Lay Everything Aside and Love

An Orthodox icon of Jesus washing the disciples' feet

© Seth Olson 2019

April 18, 2019—Maundy Thursday

Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14
Psalm 116:1, 10-17

1 Corinthians 11:23-26
John 13:1-17, 31b-35

As a child, I had a hard time understanding Maundy Thursday. When I was about six-years-old, my dad and I dropped off my mom and sister at St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church on Southside for this very service, the Maundy Thursday liturgy. Instead of attending the powerful foot washing and Institution of Holy Communion, we drove further into Birmingham to Boutwell Auditorium. “Why?” you ask. Well, so that we could attend a live-action Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles show, of course. The lights, the pyrotechnics, and the action were spellbinding. I walked out of that facility with my feet several inches off the ground. Then, we went back to St. Andrew’s to pick up my mom and sister.

I remember running to the side chapel and being stopped in my tracks as I pulled open the door. Expecting to see smiling, happy faces and a well-lit sanctuary like usual, instead I saw something I had never before seen at church. In the bleak candlelight, I beheld tear-soaked cheeks and solemn faces of the devoutly anguished parishioners who were inside the unlit, cavernous space. And, as we walked from the darkness of the church into the darkness of the night, I tried to comfort my mom. Although, I was confused about the reason for her sadness. So I said, “Don’t worry mom, the ninja turtles will be back someday and you can go see them.” I had missed the point entirely. Like the disciples of old, I couldn’t comprehend what was happening around me that night. I later wondered more earnestly, “What were they doing at church?” I still think that’s a helpful question: What are we doing here tonight?

In St. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians we just heard words so familiar that they may not have even registered in our minds, let alone our hearts. “Do this… in remembrance of me.” Even if these words did not arrest us such that they impacted us deep in our souls, we are familiar with them and to where they point us. The bread and the wine when we gather to remember Christ become His Body and His Blood. We eat and drink them to become the Body ourselves in this sacred, sacramental mystery. This is the most fitting night of the Church year to take part in Holy Communion, and yet our Gospel lesson does not mention bread or wine at all. Again, what are we doing here tonight?

This night is not simply a night when we remember the Institution of Holy Communion during the Lord's Last Supper, it is also a night when we hear Jesus give us a new commandment. This is why, as you may know, we call this night Maundy Thursday. Maundy from the Latin word mandatum meaning commandment. What was Jesus’ New Command?

“Love one another. Just as I have loved you, you should love one another.” What does this love look like? As we search through John’s telling of the Good News, we do not find Jesus sealing this commandment “to love” with bread and wine, but rather with a towel and a basin. As we imagine the teacher kneeling to wash his disciples’ feet, we can hardly comprehend just how strange this act truly was.

Foot washing is odd. It’s just plain weird. We do not normally wash each other’s feet. Sure, occasionally some of us may get a pedicure, but we do not then reciprocate the action of the pedicurist. Other than on Maundy Thursday, have you ever washed another person’s feet or had your feet washed? It is a rare act. And while the altar guild, acolytes, clergy, and congregation, all of us, have prepared for the logistics of this unique night, none of us can fully prepare for how intimate, humbling, and even embarrassing foot washing truly is. This is what we are doing this night, we are remembering Christ’s commandment to love by doing what he did to show this love. We are taking part in the self-giving love that Christ Jesus showed his disciples—the same self-emptying love that God has for each one of us and for all of humanity.

Of course, this almost practical question of “What are we doing?” is not the only one worth pondering this night. Jesus himself made another inquiry. After washing his followers’ feet, he quizzed, “Do you know what I have done for you?” The disciples wisely remained quiet. Even with 2,000 years we still have a hard time comprehending fully what it was Jesus did for us.

John’s Gospel account described Jesus as “the Good Shepherd,” “the Light of the World,” “the Resurrection and the Life,” “the Vine,” and “the One through whom all things were made,” and this one, the Christ, the Messiah, God Incarnate stooped down to rinse off the grim from his friends’ feet. To wipe away the filth caked between their toes remains a subservient act so profound that we mostly come up short in our grasping for modern analogies. Cleaning out a loved one’s bedpan? Bathing a dying parent’s body? Kneeling to wipe vomit from a sick child’s face? These and others come close, but none completely unlock just how powerful Jesus’ loving example was. But, during the next three days, the holiest ones in our common life, we won't just strive to understand foot washing, but all of what Christ Jesus has done for us. What has God done for us through Christ?

Even if we cannot unlock these sacred mysteries, we are called to experience the completeness of Christ Jesus’ saving work. Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday are not about understanding with our minds, but allowing our souls to gaze upon the loving acts of God. These three days we see most clearly how far, how deep, and how wide God’s love is. The acts of Christ Jesus clarified once and for all that nothing separates us from the redeeming love of God.

As the Anglican Divine Jeremy Taylor put it, “Thus God lays everything aside, that he may serve his servants; heaven stoops to earth, and one abyss calls [to] another, and the miseries of humanity, which were next to infinite, are excelled by a mercy equal to the immensity of God.” [1] What has God done for us? God has laid everything aside, crossed the abyss, and loved us. What is more, God has commanded us to love one another.

Thus we bring out bowls and pitchers, we partake in bread and wine, Christ’s Body and Blood, and we leave this church in darkness. We recall in prayer Jesus’ birth, his baptism, his teachings, his healings, and his life. And, we walk with Jesus this night to the garden and tomorrow to Golgatha, to Calvary, and to the Cross. The totality of what God has done we may never comprehend. We may only understand this mystery through a glass dimly, as St. Paul put it. So instead may we, like God, lay everything aside, may we take part in these holy mysteries, and may we love one another as Christ has loved us.

[1] Taylor, Jeremy, 1613-1667, Reginald Heber, and Charles Page Eden. The Whole Works of the Right Rev. Jeremy Taylor. London: Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1847-1856, Volume 2:628-629, https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=uc1.b3944186;view=1up;seq=649. Accessed April 18, 2019.

Just Show Up

My 22 year-old self happened to have more wisdom than I previously thought.

Sometimes life seems awfully complicated. When the bills keep mounting, when our jobs demand too much, when our kids’ extracurricular schedules just do not line up, when a parent’s health keeps deteriorating, or when many other things do not happen the way we wish they would life feels overly difficult. In these and other moments of challenge, it can feel daunting to make even one decision. We may want to respond by simply throwing up our hands and walking away. And, today our culture tells us we can. Society now provides all too many ways to avoid the difficulties of everyday living.

Now seemingly more than at any other time in human history people have access to escapes. Whether it is TV shows, video games, Virtual Reality, psychoactive substances, or many other distractions, we now have very accessible ways to avoid everyday life. Steven Spielberg utilized this premise in the 2018 film, Ready Player One. The renowned filmmaker envisioned a not so distant future when no one worked and everyone found their purpose in a Virtual Reality world. While this movie might appear as an extreme example, the truth that escapism is near an all-time high can simply be measured by how frequently people now use the phrase, “Adulting is hard.” So what are we to do when the difficulties of everyday life have us down? To answer this question let me tell you a story.

Back in the fall of 2006 I was a scrawny college kid with a big bushy mustache and long flowing locks of hair down near my shoulders. That autumn term at Sewanee I was a first semester senior who was unquestionably driven. On top of some seriously challenging courses, leading the residential life program, and working in the chapel as a sacristan, I was serving as the cross-country team’s captain. That season I ran the best times of my life. I met or exceeded almost every goal I had set. I earned good grades, worked really hard, made fantastic memories, and even was selected as an Academic All-American (one of the greatest accomplishments of my life). It would be easy for me to say that my life then was not as complicated as it is now, but it sure felt tough balancing many important commitments. When I wonder how I kept going through it all, one thing comes back time and time again.

Throughout that whole semester what mattered most was not perfection. It was not making the perfect score on a test, coming up with a perfect solution for a res-life problem, setting up the chapel perfectly, or running the perfect race. No, what mattered was showing up. What truly mattered then and why that time was so rich had everything to do with being there in the moment. I couldn't possibly read everything, make every meeting, or hit every pace exactly, but I could be there. Sure, I could say, "This was before the explosion of social media, pre-smart phones, and long before the responsibilities I have now." And yet, this stumbled upon wisdom from that fall long ago calls out to challenge me this week especially.

Sometimes as a preacher, I want everything to be perfect. I want my sermon to resonate so deeply with the congregation, so I reach as I try to hit a “home run” sermon. Sometimes as a liturgist, I aim for services, especially during Holy Week, to be so moving that people leave changed. Sometimes as a priest, I yearn to be such a compassionate pastor, wise spiritual director, and forward looking prophet that I end up in a million different places at once, which is to say I end up nowhere and everywhere else other than where I am. This week though I hear God bidding me, and us not to worry about getting everything perfect. This Holy Week is completely and totally about showing up.

Throughout this holiest of weeks in the Church, nothing we do will add to the saving work of Christ Jesus. We cannot make God's perfecting love any better. Every sermon ought to be about the preacher getting out of the way such that the congregation comes face-to-face with the greatest story ever told. Every liturgy ought to be about the clergy, altar guild, flower guild, readers, Eucharistic ministers, and acolytes pointing the congregation in the direction of what God has done for us. Every day is at its best another opportunity for us to show up and witness the overwhelming, unconditional, and limitless love that God has for us. This week is not about us being perfect or getting everything perfect, this week is about God’s perfection. Holy Week is about God’s fulfilling love, which overcomes all our mistakes, sins, and even death. Just show up and see what God does.