Maundy Thursday 2016 - A New Commandment

March 24, 2016

In days of old, when the disciples came to the meal we celebrate tonight, there were people in the shadows, allowing their meal to take place, uninterrupted. The farmers and land workers who grew and harvested the food. The cooks and bakers. And the servants and slaves. In those dusty days, a guest would have been met at the door by someone with a basin of water and a towel. The guest would remove their sandals, and the servant would wash their feet and dry them. That way, filthy, dusty feet wouldn’t be interfering or dirtying the feast, routinely served to the guests seated on the floor. Given the condition and contents of streets this was both a very important, and very menial job. It was relegated to the lowest of the servants. Foot washers were at the bottom of the class system. Lords, like Jesus, would have been towards the top.

We don’t sit on the floor, walk dusty roads in sandals, and aren’t greeted by enslaved foot washers. We’re not in the same place culturally, so it’s hard to relate. It’s hard to understand the depth and power of this story as an illustration of Jesus’ commandment to us. About what it says about systems, about our duty and about why. Jesus washes the feet of the disciples, and commands us to wash each other’s. So we do. Reluctantly. And we’ve made sure our feet are in relatively good shape when we do. Our foot modern day liturgical foot washing is a sanitized meaningless imitation.

But if we update this story to today, it is so much greater and harder and relevant.

When we go out to dinner, we experience some of the same people and same roles. People making less than the poverty level harvest our food, many undocumented workers. People making minimum wage - or less -  greet us, cook the food, clean up our table after we eat. Prisoners may launder the uniforms or build the furniture. Like in Jesus’ time, we have class systems, perhaps to an even greater extent than they did back then. And all of these systems are in place – low wage jobs, businesses hiring undocumented workers doing low level work for less than minimum wage, extremely cheap labor from people imprisoned - all of these allows us to enjoy a meal, without being bothered by the dirtier parts of life. The system permits or promotes some to be taken advantage of, while others enjoy the fruits of their labors.

In today’s setting, Jesus would have come in the restaurant, taken the bar towel and wiped down the tables, before asking the bus boy to sit. He would have grabbed an apron and knife and set about to make the salsa. He would collect the dirty laundry, and invite the prisoner to rest. He would have cleared and washed the dishes from our meal. The greatest at the table would have performed the dirty, under-valued and often invisible job.

When Jesus took the towel and put it around his waist, he, their lord, was claiming a place at the very bottom of the class system. He was busting the well-preserved roles and systems. He could have taken any job to serve. He took the lowest. Yes, to serve. And to make a statement about roles, class, and the absurdity of deeming oneself better than others.

He was challenging the class system that worked so well to keep the upper class comfortable. By being the lord and taking the towel, he was challenging the system that kept the lower servant class in their place. Similar to dining with sinners, healing on the Sabbath, turning the tables in the temple, Jesus fought those aspects of the system that placed rules or expectations higher than loving God and your neighbor. Today, we are commanded to watch and respond to any force that loves the system more than the people, that fails to respect the dignity of every human being, and that is not just.

He made a political statement about systems and roles. But it was more than a theoretical political statement. It wasn’t just talk. Jesus made his statement with human contact and service at its core. Through the act of washing feet, Jesus connected with his disciples in a very human, vulnerable way. Through person-to-person contact and service. The power of connecting with another through service is incredible, and breaks all sorts of barriers.

Several years ago, I was involved in a foot washing at a one day homeless event in Seattle. I’d washed one guy’s feet. He was a young African American man, all decked out with a sparkly puffy coat, and a gold front tooth. He and I belonged to entirely different worlds. But during the time I was sitting in front of him, he was a young man with no home, and quite a story. With a new pair of socks and clean feet, he left. Later, I was taking the bus back home. There’s a lot of etiquette on the bus. Don’t generally make eye contact. Don’t talk too loud. If you want to sleep don’t sit in a seat with a brighter light as those are reserved for readers. He got on the bus, full of bravado talking loudly to his buddies and breaking all the rules. I sat quietly as everyone stared. He and I made eye contact, and for a brief moment, we connected. He gave me a slight nod of acknowledgement and imperceptible smile, and we both returned to our worlds – with us both playing the roles the class system had defined for us. But for a moment, we transcended that. We smiled at each other from a place of unity. We broke those system standards  and connected regardless of the seemingly impossible barriers.  

But, you may argue, some people don’t necessarily deserve all of this love and service. The addicted or undocumented, the prisoner and the mentally ill. We are so quick to excuse our inaction because of what we perceive as the actions or intentions of others. They’re illegal. They’re drug users. She’s a prostitute. He was rude. As if their presence – their being – is somehow not worthy of our love and respect because of their life circumstances or choices.

But Jesus dispensed with these arguments through his actions that night. You see, he washed the feet of all of his disciples, including Judas. Jesus knew what Judas was going to do. He knew that his friend and disciple was going to betray him personally. And Jesus knew what this betrayal was going to cost. And yet -  he washed his feet.

Love each other as I have loved you. As Jesus loved Judas, we are to love others. Regardless of their story or choices. It’s challenging, and yet there’s something comforting too. You see, God loves us just as we are, regardless of our story or our choices. Jesus would insist on washing your feet in love and service. Jesus simply asks us to extend that love to others – without judgment, and without exception.

This is hard. But I can tell you it is significantly easier after being with them, connecting with them. Getting to know them. You see and share their holiness when you see and share their story.

There’s a guest who attends the Saturday breakfast and he plays the piano. He comes in early to play for the volunteers who cook and set up, and he plays through breakfast. Seeing him downtown, it’s harder to see the child of God. But I’ve heard the music he plays, and see him joyfully play for everyone. In order to be that good at the piano, at some point I can imagine his mother yelling down the hall, “You need to practice, you have a lesson tomorrow”. He’s a child of God, with parents who made him learn to play the piano and a spirit that wants to share.

Another guest is downright kooky in his attire and tattoos. During the week, he’s an unnerving presence in the university area. But on Saturdays, he busses tables like it’s his job. Someone loved him enough to teach him to serve and he still does, despite the fog of mental illness.

These men are beloved children of God. To know them, and hear their story, to share in their life is absolutely holy. When we are able to connect, face to face, or foot to foot with others, it is easy to see their holiness, to see Christ in them. Then it makes sense to serve.  

And when we connect, face to face, we are changed. We have volunteers from St. Thomas at food banks, and the family shelter here at St. Thomas, at the dinner for vulnerable women and at the Saturday breakfast who are changed because of their connection. It’s through serving and loving your neighbor that we are changed.

Our baptismal covenant does a great job describing what this love looks like in action. Respect the dignity of every human being. Seek and serve Christ in all people. Strive for justice and peace. This is what we are called to do. This is what Christ shows us tonight.

Today through Saturday night, we take an introspective journey with Christ in to the mystery of his death and resurrection. Christ loved, and served. He prayed and cried. He was tortured and died. In our grief, we pray and cry. And after a seemingly endless weekend, we celebrate Christ’s resurrection. His victory over sin, evil and death. Christ did this for us. Christ loved us to the point of death, so that we would know his love. Rooted in that overflowing love of Christ, we are asked to share that love, just as we are commanded to do.