Maundy Thursday 2009
John 13: 1-17, 31b-35Mandatum Novum
Just before the prophet Elijah was taken up into heaven, he asked his young protégé Elisha, if there was a gift he would like to have from his master. "Let me inherit a double portion of your spirit," Elisha tells him. Elijah obliges. As he boards a chariot of fire, Elijah leaves behind his mantle, the same mantle he had used to part the waters of the Jordan River. Elijah is taken up into heaven, and Elisha picks up the mantle, puts it on, and, sure enough, he uses it to part the waters himself.
Now, that’s what I call an inheritance. At least two of the disciples of Jesus wanted an inheritance like that. They asked Jesus for the places of honor, one at his right, and one at his left, when he came into his kingdom.
How shocked all 12 disciples must have been when their master rose from the table, took off his outer garment, and stripped down to his skivvies. Then he took a towel, wrapped it around himself, poured water into a bowl, and began to wash their dusty, smelly feet.
Back in those days the custom was for the host to offer guests a pitcher and basin so that they could wash their own feet. No male Jew, not even a slave, could be compelled to wash another person’s feet. Of course, women were the exception to the rule. There are Biblical examples of women washing the feet of men, the most famous being the unnamed woman who washed the feet of Jesus. (Yes, Walter, she was unnamed, despite the tradition that she was Mary Magdalene.)
"Shocking" doesn’t begin to capture the reaction those male disciples must have had when they saw their Teacher and Lord keeling at their feet, performing an act so degrading, so beneath his station, as to be utterly incomprehensible.
Has Jesus lost his mind? Peter is too polite to say so, but you have to wonder. "You, Lord, washing my feet? You will never wash my feet."
"You don’t get it, do you, Peter? Of course not. I didn’t name you Rocky for nothing. If I don’t wash you, you have no share in me."
"Well, in that case, do by hands and my head, too!"
You’ve got to hand it to Peter. He does nothing by half measures.
After washing and drying 24 feet, Jesus gets up, dresses himself, and assumes his proper place at the table.
"I have set you an example," he tells them. ". . . I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."
Instead of a mantle of prophecy, the disciples receive a towel. Instead of power to part water, they receive a pitcher and basin. Instead of instructions on how to win friends and influence people, they receive a mandatum novum, a new commandment. "Love one another as I have loved you."
There are many lessons to be learned as we remember this night. I mention only three.
The first is a lesson in humility. On the face of it, Peter is concerned about preserving Jesus’ dignity. "You will never wash my feet." Right. Isn’t the real problem Peter’s own pride? Peter resists vulnerability. He wants to remain in control, to chose for himself what gifts he will accept. Yet to be truly human is to receive as well as to give.
What gifts are we too proud to receive? What makes us think that we are too good to be served by someone who loves us? We Calvinists speak of the priority of grace, but our stubborn self-sufficiency tells another story.
From this story we can learn humility to receive.
The second lesson is a lesson in hospitality. So much of service in Christ’s name is tending to the small, nitty-gritty, annoying and exhausting things that make community possible. Who’s got towels? Who will empty the basins? Who will bake the bread?
Someone – I don’t know who – someone who has never planned a potluck supper or taught a Sunday School class, or hosted a meal for homeless people – someone who hasn’t got a clue about how to be church – has said "Don’t sweat the small stuff."
The truth is, it’s the small stuff that makes all the difference. As servants of the Servant, no task is beneath us. It’s the small stuff that is the stuff of ministry.
A few months ago I was munching on one of those egg salad finger sandwiches at a funeral reception in this room. I was talking to a distant relative of the person who had died. "My, my," she said, "Your church must have a good caterer."
"Caterer," I said. "This was all made by church members."
Her eyes teared up. "You did all that for us?" Then she whispered in my ear, "My cousin hardly ever went to church."
"Yes, I know," I whispered back. "But we do."
A lesson in humility. A lesson in hospitality. And last, a lesson in hope. Those 12 pairs of feet included the feet of Judas, who, as Jesus well knows, is about to betray his Teacher and Lord. Also included are the feet of Peter, who, within a few hours, will deny that he even knows Jesus.
A sacrament is an outward sign of an inward grace. In this sense, foot washing is a kind of sacrament – a sacrament of reconciliation – or at least, the hope of reconciliation.
In the act of washing their feet, Jesus is offering the possibility that Peter – yes and Judas, too – will one day be reconciled with him. He knows they will betray him, and yet he serves them. There is no enemy who cannot be overcome by God’s love in Jesus Christ.
There was a Forum on World Evangelism a few years back. At that forum a foot-washing liturgy took place between the members of formerly divided communities. Hutus washed the feet of Tutsis, and Tutsis of Hutus. Israelis washed the feet of Palestinians and Palestinians of Israelis, and an official of the South African government washed the feet of white apartheid activists
Even if you don’t take part in this foot-washing liturgy tonight, give some thought before you come to this Table to those in your life from whom you are alienated.
How, in some alternative way, might you wash their feet? Remember, when we get to the heavenly banquet of which this Table is a foretaste, your enemies will be there – sitting next to you. And that’s a promise.
Humility. Hospitality. Hope of reconciliation. Our Teacher and Lord has given us an example. Our Teacher and Lord has given us a new commandment.
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