MAUNDY THURSDAY 2007
The Revd Deacon Polly Bowen preached this sermon on Maundy Thursday, April 5, 2007.
. . . and he took a towel, and wrapping it about his waist, he began to wash their feet . . .
Tonight’s readings give us pictures of three different rituals, bound together by images of covenant renewal and reminders of God’s saving action.
The first lesson is an ancient memory of the Israelites, eating a hurried meal in readiness for their exodus from slavery. The second lesson reminds us there was never a time when the Church was so unified that it was immune to conflict. The Corinthians celebrate Eucharist, but Paul scolds them for their lack of community.
And finally the Gospel reading: We know there was a meal. We know there was an important new teaching at that meal. Eucharist was to become the centerpiece of Christian practice, the crisis meal that changes lives. Yet John barely mentions it. Instead, he asks us to look even deeper into the heart of the story, to see through the sacrament to another outward sign that conveys grace.
. . .and he took a towel, and began to wash their feet . . .
Think about the feet you’ve washed. Tiny baby feet, new and pink. Toddler-feet, fresh from the newfound joy of mud puddles. Maybe your teenager broke his foot or his leg, and those teenage toes protruded from the cast, and you had to keep them clean. What about the feet of an elderly relative no longer able to care for himself? Or your own feet, tired and callused from long hours of working or walking or standing.
When Jesus took a towel and began to wash the disciples’ feet, they were confused and embarrassed. Think about them. Andrew, James and John, Matthew, Bartholomew, perhaps even some of the women at the supper, and Peter – “Oh, no, no, no, you’re not going to wash my feet!” and then “Yes, oh, yes!” when a glimmer of understanding began. This was an acted parable, and it was going to become a pattern for their lives.
I understand Peter’s hesitation. I’m a nurse, and I‘ve washed countless feet – and faces, and everything in between. But have my feet washed? That’s hard for me. But that’s pride talking, and I know it.
Think about it. Maybe you share that same aversion, that same pride. Not many of us get regular pedicures, and our feet aren’t always our most presentable parts. There are calluses, corns, blisters, ingrown toenails – a whole host of things that make our feet less than beautiful. Think of the
disciples – they had all that and dirt besides, from walking the dusty roads of
. . . but he took a towel, and began to wash their feet . . .
We’ve walked the desert with Jesus these past few weeks. And now at the start of these holy three days, we still have a lesson to learn – a lesson that is caught up in all the other lessons, and yet we often miss it. That lesson is the unity of sacrifice, and celebration, and service . . . and one of the threads that runs through all of them is humility.
This footwashing thing we do is the sort of humble caritas – act of love – that teaches us what Jesus’ love is all about. It’s hard to love as Jesus loves. It means we have to become vulnerable to one another, to let go of our self-reliance. And that might hurt. We don’t like exposing our weaknesses. But it’s not our self-reliance, or even our hard work and right actions that will impel us toward salvation. It’s God’s love in us, reflected back and passed on to those who cross our paths.
. . . and he took a towel, and began to wash their feet . . .
We stand at the center of time, ready to rehearse our salvation-story once again. It’s a time of prayer, and it’s a time of praise. And through the silence, and over the celebration, if we’re listening, we can hear the wail of the wounded sons and daughters of Eve, and if we listen, we can hear our own Savior telling us to bind up their wounds . . . to wash their feet.
Not all of Eve’s wounded children are in far away places; look around you. Not all their wounds are visible; look within yourself. The Corinthians were adept at wounding one another, and so are Christians in our time. Holy Week can be a painful time for divided Christians. It's painful, because this is one time we can’t ignore the social implications of approaching God’s altar. Tonight we’re called to let go of our pride, to bind another’s wounds and allow our own wounds to be bound -–to wash one another’s feet.
Brothers and sisters, you are the Body of Christ, and your feet are holy feet.
. . .and he took a towel, and began to wash their feet . . . and when he had finished, he said to them, “I have set you an example, that you also should do to one another as I have done to you . . .” Amen.
