And He We are

Please pray with me:

Creator God, we give you thanks for the unimaginable journey that you undertook this night long ago. We give thanks for the saving act that brings us to you. We give you thanks for helping us let go and and be your body here on earth incarnate each time we come together.

Amen.

And here we have arrived, on this warm spring night, the golden hues of evening sun wrapping us in warmth and wonder as one thing ends and a new thing begins. Tonight we begin to close the loop on the journey that began at Christmas, when The word that was in the beginning, the word that was with God and the Word that was God shone light into the world. That light that became human and dwelt among us, that light that loved and laughed and lived next to us, in solidarity, friendship, and joy, on this night would follow through with loving act after painful loving act. But, the wisdom of the universe, made flesh would first dine with it’s beloved friends and disciples, and humbly set an example for the world before then laying down it’s flesh to be crucified upon across so that God would be forever linked with all of us. So in that mortal moment we could all look to our own end and find that we will be raised just as Jesus was. Life eternal, death defeated, liberation of all people from fear, pain, and death. One with God the creator, lover of all humankind and spirit of life and inspiration. That story, that LOVE story’s final act begins tonight with a simple meal.

Think back into your own stories, deep — way back if necessary. Can you remember a time of serenity and peace, a moment of perfection, where everything seems completely right, the stresses of the world far way, special people or pets near by. Maybe it’s a Friday gathering of close friends or family, the stresses of the next work week as far away as they can be, so far away as to be almost forgotten, and under warm light of lamp or campfire as a game is played or stories are told. Or maybe in the glow of the television, watching a beloved movie to lose yourselves in. Find one of those times and hold it with you. Go back there for a moment and feel the peace and hope and joy of the moment, separated from all the grossness of the world, a shield of dense trees or dark walls that holds you together in peace and protection from the reality from which we all need to escape sometime. This is not unlike what tonight was for the characters in our passion story for the next three days. The horrible moments of Good Friday and the sadness of death and despair were all to come but in this moment, there were just close devoted friends and the teacher they loved, dining together and telling stories and remembering all the things they had experienced while Jesus smiled at them and loved them.

At least according to John, all the wheels were already set in motion, unbeknownst to everyone there except for Jesus (and Judas), but Jesus’ first act of love was to let them have this time together, let his loyal friends have their moment of peace. And after a time, Jesus knowing what is coming, knowing that this night is the last, makes a shocking move, and once again, as he has time and time again, flips the script, upends the expectations, and begins to wash his disciples feet, an act we reenact every year to honor his example. This was something that only the lowest station would do and a teacher most certainly could not ask his pupils to do such a thing. It was too intimate, of too low a station, and yet, the teacher washes the pupils feet. In our time today, it would not be unlike your best friend, or your supervisor showing up at your house and offering to do your laundry, or clip your toenails. This is madness, right? And the disciples are completely bewildered by this all. And Peter is just plain horrified by it all and makes a great display of it, refusing. And then Jesus tells him that this must be done or he can’t be a part of what is to come, Peter goes whole hog the other way and offers his whole body for washing. You know Jesus had to almost roll his eyes at that. “Oh peter,” he might say, “Just let me wash your feet, that’s all. Stop being so dramatic.”

In his final hours of freedom, Jesus teaches us all a lesson about a life in service to others. In a world where might equals right, where who you know is a measure of your worth, Jesus says they will know us all because we don’t play that game. We serve others, others serve others so that the church, as the embodiment of Christ, called into being every time we come to worship, is devoted to serving, is committed to avoiding the seat of honor and avoiding looking for accolades. We simply serve.

And we are to serve humbly and minister to EVERYONE, regardless of who they are. Judas was there that night and Jesus washed his feet. Peter was there, and he would shortly throw his staunch loyalty by the wayside and deny Christ three times. James and John were there and wouldn’t be able to muster enough reserve to stay awake and pray with the suffering Jesus, who was fully experiencing the dread of what was coming. These were flawed people who would fail Jesus badly and yet he loved them. And yet he washed their feet. They didn’t deserve it. And yet, they received it.

We come here tonight as imperfect disciples ourselves. We are broken and hurting people. We are people who have frustrations and hurts between us, we are a people deeply divided about politics, feelings raw, and tempers on edge at times and yet we are here. And yet you should be here, embraced in loving care and service to each other just as Jesus did his disciples. The disciples would later take the gospel to the ends of the earth and yet they failed Jesus in the darkest hour. What are you holding onto that keeps you from serving. What skeleton is in your closet that makes you feel unworthy of the meal we will celebrate in a few moments? What do you need to let go of so that you can let God? What keeps you from spreading Gospel love in the world. God, in Christ, through the Holy Spirit has already let that go.

You may have heard my “testimony” before, and how I was so angry with God about who I was and why God would not rescue me from myself. And after weeks of angry prayer God did answer my prayers, in love, and surprise. I heard, or felt, or saw these words: “I have always loved you, from the day you were born. I have always known who you are. I have never had a problem. The problem has always been with you.” It was me that was unable to let go and trust that God’s path was the correct path. It was that doubt and fear, the doubt and fear of the world clobbered over me again and again that kept me from letting go and trusting in the beautiful path that God had marked for me. What are you hanging onto, and what can you let go tonight that keeps you from living into your servanthood and loving each other as Christ loved you?

The die is already cast. After tonight the passion story will play out until its glorious and saving conclusion on the Easter Sunday to come. But tonight, as we commune together, as we share a meal, united as one flawed, forgiven and loving family, will you let go and let God? Will you lose yourself in the loving, liminal space that holds in it peace and serenity, certainty that we are all loved. We are all redeemed. We are all servants to the world made worthy through the justifying, events that begin tonight some 2000 years ago. Know church, that you are loved. You are forgiven. You are redeemed. Onward we go to throughthe dark times and straight on until morning into the new thing that is to come.

Amen.