old radio show “The Shadow” (which I also loved to listen to as a boy).  So, for those of you who were here last year and have some memory of that service, this will be a somewhat different take on the meaning of the shadows.

            In the office of Tenebrae, as you will hear in the scriptures that will be read in just a few moments, there are three shadows cast:  shadows of betrayal, desertion, and crucifixion.  Ugly words – which meet one set of expectations we have about shadows:  that they are dark, dangerous, and threatening – in a word, cold:  a symbol for the chill of fear, the shudder of despair.

            But we are ambivalent about shadows, for shadows can also be for us a comforting place of retreat.  When things become too rough we have a tendency to move into the shadows at the edge of conflict – like Peter skulking around the edges of the crowd, or like the other disciples who break and run into the dark.  Hiding in the shadows is better, we sometimes think, than moving out into the light of risk.  Psychologists sometimes speak of this as a return to the womb – retreating into a warm, protective place.

            The shadows cast by betrayal, desertion, and crucifixion, though, have neither the debilitating coldness of fear nor the false warmth of retreat.  For shadows are only possible when there is something – or someone – to cast a shadow.  And in this case the shadow cast by Jesus has in it an ultimate warmth.

            Jesus first casts the shadow of betrayal – letting it fall on Judas.  Now, despite what you read in the paper or heard on the news last week about the discovery of a new Gospel of Judas that depicts him as Jesus’ confidant and true partner, Judas’ act of turning him over to the soldiers was a clear act of betrayal.  But Jesus’ shadow falls farther.  It falls on all of us who betray him in such seemingly small ways.  The coldness of this shadow comes through the chilling phrase, “Lord, is it I?”  But as soon as we have heard this question deep within ourselves we are aware of the warmth of forgiveness – an ever-present forgiveness that is there even in the teeth of betrayal.  To live in the warmth of this shadow is to recognize that God accepts us where we are.

            Jesus then casts the shadow of desertion – and it falls on Peter, who is not yet aware that his easily given assurances will be worth little when the time for action comes.  But Jesus’ shadow falls farther.  It falls on all of us who give assurances, along with Peter, that we will not deny our Lord, but who then fail to act on our Christian convictions in the marketplace of our everyday worlds.  The coldness of this shadow lies in the lack of self-insight.  But once having become aware that denial is an ever-present possibility, given the pressures of contemporary life, we feel the warmth of courage – a courage that comes when true discipleship overcomes desertion.  To live in the warmth of this shadow is to recognize that God gives us strength where our own will falters.

            Ultimately, the shadow of the cross is the shadow of Jesus himself – cast upon the crowd at the foot of the cross and upon us who are a part of that crowd.  It is the shadow of the very coldness of death – of a dream dying – of a hope crucified.  But once having been in the shadow of death we are now aware of the warmth of love coming from this cross – a love that will not let the dream be deferred – a love that offers the renewal of hope.  To live in the warmth of this shadow is to know – truly know in the very depths of our being – that God’s love reaches far beyond our little everyday deaths and even our own very real death.

            The lights that go out here tonight are re-lit on Easter – casting their shadows not of betrayal and desertion and crucifixion, but of forgiveness and courage and love.  Take this cup and eat this bread in joyful recognition that we do not need to live in the coldness of shadows, for the shadows cast by this cup and this bread warm us with the very power of God.

                                                Dave Pomeroy

                                                First Congregational Church, United Church of Christ

                                                Las Vegas, NV

                                                April 9, 2006