Maundy Thursday 2017
April 13, 2017
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
Grace to you and peace from God our
Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
The texts we
hear on this Maundy Thursday are the same ones each year. Whenever there is a
day like this, on which we hear the same texts every year, the preacher’s
challenge becomes: What angle can we take this year to preach the good news in
a new way? But this year, my mind didn’t go to all the possible angles; rather,
it was drawn again and again to Jesus’ new commandment: “love one another as I
have loved you.”
Whenever we are drawn so relentlessly
to a certain phrase of scripture like this, we can understand that as the Holy
Spirit trying to speak that particular word to our particular place in life. In
our case, I look around and see that division seems to be the new norm, and
this past couple weeks in particular, every couple of days there is more
devastating or disheartening news – a bombing here, a beating there, chemical weapons
and military backlash, dozens killed unjustly, people living in fear for their
lives as they know them. Into this context, these words, “love one another,” so
simple, suddenly seem so much more important, even as they feel so much more
elusive.
And yet it is for this world – this
broken, hurting, divided, angry, reactive world – that Jesus died. It is this
world that we carry with us into these Three Days during which we remember
Christ’s horrible death. It is for this world that we hope, as we look forward
to the resurrection. It is this world, this very one, that needs as much as it
ever has to know that Jesus Christ loves us and died for us.
When I refer to “the world,” maybe
you are imagining the global scene. Or perhaps right now your world is smaller,
as you imagine the particular strife facing your family or dear friends right
now. Or maybe the world that occupies your attention is your church, your
workplace, your school, your town, or your country. Whatever division and
brokenness you carry with you today, join me in bringing it to this question:
what does it look like to “love one another” as Jesus loves us? What does it
mean to “love one another” in the particular brokenness you are feeling
tonight?
I do hope you will reflect on that
question throughout these three days and
into the Easter season, but tonight, I
will offer you a few of my own reflections.
 |
| David Paynter, Jesus washing disciples' feet http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=54318 |
So, looking at the story of the
foot-washing that we just heard, and bringing that story to this broken world,
what does it look like to “love one another”?
First, it looks like humility. It is a willingness to kneel
at someone’s feet, to become the lesser, to put someone else ahead of you. It
is the teacher becoming the servant.
How might this translate into our
particular pains and world-weariness? I find when I am in pain, and maybe this
is your experience as well, I want to make sure my needs are known. It’s basic
human instinct, right? When we hurt, we seek to have our needs, whether
physical or emotional, met! But loving someone with humility might mean
listening to someone else’s needs and story before sharing your own. It might
mean making an effort even to “try on” someone else’s opinion or viewpoint for
a while, to really consider it, before putting your own on the table.
Michael and I have been watching the
new show, Designated Survivor. In the
first episode, a massive explosion takes out the entire US government during
the State of the Union Address, leaving the “designated survivor” – the one
person kept off premises just in case such a thing should happen – as the
president. The show, then, is about how the Secretary of Housing and Urban
Development, a
really good guy who had no interest in being president, rebuilds
the government and tries to win the trust and respect of a country who would
never have voted for him. In a recent episode, “President Kirkman” holds a town
hall to address questions about his new agenda. In his preparations for that,
it becomes clear he is not a natural in this format: his staff tells him he is
too professorial, aloof and impersonal. They urge him, in an effort to build trust
and rapport with the people, that “This is about them, not you. Connect with
them.” So when a former factory worker stands up and expresses his concern
about losing his job at age 55, the president first responds, “My dad and
grandpa were factory workers…” But then he pauses, chuckles, and turns to the
man, saying, “But this time isn’t about me. It’s about you.” And he goes on to acknowledge
the real and deep fears this man is feeling. It is a moving moment where we can
see this shift, where he actually connects with not only this man, but the
America people who also live in fear. In that moment, he becomes their
president, and healing can begin.
 |
| Kiefer Sutherland as President Kirkman |
It was beautifully portrayed on the
screen, but – oh, is this sort of connection ever difficult! When we have
conversations, we want to relate! We want to connect to our own life. It takes
a lot of energy to dwell completely in the needs of another, without adding
your own two cents. This sort of connection takes a lot of humility, but this
humble connection that Jesus demonstrates is what heals our divisions and our
pain, wherever in our life they occur.
Even as “love one another” looks like
the effort to humbly see another, it also looks like vulnerability – a willingness to be truly seen. It is letting another see not just the shiny
exterior you work so hard to make look presentable and acceptable to the world,
but also the dark, embarrassing parts – your dirty feet, as well as your broken
heart. Spoken about our particular world weariness, that might mean admitting to
someone that you are wrong, or at least that someone else is right. It might
mean doing the hard work of looking at a conflict and considering your own role
in that conflict – whether your role was active or merely complicit (did you or
could you do anything to stop the pain from occurring?). It might mean being
brave enough to say something important into a group where you know others
disagree. It might mean admitting you don’t have the answers.
Each of these runs so much against
our grain when we are feeling hurt – once again, our instinct is to protect our
hearts, not to bare them! We may seek that protection by hiding, or by lashing
out, but it is not generally our first instinct to respond to pain by opening
our hearts to the possibility of more pain. Peter shows us this when he insists
Jesus not wash his feet. I usually read this like, “Jesus, you have no business
washing my feet!” but I wonder if there is also a bit of, “I don’t want you
seeing that embarrassing part of me.” But, as Jesus points out, this sort of
exposure and vulnerability is required to have a close and meaningful share in
a relationship with Christ.
Finally, “love one another” looks
like selflessness – that is, a
willingness to put aside your pain, and still care deeply about another, even
the one who caused your pain. One of the most remarkable things about this text
is actually in the missing verses, in which Judas betrays Jesus, and the ones
directly following, in which Jesus foretells Peter’s denial. And yet, even
though he knew both of these things would happen, Jesus still washes Judas’ and
Peter’s feet. He still breaks bread with them. He still dies for them, and for
all those who would in the future betray or deny someone they love, who loves
them.
Maybe the magnitude of this is lost
on us, because this is Jesus and all. But think of this: Jesus looks out at
this group of disciples, knows that one is about to turn him over to have him
killed, another is going to deny – three times! – that he even knows him, and
the rest will desert him in his hour of need. If you knew someone was about to
do those things to you, what would you do?
How would you treat them? Would you kneel down to serve them in the most
intimate way imaginable? Would you sit down to a meal with them and tell them
how much you love them? Would you throw yourself in harm’s way to save their
life? I think most of us, in this situation, would have a hard time even
looking that person in the eye. Initiating a conversation with them to find
some understanding might even seem impossible – let alone any of these things
Jesus does for Peter, Judas, and all the rest. Indeed, what Jesus does for us. Yet
this is the sort of love Jesus calls us to: “love one another as I have loved
you.”
Loving one another with humility,
vulnerability, and selflessness – these are tall orders, each one. Loving and
serving friends or even strangers is one thing, but on this night, Jesus calls
us into loving relationship, even with those who have hurt, betrayed, denied
and deserted us, those who have acted as we wish they hadn’t, those who make us
angry.
This is the task and the call of the
Church. And nowhere is this love more profoundly experienced than in the Lord’s
Supper, in which we remember Jesus’ self-giving on our behalf. We see that
bread that is his body, broken before our eyes, and remember that Christ knows
and understands our own brokenness, and loves us still. We come forward, hands
outstretched, to receive this humble, vulnerable, selfless love of Christ,
indeed to receive concretely the grace and forgiveness of God. We come forward,
carrying with us all of our brokenness, all of our pain, and that of our world,
and receive that morsel with those words, “given for you.” For you, Jesus says, I have loved the world. For you, I
have shown that love. For you, I have died, so that you might find in me life
eternal.
And as we receive Jesus’ brokenness
for our own wholeness, we remember how Jesus calls us, too, into this sort of
love, even as we are empowered to follow that command: to love one another as
Christ loved us. May we find in this sacrament both command and empowerment to
live out this command in our families, our churches, and our world.
Let us pray… Lord Christ, on the night in which you were betrayed, you showed us the
profound way you call us to love one another: with humility, vulnerability, and
selflessness. As we receive the sacrament tonight, and as we walk with you
through these Three Days and into eternal life, make us willing servants,
equipped and empowered to follow your command in our world. In the name of the
Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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