John 13:1-17, 31b-35
March 28, 2024
In my first call as an associate
pastor, I didn’t preside over the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper by myself very
often if ever. I assisted my head of staff, but I didn’t stand at that table
alone. In that church someone had made a small booklet that contained the
liturgies for the different sacraments, and a copy of that booklet lived in
each pew rack. It was nice to have it because the liturgy for communion didn’t
have to be reprinted each time we celebrated it. But this also meant that I
just read my part in the booklet and didn’t have to think too much about it.
But then I took a call as a solo
pastor, and suddenly I was in charge. It was me and only me who presided over
the table, and that made me incredibly nervous. I didn’t have the little
booklet anymore, and I wasn’t sure if I should bring the Book of Common worship
to the table with me, so I used to type out the entire communion service each
month and read from that. Doing that helped me begin to memorize the words of
institution. But it didn’t help me completely get over my nerves.
I still get nervous about communion,
even though I’ve presided at the table for a long time now. I worry that I’ll
spill something – which I have. I worry that I’ll knock something over – which
I have. I worry that I will have a memory lapse and forget some part of the
words of institution – which I have. When I would make those kinds of mistakes
as a young pastor, I would experience excruciating embarrassment which took me
a long time to get past. Now, I still get embarrassed, but I’ve learned to
laugh at myself and that helps. In a few minutes we’ll gather at the table
again, and I guarantee you I will be a little nervous because I always am.
Hopefully, I won’t make any of the mistakes I’ve mentioned, but there’s always
the possibility that I might make one or two new ones. But whether I make a
mistake or not, the truth is that the power of what happens when we gather at
this table is not lessened or erased.
Although we don’t read the passage
from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians tonight, which shares the words of
institution that churches everywhere still use some variation of, the story
that we read from John’s gospel is the story of the last supper. It is the
story of the night before Jesus’ betrayal. It is the story that provides the
impetus and inspiration for our sacrament. In our words of institution for this
communion meal, we are called to remember – to remember this story, this night,
this last supper, what Jesus said, and even more importantly what Jesus did.
What do we remember on this night?
We remember that Jesus, gathered at table with his disciples, with all his
disciples, took a towel, wrapped it around his waist, and knelt to wash the
feet of the disciples.
Foot washing was not uncommon. It
was a way of offering hospitality to guests after walking the dusty roads. In
households of greater means and wealth, servants would have been employed to
wash the feet of those dining. In smaller, less affluent households, water
would still have been provided for diners to wash their own feet. Foot washing
was not uncommon, but a teacher washing the feet of his disciples was. It was
unheard of. It broke every social protocol. And the disciples and anyone else
witnessing this would have been stunned and shocked and appalled. We are not
told what the other disciples’ response was, but it is almost certain that
Peter put into words what the others were thinking.
“Peter said to him, ‘You will never
wash my feet.’”
As if to say, “No way, Lord! This is
not going to happen. You cannot wash my feet.” But
Jesus responds that if Peter does not let Jesus wash his feet, Peter will have
no share with Jesus. In this context, a share is a portion or a piece. As one
commentator wrote, Jesus is reminding Peter that he shares in what Jesus is
doing, his ministry, who he is, his love. Peter and the other disciples are
co-sharers with Jesus and therefore with one another. Peter seems to understand
this, and in typical Peter fashion goes too far the other way.
Okay, Lord, if you’re going to wash
my feet, then wash my hands and my head too.
But Jesus reminds Peter that only
the feet need to be washed. And when he was finished, he put his robe back on,
sat down at the table again and asked if they understood what he had just done.
If, their Rabbi and Lord, washed their feet, then they should be more than
willing to wash each other’s feet. Jesus gave them an example of service, an
example of community, an example of love.
That is the first thing we are
called to remember and to do on this night. This is our commandment, which the
word maundy means in Latin. We are to love one another, and our love is
embodied in our service to one another. Jesus was never afraid to upend social
mores. He never hesitated to do what others might think as beneath him. He was
reluctant to put love into action. And that is one thing that we remember on
this night.
Something else that we remember on
this night is that when Jesus washed the feet of the disciples, Judas was still
in their midst. Jesus washed Judas’ feet too. John makes it clear that Jesus
knew this was his last night with them, that he knew and understood this his
hour to depart was at hand. And Jesus knew what Judas was going to do. Jesus
knew that Judas would betray him, and with his betrayal Jesus’ arrest,
persecution, and death would be set into motion. There was no turning back, and
Jesus knew that. So, it is no small thing to remember that Jesus washed Judas’
feet too. To love as Jesus loved, to serve as Jesus served means that we cannot
pick and choose whose feet we decide to wash. Even those who hurt us, even
those who may hate us, are not exempt from our love. Whatever divides us must
not keep us from gathering at this table together. And what divides us must not
keep us from living in community with one another, washing one another’s feet,
living out the love Jesus commanded. Jesus washed Judas’ feet too.
What we remember tonight is that
Jesus did not tell the disciples what to believe. He did not offer dogma but
devotion. He did not lecture. He loved. This is what we are called to remember
tonight, and to remember tomorrow and every day after. What we are called to
remember from this night and from this table is that Jesus showed us through
his example how to live even in the face of death, and how to love even those
who betray and those who deny. That is what we are called to remember on this
night, this night when Jesus took a towel, wrapped it around his waist and
washed the feet of his disciples.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
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