Sermon preached by The Rev'd Nicholas Lang

St. Paul’s on the Green, Norwalk, Connecticut

Maundy Thursday – March 20, 2008

 

In the dining room of the house in which I grew up was a large framed picture of Jesus and his disciples at the Last Supper. Perhaps you had one in your home as well or are familiar with this picture. Everyone is seated at the table, which is strange because they actually reclined. This meant that your feet would be at face level to whomever was sitting next to you—a problem because the roads were very dusty and they wore sandals. To address this, the host would have a slave available to wash the feet of all guests as they arrived for dinner and this job was given to the very lowest hired hand on the totem pole.

 

But this night was different. When the disciples began to arrive in the upper room that had been selected for this Seder meal, they saw the bowl and the basin and the towel—but there was no foot-washer. It is interesting that none of them stepped up to this task, probably either because of a false sense of pride or their hurry to claim a place nearest Jesus.

 

If you are at all familiar with the wonderful ritual of the Seder, you know that it tells the story and is the memorial of the deliverance of our Jewish sisters and brothers’ forefathers from bondage in Egypt. It is a great festival of proud thanksgiving. The youngest member in the family is charged with the asking of questions. "Why is this night different from all other nights?" asks the child.

 

Can you imagine the impact that had on the desciples at that Passover Meal, the Last Supper they would eat with Jesus before his death? They had seen Jesus remove his robe, tie a towel around his waist, take up the basin and pitcher and begin to wash their feet. We only know Peter’s reaction to this but don’t you wonder how the rest of them reacted? And what about Judas? When Jesus washed his feet did their eyes meet? Yes, this night is certainly different from all other nights.

 

When the washing is complete, Jesus returns to the table and explains what he has just done, “I have set you an example, that you should do as I have done to you.” He has tuned the expected hierarchical stuctures upside down. To follow the example Jesus gives us means to create a community of equals in which all are served—the faithful as well as the unfaithful. Oh, this night is different from all other nights.

 

Then in the middle of their meal, Jesus takes real, broken bread and real poured-out wine, and identifies himself with this food and drink as his very body and blood and he gives these sacramental signs to his uncomprehending friends. And, again, he gives them an instruction just as he did after washing their dirty feet: “Do this in remembrance of me.” Clearly, this night is different from all other nights.

 

A lot will happen after this meal: a walk to a garden, a betrayal, an arrest, a triple denial, a trial, a beating, another walk to a hill, a crucifixion, a death, a burial. But, when all of this is history and they have grasped the reality of his resurrection, they will remember this night—over and over. They will recall his tenderness, his humility in the washing of their feet, his manadatum, the new commandment to love one another. They will remember how this night was so very different from all other nights, from all the other Seders of their lives. Every time they enter a home and have their feet washed they will remember this night and how their Lord knelt in front of them. And they will remember how much he loved them and that he gave his life for them.

 

Tonight we remember and by the power of the Holy Spirit we enter this past memory as a living reality that is with us here in the present. We see in this ancient ritual of our church the Jesus who tied a towel around his waist, took up the basin and washed twenty-four dirty, callused, smelly, feet. And then here, right here in this room, we do likewise and by that sacred action we discover a way to live in a model of self-giving and servanthood. What we will do in a few moments is to act out God’s radical love for the whole world. And to remember—the broken bread. This shared cup. These washed feet.

 

In her book, Things Seen and Unseen, Nora Gallagher shares her experience of one Maundy Thursday. “The room is still, the air is gentle. Sometimes people embrace after they have washed each other’s feet. Katrina is standing at the end of the room, barefoot. Richard Bass, a towel draped over his arm like as waiter, is helping Esther Schultz to her seat. I kneel down before a thin woman I’ve seen a few times at church. Her foot is nothing but stretched skin over bone. As I hold it, I realize that Jesus knew a secret: to wash someone’s foot, if it is a voluntary act, engenders compassion. The lowly, unprotected foot, not the wise hands or head, is vulnerable, unmasked. I think, There is a reason for all of this.”

 

There is a reason for all of this: to create a community of equals in which all are served—the faithful as well as the unfaithful and to be saturated by God’s radical love. May we, like the desciples who gathered so long ago in an upper room. leave this place and the memory it creates knowing deep in our hearts that this night is different from all other nights. And, because of it, so can tomorrow be. So can tomorrow be.