Maundy Thursday sermon

Maundy Thursday 

March 29, 2018

St. Joseph’s Episcopal Church

The Rev. Valerie Ann Hart

Do any of you remember the last conversation that you had with someone before they died? Do you remember where you were, what you did, what that person said? Thirty-five years later I still remember my father’s last words to me. It doesn’t matter whether at the time we know the person is going to die, we still remember the interaction. And if the person knows that they are about to die it gives even more power to those last words. A dying parent will want to share some last bits of guidance for the children, spouses share a last loving good-bye and a teacher longs to impart one more bit of knowledge.

All four Gospels contain a description of the meal Jesus had with his disciples before his death. There are differences between the Gospels, but they all make it clear that it was an extremely important event. Jesus knew that it was going to be his last time to eat with his disciples. As a teacher, he also realized that this was going to be his last opportunity to teach. The last class. The last chance to get through the thick skulls of those disciples exactly what it was he had been trying to teach them

At this last meal he could have talked intellectually. He could have sat with his disciples and said, “Okay, I want you to get the theology right. Here is the exact nature of God, and my relationship with God, and it is important that you believe this correctly.” But he didn’t do that. 

And he could have talked about spiritual things. He could have talked about the things that are kind of hard to understand, like heaven and eternity. But he didn’t. 

Instead that last supper was very incarnational. It was about action. It was about the world, being here, being now. It was about bread and wine and water and a basin and a towel. Concrete things. Simple things. Nothing expensive. Nothing fancy. Things that were in every Jewish household. Bread and wine, water, a basin and a towel. 

Jesus came from the prophetic tradition. If you read the prophets in the Old Testament, you’ll find they often illustrated their teachings by doing outrageous things. Jeremiah at one point took a brand new pair of pants, wore them once and them folded them up and stuck them in a crevice in a rock. Six months later he took them out and they are full of holes. Then he explained that God said this is the Judean people, full of holes in their relationship with God. Another prophet had the king fire an arrow through a window and then said this is how you are going to conquer Syria. Another one went up to the future king and took his cloak and ripped it into twelve pieces and threw the pieces in all different directions to show that the tribes of Abraham were going to be scattered. The prophets did this because they knew that people remembered those kind of dramatic actions. Jesus wanted people to remember his last meal and what he was teaching. So he took some dramatic action.

First he took the bread. Now the bread that he picked up had great meaning, if it was indeed a Passover feast. The unleavened bread represented the flight from Egypt, the hurry to get out of slavery into freedom. The bread represented that freedom. It also represented the manna that God gave people when they were in the wilderness. Bread represents survival, sustenance, the basic foundation of living. It nurtures and feeds. It has a very rich meaning. 

Jesus picked up the bread, and he blessed it. Then he broke it and said, “This is my body, broken for you.” He gave bread a whole new meaning. 

Then he picked up the chalice of wine. The one cup that would be passed around and they all would drink from. The disciples were used to blessing the Passover cup. 

Now wine also is rich in meaning. We call alcohol spirits for a reason. Wine was considered to have spirit in it. And at the time of Jesus there were worshipers of the God Dionysus or as the romans called him Bacchus - the God of wine. Wine was one of the things that was offered at the temple in Jerusalem and poured onto the altar. Wine was rich in significance and meaning. 

Jesus picked up the wine and he blessed it. Then he said, “This is my blood which is shed for you.” This is my blood? This is my blood! Imagine, imagine the reactions of the disciples who were all good Jews. Jews never, ever, ever drink blood. When an animal is killed for Kosher food all the blood is drained out of it. Blood was considered to carry the life force of the animal. That blood, that life force, was only to be offered to God. The idea that the disciples would drink blood? That got their attention! 

Then he said “Do this to remember me.” Well you can be pretty sure that the disciples weren’t going to forget that. 

And if that wasn’t enough, the next thing he did was he took off his outer cloak and got down to his basic underwear, a simple garment much like the albs the clergy and acolytes wear. He was now dressed like a servant might be dressed. Then he took a towel and a basin and a pitcher of water and he began to wash the disciples’ feet. 

It was not like today. How many of you took a shower before coming to the service tonight? We don’t want our feet to be dirty when we come up to have our feet washed. Back then they were wearing sandals, and they were walking on the dirt streets that the chariots and donkeys and camels all walked down. There was the mud, and grim and all the stuff that you would not want to have between your toes. That’s what they were walking through on the way to dinner. So, when you came to a person’s house, if you had been traveling, to have your feet cleaned was a great gift. But it was never done by the host. If the host was rich, one of the slaves would do it, but it had to be one of the slaves that wasn’t Jewish because according to the Torah, you couldn’t make a Jewish slave wash someone’s feet. It was beneath them. So it would have to be a non-Jewish slave that would wash your feet. The bottom of the bottom. If you didn’t have slaves, then if you were a good host you provided a pitcher of water and a nice clean towel and a basin where a person could wash their own feet. But never, ever would the host wash someone’s feet. 

Yet here was Jesus, their Lord and their teacher, down on his knees washing their feet. No wonder Peter said, “don’t do this.” 

After Jesus was finished and had done all these dramatic actions, much like in the prophetic tradition, he began to teach. Now came the teaching that all of those actions were leading up to. 

He said, “Love one another as I have loved you.” Love one another as I have loved you.  

How did Jesus love them? Jesus loved them? Incarnationally, in the material world. Jesus fed them. He offered his body and his blood for them. Jesus got down on his knees and washed their feet - like a servant. That is how Jesus’ followers are to love one another. 

When Jesus said, “Love one another as I have loved you,” he was not saying have a nice warm feeling about everybody, because that is not how Jesus loved people. And he wasn’t saying love in a sort of abstract sense of “well I love everybody in the world”, because that was not the way Jesus loved. The way Jesus loved was material, and real, and right here and in depth. It involved bread and wine, water, a basin and a towel. It meant being the servant. It meant touching with love. It meant offering his life. It meant dying for them.

That was his final teaching. That is what he wanted the disciples to remember. That was the summation of all his teaching and all his ministry. ‘Love one another as I have loved you.’

Now we will participate in the ceremony of the foot washing where we have an opportunity to wash one another’s feet, where we have a chance to physically represent Jesus’ command to love one another. There are two parts here, two opportunities to practice love. 

The first is the humble act of washing another’s feet. To be the care giver. To serve.

The second, and for some, more difficult opportunity, is to let someone else wash your feet. We, like Peter, are confronted with the question of whether we can be humble enough to let someone care for us in such an intimate way? Can we permit ourselves to be vulnerable to this loving action of another?

To love one another means to both lovingly give and lovingly receive. To love is to be willing to be vulnerable.

To love is to live in the knowledge that each and every person here tonight is a beloved child of God in need of comfort and in need of the opportunity to offer comfort.

Maundy Thursday Sermon

I wonder what Mary Magdalene was thinking as she tried to sleep on that Passover evening so long ago.

Sermon

Maundy Thursday, 4/13/06

The Rev. Valerie Ann Hart

St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Brentwood

I’d like you to imagine Mary Magdalene, tossing and turning during the night, thinking about the Passover supper that evening. Perhaps these were some of her thoughts.

What a Passover. This whole week, there has been such an odd feeling. I’m glad we’re in Jerusalem. I usually feel so joyous to be here. I remember so many wonderful Passovers during my childhood, especially the times when my family was able to get to Jerusalem. We’d camp out on the hillside with the crowds. It was a festive time, music, laughter, seeing old friends, talking through the night. But the best part was to see the temple. You could see it from anywhere in the city, and it was always lit up at night. To be so close to God. But of course Jesus tells us that God is everywhere, not just in the temple, and I know he’s right, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop being in awe of it.

Jesus doesn’t seem to be in awe of the temple or the priests. He doesn’t seem to be intimidated by anything. I can’t believe he was driving people out with a whip. I could see how angry the scribes and the temple priests were. I’m surprised the temple guards left him alone. What could he have been thinking? He certainly didn’t make any friends that day. Or maybe he did make some friends. The poor people who were being overcharged seemed to appreciate it.

I’m glad I’m not out in a tent tonight. It was good of our friends to let me stay with them. But as I look out at the hillside and see all the campfires I kind of wish I was out there. I wish I was with Jesus and the others. But he said I was safer in the city. I wonder what he meant by that. There were lots of nights when we all slept under the stars. He never did have a home, just wandering from place to place. I always felt safe with him. Why would he be concerned about my safety tonight?

He has been acting so strangely lately. Even when all the crowds cheered when we arrived, he didn’t seem to enjoy it the way the rest of us did. He looked distracted. That’s just not like him.

And tonight’s meal, how strange he was. Everything was perfect. The upper room was large and airy. It was so well prepared. Everything we needed. Even the food was great. The lamb that Martha had roasted, so moist. She certainly is a good cook.

And I enjoyed making the unleavened bread with the others. I remember as children when we made the loaves that my mother would always remind me why we ate unleavened bread at Passover. I loved the way she talked about our distant grandmothers who had to hurry to make bread for the journey out of Egypt. Every time I make the Passover bread I think of them, excited, afraid, busy with packing and cooking. They didn’t even have time to let the bread rise. And then the years wandering in the wilderness. I wonder how they raised their children. I’ve thought of those women a lot these last months while we slept under the stars, the same stars that they slept under.

But tonight, Jesus was different with the bread. Of course he sat at the head of the table and we were all gathered around, but when it was time to break the bread he looked so serious. I’m really worried about him.

What was that he said? Oh, yes, “this is my body.” What could he have possibly meant by that? He said something strange at the end of the dinner too. Something about the wine being his blood. It scares me the way he keeps talking about his death. Just when things are looking up, just when the people are beginning to see how great he is, he starts talking about death. I just don’t understand. I don’t blame Peter for asking him to stop dwelling on it. I think Peter’s a little concerned about him too. Perhaps it is just the stress of all the crowds. Maybe he’ll take some time away after the Passover. It always does him good to get off by himself.

He did something else strange at the dinner. John told me about it. I was with the women cleaning things up. Evidently he took off his robe and then washed the other’s feet. Jesus said they should wash each other’s feet too, but only Jesus washed feet last night. I wonder what he meant. Jesus often does strange things trying to teach us. He makes me think of the stories of the prophets who would act outrageously in order to make a point. Well, we all know that Jesus is a great prophet so I guess it’s not that strange, but I wonder what he meant. What was he trying to teach us? He was acting like a servant. Hum? Maybe he wants us to be servants of each other. How would I feel about washing someone’s feet? It’s certainly would be humbling.  I’m glad I wasn’t in the room when he did that. I don’t think I would want anyone washing my feet, especially Jesus! I hear that Peter felt the same way. I can’t blame him.

I feel so confused tonight.

It was a wonderful meal. We were all together, yet, I don’t know, I just can’t sleep. I know that something is wrong.

For some reason I can’t get Judas out of my mind. He looked strange tonight. Usually he is so sure of himself, sometimes he even seems a little cocky, but tonight, when I greeted him, he couldn’t meet my eyes. That’s just not like him.

I remember now, Jesus was whispering to him and he suddenly got up. Why would he possibly leave in the middle of the Passover dinner? Certainly nothing can be important enough to do that. He almost seemed like he was sneaking out.

It certainly has been a strange night. I’ll ask Jesus about it in the morning.

But, somehow I know that he is in trouble. I guess the only thing I can do is pray.

And then there is a frantic knock on the door and a voice cries “Magdalene, come quick! They’ve taken him!”

Maundy Thursday Sermon

Here in the midst of Holy Week we remember the last time Jesus gathered for dinner with his disciples. It was a very intimate opportunity for Jesus to share his final teachings. In this sermon I explore why he chose to break bread, bless wine and wash feet. May you deeply experience Christ's love during this holy season.

Maundy Thursday Sermon

St. Barnabas Episcopal Church

Holy Week 2010

Rev. Valerie Hart

Whenever I am in a pine glen or a pine forest where the pine needles are on the ground and it’s warm and the sun is shining on them, there’s a certain smell.  It’s not the same smell as a Christmas tree.  That smells green.  This is the dry brown pine needles with the sun on them in the summertime.

There’s a certain smell, and whenever I smell that smell, I remember the place where I spent my summers in Ontario, Canada.  It was on a lake where there were lots of pine trees.  In the summertime, that smell triggers that memory.  It feels like I’m standing right there. - Scientists have found that the sense of smell is the sense that most clearly triggers memory. 

Do you have any memories that get triggered by smell?  Maybe a certain food that when you were a child was made at the holidays.  Maybe your mother’s perfume or the smell of your father when you gave him a hug.  Do you have any of those kind of memories?  Sensual and vivid?  Those kind of memories are not of words.  You don’t think about that memory.  You relive it. 

On the last night that Jesus had with His disciples, He could have done a lot of different things.  We all know about someone who’s dying and may want to pass something on to their family and their friends.  Sometimes you might even think about what it is you would want to pass on.

There are lots of ways that Jesus could have spent that last night.  He could have written out instructions.  He could have written a whole book like Mohammed did.  Or He could have told a scribe to write it for Him.  He could have told His disciples a clear set of beliefs, spelling out in great detail the nature of The Trinity and the relationship between the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Don’t you kind of wish He’d done that instead of us trying to figure it out ourselves?  But He didn’t.

He could have given them a list of rules, something like the Torah.  If you’ve ever picked up Leviticus, you know that there’s a whole set of rules of how you’re supposed to do things.  On His last night He could have said, “These are the things that I really care about, so make sure that you do this, this way and that that way”, but He didn’t. 

He didn’t choose to do it that way.  Instead He had dinner with then.  He ate with them.  They tasted.  They smelled.  They touched.  Some of us had dinner before this service where we had some of the parts of what a Passover meal might have been like, and it would have had bitter herbs.  Horseradish is what we usually have.  And then a sweet thing made with honey and apples and raisins, bitter and sweet.  There was bread and lamb, unique textures with different flavors. And, of course, the flavors of the wine.  And the smells would have been rich, sensual, material, incarnate.  A very human experience.

Then He took this dinner, and He used it to teach.  Not by giving a grand explanation, not by talking theology, not by setting up rules, but by taking the bread and adding to the blessing when He broke it, saying, “This is broken for you.  This is my body, broken for you.”  And He gave it to them to all eat.  And as they ate it, they tasted, they savored, they consumed it, they chewed it in their mouths and swallowed it.  And that bread that Jesus had blessed became a part of them and fed them.

And then after dinner He picked up the cup of wine.  The smell of wine.  One of my memories of church as a child was that on those days when there was communion I could smell the wine.  It’s a unique smell.  And, of course, there was the taste.  Wine is such a wonderful image.  Back then wine was what you drank all the time.  You didn’t drink water without putting some wine in it because you had to have something to kill all the bugs that were in the water. 

Bread and wine was what you subsisted on.  It’s what you survived on.  That was the main part of every meal.  And here He took the wine and He blessed it.  And He said, “This is my blood, which is shed for you.” 

Now, that is a very powerful statement for us, but for a Jew at that time, that is an extraordinary statement because, you see, the blood of animals was considered to contain the life force, the spirit of that animal. So when a Jew had meat, the animal was sacrificed to God, and the blood was poured out on the altar because they felt that they had no right to consume the blood.  When an animal is killed according to kosher rules, it is hung upside down and its throat is slit so all of the blood can be drained out of it. Jewish people don’t consume blood.  Blood is offered to God.  It is the spirit.  So for Jesus to say that this wine is my blood and that you should drink it must have been an odd experience for his disciples. 

But wine also has another thing about it; it’s an intoxicant.  It’s called a spirit because, you know, when you drink a little bit of wine, you feel different.  You drink a lot of wine, you feel a lot different [Laughter].  You drink too much wine and it’s not good.  But it changes your consciousness. 

He didn’t give them grape juice.  He gave them wine.  And He said that that’s how we should remember Him, by breaking bread and sharing it among us, and by blessing wine and sharing it among us.  He didn’t give the disciples a lot of rules.  He told them to do something - to break bread and bless wine.  Then He did the most remarkable thing of all.

Now this dinner, this Passover dinner, was a really great meal.  At that time they ate in the style of the Greeks, so people are not sitting in chairs.  They were lying on their sides on their left elbow and eating with their right hand.  In John’s Gospel it says that the head of the disciple that Jesus loved was on Jesus’ breast.  This just meant that He was to the right of Jesus, and his head would have rested right there. 

So they were lounging, eating, enjoying the Passover together.  And then Jesus just got up for no particular reason; he got up and took off in his outer garment. It would be sort of like Mr. Rogers taking off his jacket when he gets home.  He took off His jacket, and He just had on His simple garment.  Then He took a towel and a basin of water, and He began to wash the disciples' feet.

Now, washing feet was something that only servants did.  And, according to the law, according to Torah law, you couldn’t force a servant to wash peoples’ feet.  It was against the law to tell them they had to do it because it was considered that demeaning.  And He washed their feet.  What a sensual thing to do.

A friend, for my birthday, took me to go get a pedicure.  You sit in a chair, and someone comes and soaks your feet and then massages them and washes them.  And it is extraordinary to have someone fuss over you like that. 

Now, imagine that it is the teacher that you have been following for months, who you have seen walk on water and bring people to life and preaching with strength, the person you think is the Messiah. This is the person that you walked down the hill from Bethany with. You heard them cheering for the king of kings, yet here he is kneeling there washing your feet.  No wonder Peter said, “No.  Don’t do that.”  Hard to let that kind of love in. 

Jesus did give one command that last night.  He didn’t write it down, but it was simple enough that it could be remembered.  He said, “Love one another as I have loved you.”  “Love one another as I have loved you.”  He said that after He had washed their feet.  Love one another in humility.  Love one another with compassion.  Love one another in service and in action. 

Jesus didn’t talk about what the disciples should think about.  He wasn’t concerned about what they believed.  He was concerned about what they would do.  And He was very visceral and material and incarnate.  This was not an abstract teacher of ethereal knowledge.  This was about bread and wine and dirty feet.  This was here in the body, and it was about action. 

So what Jesus left His disciples with as the last thing was to do.  Do.  Act.  Act in the material world.  Be with one another.  Love one another not in some abstract sense of oh, yeah, I feel a warm fuzzy feeling about everybody in the world.  “Love one another as I have loved you”, on my knees washing your feet.  Love with your actions, as well as your heart. 

That’s what He taught the last day of His life.  That’s what we’re to remember.  And that’s how He wants us to remember Him.  And so we gather on this Thursday night as we remember each year the last week of Jesus’ life.  As we get prepared for tomorrow, for Good Friday, when we’ll remember His crucifixion, so that we can be ready on Easter to receive the great grace and gift of His resurrection. 

Tonight we do.  We do in a very material incarnational way.  We will wash feet, we will break bread, we will share wine, and we will remember the one who told us that we are to love one another as Christ loved us.

Amen.