Sermon at The Church of the Holy Apostles, New York City,
April 13, 2006, Maundy Thursday: Year B
by The Reverend Peter R. Carey

Exodus 12:1-14a
Psalm 43 & 78
1 Corinthians 11:23-32
John 13:1-15

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

One of my favorite books begins, “Life is hard.”  And indeed it is.  I’m sure there isn’t a single person here who’d disagree with that.  But life is also sometimes wonderful and full of joy and full of hope. 

But recently, at least for me, life has seemed a bit harder than usual.

There’s been so much going on that leads even a confirmed optimist like me to discouragement and weariness.  So much going on in the world and in our country and even in our church.   

The war in Iraq gets worse and worse, doesn’t it?  And the situation in our country seems just awful to me.  The corruption and dishonesty and greed and bungling and hypocrisy just go on and on and on without any end in sight.  And hardly any one seems surprised or outraged by it any more.  I think we’re all just too exhausted to be outraged. 

And now the report by the Special Commission on the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion has come out.  It addresses the nettlesome question of whether the Episcopal Church can ordain openly-gay persons as bishops and bless same-sex unions and still be a part of the Anglican Communion.  That report too is deeply discouraging. 

Some of you may not have read this document and others may not even have heard about it.   But what the report comes down to, once you cut through the rhetoric, is the recommendation that the upcoming General Convention in June should reverse what the last General Convention did.  Although this isn’t a done-deal, this proposal will undoubtedly carry great weight at the General Convention. 

It leads one--or at least it led me--to want to throw up my hands in despair.  Does our church really think that its gay and lesbian members are that expendable?  And will our government—and all those in authority--ever hear the voices of undocumented immigrants, of the homeless, of the hungry, of those without health insurance, of the disenfranchised, of those who work in sweatshops, of the poor, of those who languish in prisons, of the marginalized and the exploited?  

So, faced with all this, and faced also with the individual problems that each of us faces, we have to ask:  is there any comfort, is there any hope to be found in our celebration of Maundy Thursday in this year of our Lord 2006? 

Well yes, of course there is!  The good news of what God did for us in Christ is now and always has been and always will be good news.  News that can give us strength and hope and courage if we look for it. 

And surely we can begin to find strength, and hope, and courage in this evening’s readings that tell the story of what happened on the night before Jesus died.  Those good things are there--if we look for them.  

One of the things that becomes clear when you hear the story of what happened on that first Holy Thursday evening is that Jesus must have felt a deep sense of foreboding as well as a sense of sadness and betrayal.  In Matthew’s version of the events, Jesus says quite explicitly, “One of you will betray me.” 

Even though all of the apostles had disappointed our Lord in one way or another in the past, that night’s betrayal would be more bitter than the others.  It would lead directly to his condemnation, to his brutal suffering and to his death.  So Jesus was no stranger to being misunderstood and to being misrepresented, as well as to being rejected and even betrayed.  

And yet what is remarkable amount Jesus on that night is that, despite his feelings of disappointment and discouragement, he didn’t do what he might have done.  He didn’t run away.  Instead he faced what he had to face and he endured what he had to endure—as an example for us and for our sake. 

In fact instead of fleeing, our Lord did two of the most generous things that are recorded in the Scriptures.  First, he took some simple things into his hands, bread and wine.  Then he blessed the bread and wine and gave it to his friends and told them that this food was his body and blood.  That this was his pledge that he would stay close to them while they did the work that he would commission them to do in the world and that he would help them and bring them to life eternal with him.   

Then, as if that were not enough, Jesus did a second remarkable thing.  He washed the feet of his disciples and in doing so he taught them HOW to do the work that they would be sent out to do. 

Foot washing was a common practice in our Lord’s time.  It meant that you took care of your guest.  It meant cleansing and refreshment and welcome. But the head of the household did not offer this service personally.  It was done by a servant or slave.  A person of higher status never washed the feet of a person of lower status. 

But Jesus did just that and it was a shocking and unheard of thing to do.  He connected high status to service.  He said: “You call me Teacher and Lord; and you are right, for so I am.”  I am your teacher.  I am your Lord.  I am all of those things. 

And yet the teacher washed the feet of the students.  The Lord washed the feet of the disciples.  The strong washed the feet of the weak.  The high washed the feet of the lowly. 

The story of the washing of the feet, then, is a story about power and how it should be exercised:  when the Lord of the Universe deigned to wash the feet of his disciples, he established a pattern and a model for all who would be strong, for all who would lead—for presidents and bishops and governors and mayors and parents and preachers and teachers. 

We should not shrink from any those callings.  But we also need to remember what power and office and authority are for:  to serve others.  

“If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.  For I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done to you.” 

So there is plenty of good news to be found on this Maundy Thursday.  Plenty of reason to take courage, to give thanks, to find hope, to gain insight. 

It is a good night for us to resolve not to run away.  But to face with courage what we need to face and to do what we need to do in this life.  It’s also a good night to realize what true responsibility is and to call all those in authority to that.  And above all, it is a good night for us to give thanks for the great gift of the Eucharist, which feeds and sustains us as we work to make this a better world. 

Finally it seems to me to be a good thing to remember that Maundy Thursday is not the end of Holy Week.  Easter is.  Maundy Thursday marks the start of Jesus’ passion and death, but Easter marks its end. 

So, yes, life is hard.  Sometimes very hard.  But life is also sometimes wonderful and full of hope and full of Easter joy.   

The one who took the bread and wine into his hands and the one who washed the disciples’ feet.  He is the very one who can fill us, on this special night, with hope. 

Amen.
 

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