|
John 13: 1–17, 31–35
|
Tonight is a night of symbols; of a dinner eaten hurriedly before
a great deliverance; of water that gently washes away the dirt and
grime of the world; of bread and wine that sustain us on our
life’s journey, even as they become the physical presence of our
risen Lord. No matter that we cannot enact these symbols together as
a congregation this year; our shared remembrance of them brings
them to life.
|
|
Behind every one of these symbols there is love –– the love
of a parent for a child –– that would feed the child before
they left on a long trip, that would wash the child and keep her clean,
that would find a way to be there for the child when he or she felt
lonely or afraid.
|
|
So tonight it’s not the symbols themselves that demand our
attention. It’s the love with which those symbols were given
and performed by Jesus on the night before he died. For he knew that
this was his last night among his friends. He knew that from this
moment on they would have to carry on in the love he had shown to them.
So he gave them these symbols as vehicles for that love.
|
|
The dinner eaten hurriedly before a great deliverance was an ancient
symbol, one the Jews had known from their earliest years together as
a people. It was the Passover dinner of roasted lamb and unleavened
bread their fathers and mothers had eaten before the great Exodus
from Egypt.
|
|
But the bread and the wine were new symbols, as was the gentle and
lowly gesture of foot washing.
|
|
Matthew, Mark and Luke all report that towards the end of that Passover
meal, Jesus took a fresh loaf of bread, thanked God for it, broke it in
pieces and passed it out among them. Though they didn’t yet
understand it, this was the pattern of what was happening to him.
In fact, this was the pattern of what would happen, not just to Jesus,
but to all his disciples – including us. For he chooses us, he
takes us, and he blesses us. And then he breaks us, in ways only each
one of us can tell. Finally, when we are quite sure that this is his
work, his operation, and not our own, he begins to use us in his
Kingdom to accomplish his will. But this was more than just a pattern.
It was his very life he was giving to them. “This is my
body,” he said, “broken for you. As often as you break
bread together, do this in remembrance of me.”
|
|
So the meanings stack up, one on top of the other, until there are
so many we can’t put it all into a few simple words. He feeds us,
he sustains us, he cares for us. He offers us a pattern – in his
own life – of what our lives will look like if we follow his
example. And every time we eat of that bread, believing, we experience
His Presence with us. And that Presence encourages us. It gives us
hope. His Presence keeps us going.
|
|
But that wasn’t all that momentous night. He has much more to
give us, to show to us. For then he took his own cup, poured fresh
wine into it, and began to offer it to each disciple, in turn.
“This is my blood,” he said, “of the new covenant,
which is shed for you. As often as you drink it, do this in
remembrance of me.”
|
|
This time they couldn’t miss the implication – his blood
was going to be shed, poured out – for their sake. And as in any
new covenant sealed by the shedding of blood, this covenant bound them
to him. Only this time it was a covenant not of threat of what would
happen if they weren’t faithful to him, but rather a covenant
of promise –– of all he would do for them, just because
he loved them to distraction.
|
|
For this covenant was closer to a marriage covenant than anything else.
In Jewish custom, you shared wine from the same cup only with the one
you were promising to marry. And the disciples would have known
this – as surely as we know when we see a man place a ring on a
young woman’s finger. He was asking them to share his life
with him.
|
|
The way the tradition worked was this. When a man desired to marry a
woman, he and his father went to the young woman’s home, to talk
with her and her father. While the fathers discussed the bride price,
the young man took out a cup and poured fresh wine into it. If the
young woman chose to share the wine with the man from his cup she was
saying, in effect, “Yes, I will share my life with you.”
So in that moment, as the disciples shared the wine with Jesus from the
cup he offered them, they were making promises to one another in a
covenant deeper than words. The gift was
life. . . and the reason was love.
|
|
But there was one more symbolic action he gave them – and
us – that evening, and that was the foot washing. And the foot
washing was a different symbol altogether; a graphic example of the
kind of love they were to offer to others. They had watched him,
day after day, loving others in all kinds of practical
ways – healing, blessing, sharing meals, sharing fellowship.
Now their mandate, their mandatum if you remember your Latin, was to
do as they’d seen him do – to love others in the same
way – gently, tenderly, cleaning away the mess of the world
someone had traipsed through, and leaving that one refreshed, cleansed,
ready to go out and try again.
|
|
That’s why we call this night Maundy Thursday. For on this night
we remember all he commanded us to remember – the Body, broken
for us; the Blood that was life –– not only shed for us,
but shared with us. And finally the foot washing that symbolizes
the practical, humble service we’re to offer each other in love.
“Love one another,” he said, “as I have loved you.”
|
|
So tonight, even though we cannot be with one another physically,
we remember. Not just the symbols, but the love.
|
|
Amen
|
|
