Inescapable Love: He loved them to the end

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Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Great Vigil of Easter are one, connected liturgy. Tonight, this three-part liturgy begins. There will be no dismissal tonight or tomorrow because the liturgy does not end until the conclusion of the Great Vigil of Easter.

It’s like looking at a triptych—a piece of art with three panels. Maundy Thursday is the first panel.

On this panel, the featured elements are foot washing, the Garden of Gethsemane, Judas, Peter. And, because we’ve walked with Mary Magdalene throughout Lent, we’ll add her to the first panel, too. She is there, of course, but she is not mentioned in the text until tomorrow.

Through Mary Magdalene we learned that proximity—geographical and spiritual—is a central theme in John’s Gospel. Mary Magdalene was often at Jesus’ feet, listening and learning. In her time, close proximity—and learning from a teacher-- were unusual behaviors for an unmarried woman.

Nevertheless, she was that eager, intent student mesmerized by all that Jesus was teaching. Her faith allowed her to see Jesus fully. The proximity she shared with him was both geographical and spiritual.

In the Johannine community, spiritual proximity is a means of divine revelation. And tonight, Jesus will use spiritual proximity to leave us with one more sign (or manifestation) of his divinity.

The low-hanging fruit of the foot washing story is the humility Jesus demonstrates. Many books on servant leadership have used this story as an example of Jesus’ leadership style. But humility is not revelatory. It is not a manifestation of the Divine. For those who will be participating in our adult Sunday school class beginning next week, humility is an outward spiritual discipline borne of an inward spiritual discipline—the discipline of prayer.

Close readers of John’s Gospel will note that there are no words of Eucharistic institution in this gospel--Words like, “On the night before he was handed over to suffering and death, our Lord Jesus Christ took bread….”. The sacrament of Holy Eucharist comes from Matthew, Mark, and Luke. It is not included in this Gospel. Instead, the Johannine community uses proximity in its sacrament—foot washing.

What is a sacrament? It is an outward sign instituted by God to convey an inward or spiritual grace.

In the words of Eucharistic institution, we invite the Holy Spirit to consecrate the bread and wine—to make them holy…that they may be to us the body and blood of Christ.

In baptism, we use water from God’s creation to convey the sacrament of baptism—to be marked as Christ’s own forever.

In foot washing, Jesus will use water and proximity to convey his eternal, indelible love.

Early in the reading, the author said that “Jesus knew his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end”.

During supper, Jesus took off his outer robe and tied a towel around himself. He poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel.

He knelt before Judas. He took the foot of this man with whom he had walked for three years—a man that had served as the treasurer of Jesus’ ministry—a man who thought Jesus had just plumb gone off the rails. And, so, Judas was going to take matters into his own hands. Jesus knew this.

And he washed the feet of his own sheep, who he loved to the end.

Jesus knelt before Peter. He interpreted Jesus’ action as one of humility. He did not understand the fullness of this moment—faith had not yet opened portal for Peter to see the divine sign as it was happening. Jesus knew this. And he washed the feet of his own sheep, who he loved to the end.

The love Jesus demonstrates this night is inescapable—Judas runs into the night to do the deed. He cannot outrun Jesus’ love. Peter will deny that he knows Jesus. Three times! His denial cannot impact Jesus’ love for him. God’s love is unconditional.

In a few moments, each of us will have the opportunity to participate in footwashing. As we kneel to wash the feet of another, we place ourselves in geographical proximity. It is faith that allows us to experience footwashing as something more than just an act of humility.

Faith allows us to see our participation in the Body of Christ. We are able to see Christ in the one whose feet we wash. And, maybe, we are able to see a bit of Christ’s love in our own participation.

Faith brings us into spiritual proximity with Christ…through the broken mess that every one of us is. No matter how badly we do this human relationship thing, foot washing reminds us that God’s love for us is unconditional and inescapable.

Amen.

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Where Love Abides

By Paula Jefferson • 08 May, 2024

When I turned three years old, my mom took me to the pediatrician for a 36-month check-up. Dr. Lynn did all the usual things and then he folded arms and observed me for a while. Eventually, he turned to my mom and asked, “Betty, is she always like this?” Mom said, “yes—this is who she is.” Dr. Lynn said, “I think this is ADHD…Ritalin would calm things down for her.” But, there was a caveat. If Dr. Lynn was wrong, and I did not have ADHD, Ritalin would cause a counter-reaction—and I would be even more hyper than usual. Spoiler alert: I do not have ADHD. My parents talked it over and decided that Sunday morning would be a perfect chance to test Ritalin. Of course, my parents didn’t go to church. They sent my sister and I with Grandma. On Sunday morning, my unsuspecting Grandma picked us up and we went to the little Baptist church in my hometown. By the time Rev. Bolster was leaning to his sermon—waving his arms and shouting for Jesus, Ritalin was coursing through my veins. I wanted to preach, too. So, I slid off the pew and under the pew in front us. Then I began to army crawl toward the front of the church. And, wow, suddenly I noticed all these shiny dress shoes without shoelaces and I began gathering people’s shoes along the way. When I popped up in front of the first row, I had an armful of shoes. I dropped them and ran up the stairs to stand beside Rev. Bolster. None of this activity had affected his sermon. He was still waving his arms and shouting, and was I mimicking everything he did. Grandma finally had enough and came to get me. My first sermon ended very abruptly. Because I was so young, I have no personal memory of this event or the rest of the day before Ritalin wore off. The reason I know the story so well is because, in my family, Sunday dinner was a command performance. After church, my aunts and uncles and cousins gathered at grandma’s home for a big meal. When the dessert plates were finally cleared, the coffee pot came to the dinner table. Everyone pushed their chairs back from the table and then the story telling began. Stories, like the day of Ritalin, were told over and over again. I heard stories about my parents and my aunts and uncles when they were children, stories about when our family came to America, stories about families in our community. We sat at the table for hours. Sunday dinner was holy space, a weekly ritual where the real dish being served was relationship. Today’s Gospel reading places us at the Maundy Thursday dinner table. Jesus has already washed everyone’s feet, Judas has gone into the night to betray Jesus, and now everyone’s pushed their chairs back from the dinner table. It’s that time in the evening when they’re expecting Jesus to teach. Maybe it will be a new parable or a recalling a particular healing or that time when the disciples went out on their own, two by two. But tonight’s conversation will not be a trip down memory lane. Instead, Jesus will speak to them for hours…Chapters 14, 15, 16, and 17 of John’s Gospel are called “the farewell discourses.” All of it happens after the meal. These are the words Jesus felt he needed to say to his family and friends before he moved to the Garden of Gethsemane and the cross. What he chose to say was all about relationship. “As the Father has loved me, [he said], so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. It sounds circular because it is. Jesus is part of God’s life in the Trinity. He has extended his love to us. We are invited to abide in Jesus’ love which abides in God’s love. This is an ever-evolving, never-ending relationship into which the incarnate Christ welcomes you and me. “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends”. Because Jesus said this at the Maundy Thursday meal, it seems like he is referring to the cross. This week, I wondered if he is also reflecting on all of his life. From the moment of Jesus’ birth, his life invited people to come and abide in God’s love. The shepherds, the wise men, Herod—all of them felt a new Presence in our world. Wherever Jesus went, he welcomed people into relationship. He listened, he told stories about his relationship with his Father, and he taught us a new way of being in relationship: As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. He tossed the keys to his life to us, and said “You are my kin…come, abide in me”. Many of you know I grew up in Appalachia, where passing down stories from generation to generation is the fabric of community. We know one another’s stories—and we hold them for one another. We do much the same thing in our congregational life: We read Scripture that tells us about God’s engagement with our world over thousands of years. We recite creeds. We pray as a community for our community. We sing together. We break bread and share the cup of Christ’s new covenant. And then what? We pass these stories to new generations of followers through Christian formation, through our welcome of guests who come to see what the Church means today. We abide in God’s love when we feed the hungry, clothe the naked and bind up the wounds of need. We abide in God’s love when we listen deeply and hold one another’s stories. This is relationship. It is what Jesus offered to us. We are called to toss the keys to our life—St. Christopher’s life—to a community of people desperate to know Love. Amen.