"The Banquet" | The Rev. Heidi Thorsen | April 17, 2025
Sermon Preached: April 17, 2025 at Trinity on the Green
Maundy Thursday, Year C: Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14 | 1 Corinthians 11:23-26 | John 13:1-17, 31b-35
May I speak in the name of God who is to us Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Last summer a friend invited me over to her place for an Olympics opening ceremony watch party on a Friday afternoon. Olympics opening ceremonies are known for their spectacle— and the Paris version of this did not disappoint. I watched as Lady Gaga serenaded passing boats on the Seine, surrounded by clouds of pink feathers. Then in a very different act, artists reenacted the French Revolution (complete with headless Marie Antoinettes and red streamers cascading down like blood) while a French metal band shredded electric guitars. Perhaps some of you were also watching these scenes. Once you’ve seen them, they are hard to forget.
One of the more controversial acts came towards the middle of the ceremony. A camera panned in on a banquet table spanning the bridge over the Seine. At the very center was a full-bodied woman, wearing a spectacular sequined outfit and a kind of halo. To her left and right people of many skin tones and body types– some in drag attire– sat posed in a position that looked, for all intents and purposes, like a reenactment of Leonardo Da Vinci’s painting of the Last Supper. Music started, and the festivities began: people were dancing and walking down the table like a catwalk, and an almost naked man painted blue reclined at the center of the table, seeming to preside over it all.
As soon as this scene aired, people had opinions about it. Reactions from people I know were deeply divided. Some people loved this scene, rejoicing in the joy and visibility of the LGBTQ community, and seeing it as a faithful depiction of God’s love and affirmation for all people. On the other hand, some people were deeply offended, seeing the party and catwalk– and indeed, the gender diversity of people represented– as a mockery of the Christian religious tradition. In any case, both sides— the fans and the critics of this scene— saw a clear connection between what they saw on the screen and the story of Jesus’ last supper with his disciples. The very supper that we celebrate and commemorate on this evening of Maundy Thursday.
You can read about this controversy online. In fact, it is easier to read peoples’ opinions about this particular performance than it is to find a video of the performance itself, which people promptly took offline. The French artists who conceived of this scene were quick to apologize and backpedal, saying it was never meant to be a representation of the Last Supper but rather a depiction of the Greek bacchanal, with Dionysius (i.e. the blue man) leading the party. This retraction didn’t stop pundits from criticizing the piece as a mockery of Christian religion, with voices from American politicians to the Vatican itself weighing in on the issue.
I will say this: I loved the scene. It reminded me of the church I worked at when I was a seminarian in New York City, a church in the West Village that hosted a weekly meal and community space for LGBTQ youth. This church was a refuge for young adults on a Saturday night; a space where you could play Uno, or quietly craft in a corner, or learn new dance moves while voguing in the gym. In no way did this program feel like a mockery. Instead, it felt like the radical welcome that Jesus offered to tax collectors, Pharisees, Samaritans, and many people under the general category of “sinners.” All of which to say: Jesus wasn’t particular about who was invited to dinner. Instead he made sure to eat with everyone– perhaps especially those who were pushed to the edge of society for one reason or another.
Middle child that I am, I can understand why people might have reacted strongly, one way or another, to the banquet performance at the Olympic opening ceremonies. I’m sure there was a time in my life when I would have been shocked, or even offended by something that is so different from the culture I grew up in. That’s why it is important to take a step back and ask ourselves: what would Jesus do? Or rather, what would Jesus think? Would Jesus insist that the only correct depiction of the Lord’s Supper is a version painted by a Renaissance artist in the 15th century– a version which, by the way, depicts people with very light skin tones and fails to depict any women in the scene (despite the historic likelihood that they were there)? Or would Jesus delight in the reinterpretation of the Last Supper in every century and culture– especially those depictions that invite everyone to the table, just as Jesus himself would have done? Even if the banquet scene of the Olympic opening ceremonies were truly meant to represent a Greek scene, and not the Last Supper, I still think that Jesus would approve– recognizing the joy and freedom of people being themselves, just as God intended them to be.
Today, on Maundy Thursday, we give thanks for the gift of Holy Communion. We remember how Jesus gathered his friends, the disciples around the table, and invited them to break bread and drink from one cup– and to do this in remembrance of Jesus’ life-giving ministry and his sacrifice. This meal that we continue to share commemorates that Last Supper. But it also commemorates Jesus’ feeding of the multitudes, when there were more than enough loaves and fishes for everyone. It also commemorates Jesus’ meals shared with tax collectors and sinners. It commemorates the meals Jesus ate with his friends Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. It commemorates the Wedding at Cana. It commemorates the parables Jesus tells about a banquet where everyone off the streets is invited to come and dine together– because that’s what the kingdom of God looks like.
We don’t get to choose who is invited to this table, just as we don’t get to choose whose feet we will wash (or who will wash our feet) on this Maundy Thursday. We don’t get to choose because the invitation is open to everyone. Jesus invites everyone into this community of literal and spiritual sustenance; into this community of mutual care. God has sent the invitation already. It isn’t our job to say who is, or isn’t invited. Our job is to simply say yes.
One of my favorite things about communion– especially communion here at Trinity on the Green– is the diversity of people that we break bread with in this space. During communion we stand or kneel alongside people who we might otherwise never interact with. But this is how God intended us to be. We who are many are one, because we share in the one bread. Through the act of communion, we are drawn into relationship with one another. And we are changed.
Later this evening we will clear the bread and wine off the table, and we will strip the altar of all its decoration– a stark reminder of Jesus’ devastating arrest and crucifixion. But even when the bread and wine go away, we are still a part of one another. We still walk on this journey together, as fellow travellers who recognize that we are a part of something bigger than ourselves. We are a part of the Body of Christ. Even when that body is suffering, broken and bruised. We belong to one another.
May you have the courage to live not for yourself alone, but to live for every member of the Body of Christ. May you love that body from its head to its feet. And remember that we cannot be who God intends for us to be until everyone is welcome at this table. Until everyone is welcome in this fellowship of love. Amen.