Maundy Thursday

 The liturgies of Holy Week have been provided for us 

from the most ancient of times in the worship of the Church.

They give us a means of expressing devotion to our Lord

            and for nurturing our awakening

                        to the profound realization of our salvation.

That’s why we’re doing all this – for the profound realization of our salvation.

 

We participate in this Maundy Thursday liturgy as a devotional act,

            although our participation is not particularly comfortable,

 

It is not like coming to see or participating in the Christmas pageant,

                        which is so heart-warming and joyful.

But our participation here leads us to spiritual depths 

that cannot be underestimated or dismissed casually from our attention.

 

And so right now, let us enter with the open hearts of devotion

            into this commemoration of the Lord’s Supper,

                        his last supper,

            in which he would change forever 

how we are to regard table fellowship with one another.

 

We know that through sheer familiarity with the Sacrament of Holy Communion

we lose the impact of the radical action 

that Jesus did in the midst of the meal.

He took the familiar bread and wine, part of most all their meals, 

bread and wine, which symbolized hospitality, nourishment, 

bread to strengthen the body

and wine to gladden the heart.

 

He gave them the bread, and then when they had eaten it, he said, 

“This is my body.”

Whoops…                        Did we hear that right?            “This is my body?”

 

And then he gave them the cup, and when they had each drunk from it, 

he said, “This is my blood.”

“This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.”

 

This would have been utterly mind-blowing 

for the disciples there with Jesus.

Jesus was presenting himself as the sacrifice,

            the lamb, whose life was taken, 

whose life blood was poured out in sacrifice.

 

The life of the animal being sacrificed and eaten was in the blood,

life sacred and precious, represented in the blood,

and therefore is reserved for God alone.

And so before the slaughtered animal could be prepared and eaten 

            the blood had to be thoroughly drained from it.

 

Therefore how shocking to their sensibilities this must have been,

so that they could profoundly realize 

that they were taking within themselves the very life of Jesus.

 

This is no mere remembering about Jesus 

                 whenever you come together around the table.

This is about taking Jesus very literally, both physically and spiritually, 

taking Jesus literally into ourselves.

 

And we become what we eat.

            By the eating, 

                        his flesh and blood merge with ours and we with his

            as a very concrete and physical and literal demonstration of saving grace, 

                                                the power to transform us, 

            transformed into the form of our humanity

that has been utterly taken up into the heart of divinity.

 

The communion we share is communion with God, 

and is union with God in Christ.

 

Then the practical application of this communion is expressed

            in the portion of the Gospel that was just read.

Jesus demonstrates the ramifications of this organic union

                        by washing the feet of those with him.

 

And so we also, in obedience to our Lord, wash each other’s feet.

 

Now I would like you to notice

that not only does it take humility to bow down before another

                        and wash the feet, the lowest part of the body,
            the part closest to the grime and grit and contamination of the world;

it also takes humility to expose this part of ourselves – our feet – to one another.

 

We may be embarrassed by how our feet have aged,

            how our feet reveal the wear and tear of life on our bodies:

                        the corns and bunions, the twists in the toes,

                        the thickening of nails, 

                        the lingering odor of shoes made old by work and wear,

            no longer babies’ feet that once were kissed and played with – 

                        “This little piggy went to market,

                        and this little piggy stayed home…”

 

Now the feet describe metaphorically the wear and tear of life in general,

            how in need we are, again, of that loving touch in our lives

                        where there is the most grit and grime,

                        the most contamination of the world,

                        what - after our initial washing in baptism – 

                                    what we habitually pick up again

                                                            that needs Another to help us wash off.

 

One could say that letting your feet be washed by another 

            is sort of like going to confession.

 

And the one who kneels at the feet of his friends,

                                                            silently washing their feet,

            takes on the role of Jesus.

We serve one another as Christ’s Presence.

 

This foot washing is a symbolic and sacramental action

                        in a very personal and intimate way

            where we are Christ for one another.

 

And this is what the world so very much needs:

            to bow down before each other and wash each other’s feet – 

                        Israeli and Palestinian

                        Muslim and Jew and Christian

                        rich and poor

                        black and white

                        those laid off from their jobs and asylum seekers

                        liberals and conservatives

                        fundamentalists and secular humanists

                        those with the political, economic and military power

                                    and those who are disenfranchised and marginalized

                        the victimized and the perpetrators

            all sorts and conditions of humanity

            bowing before each other in the humble, loving, caring act

                                                                        of washing feet.

By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, Jesus said.

 

And then let us come to the table prepared for us,

            this banquet of simple bread and wine,

                        which is none other than that which, 

                                                            if we were to consider what we are doing, 

            would shock the sensibilities – 

                                    the very body and blood of the One we worship.

 

And then in quiet reverence

                        to remove all the symbols and signs of our worship

            until nothing is left but a stark emptiness of holy space

                                                where we may kneel in silence,

            remembering how in the garden 

            at that moment of betrayal by a kiss

                                                all forsook him and fled.

 

We remove each holy item from the sanctuary with penitent and grieving hearts

                        and in profound silence.

 

Strange things we do here in this liturgy,

            actions that link us physically, 

                        as well as emotionally, intellectually and spiritually,

            actions that link us to the Mystery of this whole week, the Holy Week.

 

You don’t have to understand it.

You don’t even have to like it,

            simply accept the invitation and participate,

and enter the gracious holiness of these actions,

 

and see what happens to you.