then it's the memory of our betters

that are keeping us on our feet

A Sermon for Maundy Thursday:

Isn’t it just like Jesus, to make us do something we’d just as well avoid?

All this business of taking off shoes, having someone wash our feet, for heaven’s sake. It’s all just too much! 

Today is Maundy Thursday, though. On this evening, we hear of Jesus’ last night with his disciples. On this holy day, the church gathers her children and puts before them Jesus’ command to actually love one another, to risk vulnerability. To risk humility.

Tonight we hear of Jesus’ last night with his disciples. 

The command he gave them, as he said what had to have been so hard to hear. How soon, he would go where they could not. The way their life together, was going to rupture all too quickly. Admitting that in a matter of hours, nothing would be able to put it back together the days they had, had with Jesus…

Of all the poignant moments in Jesus’ all too short life and ministry, this is the pinnacle. 

Jesus gathers those who had been with him through thick and thin, and shares food. Jesus gathers those who had been with him, who misunderstood nearly everything he ever said to them and ate. Jesus gathers even Judas who, in a matter of hours, would betray him - and does something as human as it is necessary, eats.  

Jesus gathers them all, around a meal.

Jesus gathers them. Then, at the center of the supper, he takes off his robe, stoops down and washes the feet of those he’s gathered.

Peter, of course, won’t have it.

And us right along with him. This night still makes those Jesus gathers around him, uncomfortable - for a whole myriad of reasons. Rather than list them, let us just admit it. This night makes us uneasy.

I’m not trying to berate anyone. I’m empathizing. This night makes me uncomfortable, too. 

In fact, I think this night is just as, if not more, important for pastors than anyone else. This night, the church tells those who have been called to serve the Word, that if they’re going to; they need to be willing to actually love the people the Word has gathered. 

Tonight isn’t easy for you; and it isn’t easy for me. This night is hard…

Tonight is Maundy Thursday, though.

This night isn’t only hard because of the work the towel, basin and water call to, though. This night is also hard because living together as God’s people is just plain hard - day in and day out. It’s hard.

The longer I serve, the longer I am, frankly, intimidated by all the forces that threaten to tear us apart. The truth is, a congregation is a very fragile thing. Living together doesn’t come automatically. And it certainly doesn’t come easily, either. 

There are the troubles we create for ourselves. The petty fights. The refusal to see from another’s perspective. The need to be right at all costs. The unwillingness to forgive. The stubborn insistence on having things our way. 

Then, there are the troubles that would find us. The constant upkeep buildings require. The bills that only multiply. The lukewarm members who fall away just when we need them most. 

Living together, as people Jesus has gathered around him, isn’t easy. It’s hard to carry out Jesus’ mission. Trouble always seems to find us. That is, when we’re not the one’s causing trouble for ourselves. 

In fact, this night, and all the ways it makes us uncomfortable, stand as painful reminder of all the ways we’ve failed to live together as Jesus would have us. 

Living together, as the people Jesus has gathered around him, isn’t easy.

It was another Maundy Thursday this was driven home to me. 

After the service, I went back to the office to get some thing or another. Before returning, I went into the sanctuary. As the failing light came through the windows, I noticed the altar. 

This place where, week after week, we shared a meal together. This place where we became the closest to being the people God created us to be. The place where we put away the charade, and just admit we are hungry for God, and all the attempts to stave the hunger ourselves have only made matters worse. 

Only now, that place was empty. And I saw it…

I saw it. The doors closing. The mission ending. The people dispersing. 

I saw the altar stripped, for real. 

The image stung my eyes. I tried to push it away. It just lay there, though. Like a terrible basilisk. 

As it flashed before my eyes, it was clear all that would destroy us is more legion, more powerful than our tenuous composition. Most terrible of all, though, was the realization that the trouble we create for ourselves, is more dangerous than the trouble that would find us. And fools that we are, we don’t let sleeping dogs lie… 

Today is Maundy Thursday, though.

Soon the altar will be stripped of everything. We’ve already stripped the one at Trinity. The truth is, we are doing something terrible. Not merely reenacting what happened on the cross. We’re coming to grips with how delicate our life holds together.

In fact, everything that happens this night, is more than just a reenactment. In the washing of the feet, we will actually try and love one another as Jesus has commanded us. At the altar, when we share Holy Communion - Jesus will come again and feed us with his very righteousness. Right now even, Jesus speaks his final command to us.

Today is Maundy Thursday, though.

What Jesus said to his disciples, so he says to us this night: “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.  Just as I have loved you, you should also love one another.” 

As we face what’s to come. Knowing full well, all that threatens to tear us apart is more numerous and powerful than anything we could cobble together, Jesus tells us to love one another. 

He gives no other instruction on how to get along after his ascension - when he goes to where we cannot for, the time being. He simple reminds us that he has loved us, and insists if we’re to have half a chance in hell, we’re going to need to love one another… 

Tonight is Maundy Thursday, though…

When the budget fails. When the cog breaks. When the wall can’t bear it’s load. When our good nature falls short. When our best intentions snaps. When all else fails. Because it has, hasn’t it? — All we will have, is love.

If Jesus is to be trusted, and he is, that love will the only thing that won’t fail us. 

Now; on this night we have heard our Lord’s commandment to love one another as he has loved us. We who receive God’s love in Jesus Christ are called to love one another, to be servants to to each other as Jesus became our our servant. 

Our commitment to this loving service is signified in the washing of feet, following the example our Lord gave us on the night before his death.