Maundy Thursday (John 13:1-17; 31-35)  4/17/2014

Listen to an audio recording <select here>

Earlier this week many people took time to remember an event that took place one year ago; a tragic event that ripped through the streets of Boston and ripped through the lives of many, many people. We wish we need not remember days like these, but there is some powerful truth about our common life together that is unlocked and exposed for all to see as we experience events that are beyond our control. The bombing at last year’s Boston Marathon was a day that held this truth for us. The marathon in Boston is not just another sporting event, not just a special day for people who like to run distances that immediately make the rest of us wonder where we left our car keys. No, the marathon is a special part of Boston’s character and spirit; run on a celebratory day that remembers the town’s unique place in the struggle that led to the birth of our nation. The bombs did not simply create the tragic deaths of three people and the injuries of hundreds more, but they shattered the peaceful patterns of people’s understanding of a day that had been celebrated for generations. In the immediate aftermath of the bombs’ destructive force, both people and the community’s sense of peace lie in agony. And if that were the end of the story, it would certainly be a story we would hope to soon forget, but that moment was only the beginning of the larger story that continues to this day and beyond. The larger story is the story of the powerful truth about our common life together, and this is the story we must not forget, this is the story we must remember as we gather together in later days. As the Governor of Massachusetts said to those gathered in Boston this past Tuesday, “There are no strangers here. We are all connected to each other, to events beyond our control, to a common destiny.”^[i] The powerful truth of that common destiny is that we are called to serve each other, in times filled with joy and in times filled with sorrow.

This evening we hear the story of Jesus’ last meal with his friends, his last opportunity to teach his disciples how to care for each other, how to learn from each other, how to love each other. Jesus alone understood the betrayal and treachery that surrounded that intimate meal with his friends, he alone understood the tragic events that were unfolding in their midst. And in his last moments his first concern was for those whom had been with him throughout his ministry. We hear in our Gospel lesson, “Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.” (John 13:1) Jesus tied a towel around his waist and took up a jar of water and a basin to wash the feet of his friends, an act of service and great humility. The humble act performed by Jesus was so unexpected, Peter hesitantly refused to allow his teacher to wash his feet. Peter’s ability to comprehend something so unexpected was limited by his understanding of the past, his comfort and familiarity with his place and the place of others in his world. Peter’s reaction might resonant with many of us; faced with unfamiliar opportunities for ministry or perhaps new challenges that call us into places where the world appears a bit upside-down, we might hesitate and take a pass, “No thank you, Lord, you will never wash my feet.” And as we push away from Jesus’ example, like Peter, we will hear the promise and invitation of Jesus: “You do not know what I am doing, but later you will understand. Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” (John 13:7-8) And if we do not take up the towel and the basin and care for each other, we are not true to the example set before us this evening.

Nearly two thousand years after the last meal Jesus shared with his friends and little more than one year after the tragic morning on the streets of Boston, the lesson is the same: as children of God, we are connected to each other in powerful and intimate ways and we are called to serve others with love and compassion. The larger story from the streets of Boston, from the school rooms of Newtown, and from every corner of the world where there are those in need, is that we are called to serve each other. In the shadow of the cross, when everything about him must have seemed so dark, Jesus set aside everything to serve those he loved. Yes, the world will always find ways to keep us busy and the hectic routine of our lives may pull us in many directions, but Jesus opens our eyes to a new commandant. “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13:34-35) AMEN

^[i] “Tribute and Mourning Year After Boston Bombing,” by Katharine Q. Seelye, The New York Times, April 15, 2014; accessed online April 16, 2014: http://nyti.ms/1n85KVu