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.