Be Known to Us in Breaking Bread - Easter 3B April 19, 2015

Today, we continue in our 50 day Easter celebration with stories of the very newly risen Christ, and how the disciples understood their world and their faith in light of a Christ who was crucified, died, buried and resurrected.

The Gospel of Luke starts in the midst the dramatic first day after Jesus’ resurrection. Here’s what’s happened just before we pick up today’s reading.

The women go to the tomb, don’t find Jesus and instead find two men in lightning white clothes, who tell them Jesus has risen.  They return to the other disciples, who don’t believe them. To see for himself, Peter runs back to the tomb, finds it empty, and wonders what’s happened.

So as of now in Luke’s account, no one has seen the risen Christ. The apostles in Jerusalem don’t yet know, hadn’t seen, and couldn’t yet believe in the risen Christ.

That same day, two of the other disciples were traveling to Emmaus. Jesus appears to them, but they don’t recognize him. They invite him back to stay with them, still not recognizing him. It isn’t until later that first day, when Jesus took bread and gave thanks, that then – only then – do they recognize him as Jesus.  So those disciples, not part of the 11, quickly return to Jerusalem, to share what they’d seen, who they’d met, and how they’d come understood.

Still reeling from Mary’s claim of the risen Lord, Peter’s testament that the tomb was indeed empty, and now hearing of another incident of the risen Lord, Jesus appears in their midst.

The Eleven recognized him as Jesus but thought they were seeing a ghost.

No, Jesus assures them, look at my hands and feet. Look at my flesh and bones.

Then, further demonstrating he’s human, Jesus asks if they have anything to eat. Still in disbelief, they share broiled fish and once again share a meal with Jesus. Just three nights earlier they’d shared a meal with Jesus, what they’d since come to believe would be their last. And now, here they were again.  Everything was back to normal. But nothing was normal.

It’s after they shared the meal, the Gospel tells us, that their minds were opened to the meaning of the Scriptures.

What is the Gospel in this story? What is the Good News?

One thing we know from this story is that Jesus returns with pierced hands and feet. Clearly, the wounds could have been healed; Jesus has been raised from the dead. So the fact that the wounds are present and that he pointed them out to the disciples must be important. Christ renews and restores us, and yet he comes back with wounds and scars.  Maybe those lingering wounds are to tell us something about this renewed and restored life we’re promised. Christ is scarred and wounded at the hands of those he loved and served.  Maybe the lingering wounds of Christ tell us that the wounds may happen, can’t be undone, but don’t define or limit us.

Richard Rohr, a Franciscan Priest talks about the difference between pain and suffering.  He says pain is something that happens in this world.  We are pained, and we can’t necessarily avoid it.  But he says, suffering is something over which we have some more control.  Suffering is what we go through because of the pain.  It’s the replaying of hurts, the holding-on of grudges. Some suffering will always accompany pain. And some we perpetuate by holding on long after the scars are set.

The risen Christ suffered and was in pain.  The scars are proof of that.  And risen, there’s proof of the pain that occurred.  And even with what he went through, the suffering is gone.

It is unlikely that we will make it through this life able to avoid all pain and suffering.  And yet, scars and all, we too will be renewed, restored and forgiven.

The other thing I find striking is that Jesus and the Word are initially unrecognizable.  Mary at the tomb didn’t recognize him until he called her name.  The men on the road to Emmaus didn’t recognize him until he broke bread with them.  The apostles had closed minds until he shared a meal and gave thanks and then their minds were opened.

These people knew him when he was on earth and they didn’t recognize him or understand.  Clearly the risen Christ wasn’t exactly the same as the Jesus they’d known; something was very new and very different.  Maybe at that at this point in his time on earth, Jesus who was fully human and fully divine, after his death and resurrection, maybe he was appearing to others on the divine side of that spectrum. Maybe they couldn’t recognize him because what they were experiencing was so far from their understanding or experience as humans, or of humans. What he was doing, rising from the dead, and appearing in the midst of a gathering, was so divine, they couldn’t clearly it. It’s only through very human interactional activities that Jesus is recognized.  He calls Mary’s name. He shares a meal, and gives thanks. It’s when he again interacts with his disciples in human, relational ways, that they see and understand.

Be known to us in breaking bread, and do not then depart. Savior abide with us and spread, thy table in our heart. If these words sound vaguely familiar, they should. We just sung them.
Be known to us in breaking bread. One of the fundamental ways we recognize Jesus is through very human interactions with very ordinary things in very ordinary settings.

As Christians with a sacramental theology, we believe that through the Eucharist and Baptism, /through sharing bread, and wine and water, that we will surely and certainly experience God’s grace.  Surely and certainly.  And while those sacraments are a sure and certain way, they are not the only way. That is not the only place we experience God’s grace, where we meet Christ. We will also meet Christ through those other human contacts in the world. It is through and with other people that we will recognize Christ and understand the Word.  In order to seek and serve Christ in all people, we must start by interacting with them!

In these stories and in our faith, Christ is recognized through bread, water, wine, the calling of a name, the sharing of a meal.  None of these things are hard, or beyond us. We don’t need special equipment or experience.

To recognize Jesus in our world, we need to share a meal. Enjoy the fellowship, and the breaking of bread. We need to listen when our name is called.  Sometimes, it’s an outside voice. Someone calling your name who needs your help. And sometimes it’s an inside voice, where God is calling you to do something. Listen. When I listen and respond, I can recognize Christ. Not every time, but I think that has more to do with me not listening, than with Christ being absent.

If we don’t engage, love and serve others, we risk missing Jesus in our midst or we don’t truly understand the scriptures, just like the disciples in today’s reading. It’s often through the interactions with others that we experience the redemptive power of Christ.

We need to get our hands dirty, to listen when our name is called, to break bread. This is not pain-free or without personal risk.  And it is what we are called to do.

The reading from First John says that we are children of God.  Today. Right now. And while being a child of God is a good thing, the promise of that reading is even better. It continues to say that what we will be has not yet been revealed. We don’t know what we will be. But what we do know is that when Christ is revealed, we will be like Christ.

So if you put it all together, today’s Good News goes something like this.  We may not inherently recognize or understand Christ on earth any better than the disciples did that first day. Christ reveals himself to us in basic things and simple experiences we can understand. Through bread, wine and water.  When someone calls our name, or asks for food, or when we share a meal.

And when Christ is revealed in that exchange, when we recognize Christ in that bread, wine, service or response to others, we begin to become what we were always designed to be – more Christ like.  We will be love. We will have the ability to love Judas, to wash Peter’s feet.
This is not to say we will be unscathed. Resurrected Jesus had wounds.  But through our connection with the risen Christ, we gain unconditional-love-in-action that overflows without regard to the impact to us or the worthiness of others.

Carroll Simcox, Episcopal Priest and theologian said,  "We think of ourselves now as human beings. We really aren't that - not yet. We are human becomings. If you are living in Christ, believing in him and trying to follow and obey him as the master of your life, you are by his grace, becoming ever more and more like him."

Be known to us in breaking bread, and do not then depart. Savior abide with us and spread thy table in our heart. Amen.

Because I have washed your feet

Tonight we  celebrate Jesus’ last night with his disciples, and it’s so packed with intense emotions, that it’s hard to take it all in without putting yourself in that situation.  And since none of us can really put ourselves in that situation,  I’ll share a story about a situation for me that was close.  If it’s helpful to put yourself in the situation, great. If not, think of a situation that’s meaningful for you. A story that has closeness, adversity, community, betrayal. The point of a story is to put us in the place where we can not only sympathize or feel bad for or about the situation, but empathize, and feel like they feel.

About 15 years ago, I was working as the assistant city manager of a suburban Seattle City.  The manager was an old, grizzled, no-nonsense Oklahoman, with a very direct and clear communication style.  He supported his staff, and was well loved by the City Council.  Until..   At some point, the council wanted him to be softer, gentler, kinder. To make a long story short, they decided to fire him and after much gnashing of teeth, the City Council scheduled the meeting where they planned to vote to fire him.

Of the 8 department directors, 4 of us supported him, while the other 4 had helped mount the mutiny that resulted in a divided community, divided staff and divided council.  So that fateful night, the four of us sat vigil with him as the council deliberated in private.  We all knew the outcome. We sat with our leader who knew his time was ending. It was an uncomfortable, hard evening, full of bitterness, thoughts of betrayal, and sadness, and a few smiles.  In the end, they fired him effective that night, and I left the city a few days later.

The air was charged with strong polar feelings and emotions.  Anger at the staff who’d started this. Sadness that our team had fractured. Gratitude for the opportunity to spend the last night with him.  It was so overwhelming that some of us supporters left in the middle of the evening, unable to sit with all of that raw emotion.

This feels like it might be similar to the feelings and emotions that night in that room with Jesus.

There are conflicting emotions and sentiment, equally strong at their best, and their worst.

All of the readings so far have a sense of promise and hope. The Gospel contains some incredibly tender, compassionate words.  Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.  You can almost see the mournful look in Jesus’ eye as he looks at his disciples, knowing what was unfolding with them as individuals – with Judas who would betray him, Peter who would deny him, all of them who deserted him.  He also knew this was the end of their collective life together.  This was the end. And he knew it.

Knowing all of that, knowing that this was the end, he broke bread with them. He spent his last night with this group, loving them where they were. Not trying to change the course of the evening, or of their individual stories.  He was willing to love, without strings or expectations.  He shared a holy meal with them, and loved them to the end.

But in the middle of the meal, he stopped, got up, and washed their feet. If you think it’s awkward in 21st century Oregon, it was awkward then too. It is true that foot washing was a normal thing back then. Streets were full of dirt and sewage, and their sandals offered little protection. Routinely, a slave would wash the feet of guests who came in for a meal. It was a sign of hospitality, as well as hygiene.  But it was a very classist thing to do. The lower class people did it for those of higher stature. The slaves for the master.

And no one did it this night.  None of the other disciples would stoop so low as to show they were lower than the other disciples, even in order to wash their Lord’s feet.  So instead, Jesus showed them servant leadership. He got up from the meal, and washed their feet. They protested, similar to how we will protest.  No don’t do that. It’s gross.

You’ll never wash my feet, cried Peter. But once Jesus explained that the disciple’s feet needed to be washed to be a part of him, Peter was in.  Wash all of me, he said.

But here’s the thing.  Not only did Jesus wash their feet to serve them, Jesus washed their feet to model for them what service was really supposed to be.  I can imagine their incredulous faces, as he -  their lord and teacher washed their feet.  He quickly turned this loving act of service for his disciples into a commandment to his disciples.  By this time, it might be expected that Jesus would serve.  He’d been doing that throughout his ministry.  But that’s not enough. No, Jesus expected them to do the same.  Because I your lord and teacher have washed your feet, you now should wash each other’s feet.

That is the moment, I believe where the disciples saw and felt what Jesus was trying to tell them all along. Your job now, is to stop enjoying your meal, get up from the table and wash the feet of those around you. Regardless of your comfort, the tastiness of the meal, or the lowliness of those you’re washing.  Regardless even whether they are good to you – Because remember, Jesus washed their feet knowing the betrayal of Judas, the denial of Peter and abandonment from them all that was coming.  It’s not my job any more. It’s yours.

On this incredibly charged, difficult night, this moment is when I believe Jesus showed them what love your neighbor really looks like. How it’s awkward, and maybe not invited, and not tidy. And doesn’t follow social norms or society’s expectations about who deserves it. This is one of my favorite verses from the bible indelibly marked on my soul.

After this awkward, loving, human example in deeds  of loving each other, Jesus clarifies the new mandate with words. You should love each other as I have loved you. If you do this, people will know you are my disciples.

And at this point in the evening, the disciples couldn’t feign ignorance about what that love is to look like. They’d seen love in action.  And they couldn’t feign ignorance about what it felt like, or how to make it real.  Jesus showed them. They felt it.  Jesus was love in action to the disciples. He’d shared his final meal with them.  He’d washed their feet.  Love in action.

On this night 2000 years ago, after the dinner and after the foot washing, Jesus’ story changes drastically, with the darkness of betrayal, capture, humiliation, torture, murder shortly to come.  We mirror that in tonight’s liturgy.  Soon after our celebration of the Eucharist, everything - the service, our words and actions take a very different tone. We strip the alter. We read very somber psalms. And like Jesus’ disciples on that night, we flee the scene in silence.  Today is the first day of a three-day service, a single service that spans Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil.

Tomorrow, the second part of the service, has no beginning or ending. For Good Friday, we’ll gather in silence, and leave just as abruptly as tonight. Tomorrow, we celebrate Jesus’ death. And finally on Saturday night, we gather around the new fire, light the paschal candle, and after retelling the salvation story, finally get to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection.  In a few weeks, we’ll finish that three part celebration, of Jesus death, resurrection and ascension.  For now, we celebrate the death and resurrection.

Tonight, we prepare and we get tools to help get us through.
It’s a lot to take in. Thinking about celebrating death, resurrection and ascension. As a culture, we don’t like death very much. Certainly it is a bittersweet celebration at best.  But as Christians, we are to celebrate death, starting tomorrow.  Not with streamers and candles, but in a deeply meaningful way. It is a celebration.

Saturday night is the first celebration of the resurrection, connected powerfully to today and tomorrow. The resurrection is easier for us to celebrate. He lives.  Then we spend 50 days celebrating the resurrection, with a full 50 days of Easter to break out the candles and chocolates.  After that, when we don’t think we can take any more Easter celebration, we celebrate Jesus’ ascension, where Jesus leaves the earth again, ascending to the Father.

Upon his departure of course, we receive the gift of the Holy Spirit to be our comforter.  But regardless, Jesus ascends and leaves this earth.

That departure can leave us feeling alone.  Whether it’s struggling through tomorrow’s celebration of death, feeling anxious as the disciples did after the Ascension, or whether it’s just a dark time in our own lives, here’s the brilliance of Maundy Thursday. Tonight we get a glimpse of the tools to help us through all of that difficult darkness.

That last night, Christ looked the disciples in the eyes, and told them they were to love each other. To think of him. To serve each other. During the dark hard times of the next few days and any dark time beyond, we are to love each other. Comfort each other.  Share food with each other. Serve each other. Just like the disciples, in community we are less alone.

Whether it is the darkness of Good Friday, or beyond, we have the light, and we are commanded to share that love in real tangible uninvited messy ways.   Christ has shown us the way.

Christ remains with us. God is in you, and by sharing your love, by serving, feeding and healing, you share God’s love.
Just as I have washed your feet, so you should wash each other’s feet.
Amen.