It's time
Commentary
In each of the scriptures assigned for Maundy Thursday there is a near obsession with
time: "This month shall mark for you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month
of the year for you. Tell the whole congregation of Israel that on the tenth of this month
they are to take a lamb ..." (Exodus 12:2-3); "For I received from the Lord what I also
handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of
bread ..." (1 Corinthians 11:23); and "Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew
that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father" (John 13:1). In
each case, the plan of God is unfolding in ways that human beings must come to terms
with even though they cannot have much impact on the outcome. It is time for Exodus
from Egypt. It is time to feast and remember because at a specific time the bread was
broken and the cup was taken in a way that it had never been before. It is time in John's
gospel for foot washing that becomes part of the ongoing life of the church.
Having had several surgeries in recent years, I know what it is like to have the time come when there is no turning back: when if all things go well you will awaken and everything will be different from then on. Success, or failure, or something in between, will now become part of the story that the patient will live out the rest of their life. It felt that way standing at the altar during my wedding. In a short space of time, statuses will change, people will be a part of families in a way they had not been before, as the bride or groom turn out not to be just a passing fancy. After they said it was time, going in for my oral doctrinal exam, knowing that either triumph or more work was ahead was a defining moment.
Maundy Thursday is one of those moments. As John puts it, the hour has come. We are both attracted and fearful of having our status changed. It can bring liberation and it can bring the realization that having once crossed a threshold we cannot go back again.
Each of these episodes as defining moments in the life of the community are revisited and re-enacted so that community repeatedly recalls the time and place when its status and expectations were reshaped forever. At the Seder Service, the youngest child must be able to answer the question, "What makes this night different from all other nights?" In doing so, they become a part of the story. The communion service is a call to remember that on the night of betrayal, Jesus took the bread and the cup. Even though we were not actually there, we are to remember in a way that makes us participants in these events, as we are swept up in the story of being loved despite our own betrayals, denials, and desertions. Jesus himself opens the door to the near sacramental practice of washing feet. It is an act that is not so much a work of personal kindness as it is a leap across the centuries where we find ourselves in union with Jesus. It is an invitation to bring his presence into the world in this time and place because the hour had and has come.
That is the theory, but do we find these stories actually working in a way that each time we recall them we are swept up beyond all time because it was a specific time that God spoke to Moses, or that Paul passed on what he had received? Jesus took not only the bread and fruit of the vine, but the towel and bowl, as well. Do these stories function at least as well as A Christmas Carol does in making us one with a Dickensian world at Christmas or the reading of the Declaration of Independence does in making us one with the founding experience of the American journey? The answer lies in whether we find ourselves believing it is time for Exodus, for coming to the table of remembrance and hope, and whether we find the cleansing Jesus offers that enables us to cleanse one another. In short, do we find ourselves packing our bags and living in expectation of the journey to the promised land? Do we find ourselves in light of the table fellowship living in anticipation of the day when sharing by all will mean hunger for none? Do we feel clean enough to cleanse others?
Exodus 12:1-4 (5-10) 11-14
"This is how you shall eat it: your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly. It is the passover of the Lord." Walter Brueggemann reminds us that this sense of urgency is replicated in the gospel where it is proclaimed "The time is fulfilled and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel." John says now is the hour when "all true worshipers shall worship the Father in spirit and truth." It is time for Exodus to leave behind the way things are for the things that can be. The world of Pharaoh makes children soldiers to fight grown up battles. I am told the worldwide average age of a soldier is around fifteen. The world of Pharaoh makes African children into copper miners and scavengers for toxic and carcinogenic metals that go into the computer that I use daily. "Let my people go." "Pharaoh Think" has resulted in a world in which two percent of adults have more than half of the world's wealth, including property and financial assets, according to a study by the UN development research institute. That means that in a group of ten people, one person has $99, while the remaining nine share $1. It is time for an exodus from any economic understanding that causes reckless disregard of God's intention that humankind was to live in a garden harmoniously with God's creations.
Certainly the fate that befell Pharaoh's Egypt as a result of the failure to let God's people go seems harsh, tragic, and brutal. Gods were overthrown, children were crushed, the earth was incinerated, and the rider and horse were cast into the sea. Our God seems very brutal and vengeful. Yet, what has befallen Egypt is the result of its failure to let God's people go. Is not that the same failure that causes much of the world's current misery? We turn children into soldiers, and rabid consumers, or rob them of their childhood by exposing them to violence that we call entertainment and we shall inherit the wind for doing so. "Let my people go." We work longer, harder hours and know less how to play. "Let my people go." We are so afraid of each other that we are frightened when Muslim clerics fulfill their obligation for prayer on an airplane and the authorities are called. We are so afraid to offend that a ticket agent for British airways is warned not to wear her cross where it can be seen. This past Christmas, a West Virginia community removed the babe from the manger scene in order not to offend or risk lawsuits. In that case, Herod's approach worked -- betrayal and denial of the truth of the story. "Let my people go!"
What are we to do? We are to live on tiptoe in expectation of God's action to free his people. "This is how you shall eat it: your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly. It is the passover of the Lord." It will surely come. Sometimes it comes in the mail as an announcement of a mission trip to Biloxi, Mississippi, for teens to work on post-Katrina cleanup. It comes in a visit from an African pastor from the church with which our church shares a partnership. One of the youth remarks that this is the first time he has seen anything good come from Africa. Pay attention, it is the Passover of the Lord when people are freed from their slavery to stereotypes, from their sense of helplessness. The kingdom of God is at hand.
As we read the text, there is a part of us that withholds our trust just as Peter withholds his trust in the events of Maundy Thursday. Afraid to reveal that he is part of Jesus' fellowship, he cannot speak the words out loud. Not able to let it up to God he speaks from the place of fear. Yet in a world where "Pharaoh Think" causes us to trust more in getting something, getting even, and getting ahead, the story then prompts us to let it be up to God. At the outset of Luke's story, Mary says it: "Let it be to me according to your word, oh Lord." Our true freedom comes less in getting and more in letting others into our lives, in letting go of bitterness and past rages. Our freedom comes from being in a community where we can let on about our hurts and pains and sorrows. "Let my people go!"
The story invites all to remembrance of these events so that even the youngest among us can understand and appreciate what has happened in these actions. We are asked not to betray or desert a narrative that says we have been enslaved, often with our own willing enthusiasm. Yet, we can live on tiptoe knowing that God will act in our lives to set us free. Our trouble is not that we do not know how to get, but that we have often failed to let the God, who will bring us resurrection, into our lives.
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
Paul wants to be very clear that, in describing the meal the Corinthians share, he is not passing on his own personal advice but something that he has received from the Lord. Evidently, the Corinthians had no trouble in eating and drinking on their own but they had not heard that their table fellowship was to model the fellowship that reflected the mind and heart of Jesus. We know that in fact their meal began to reflect something other than the spirit of Christ. Some showed up early and ate up the meal with nothing left over for latecomers. It is not unreasonable to assume that those who showed up early either had the leisure or flex time that permitted them to get there early while the latecomers were disadvantaged by doing the kind of work that did not permit them to get away.
When you come together, it is not really to eat the Lord's Supper. For when the time comes to eat, each of you goes ahead with your own supper; one goes hungry and another becomes drunk. What! Do you not have homes to eat and drink in? Or do you show contempt for the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? Things are not going well at Corinth. Indeed this is the kind of activity, not discerning the body of Christ, which will bring judgment and ill health -- even hasten death.
Certainly there are many things at church that cause us not to discern the Lord's body in the communion meal. We forget that it was on the night of his betrayal that he took the bread and the cup. It was not in a classroom, so to speak, or in the search for fellowship opportunities for the church that he spoke these words. It was on the night of reflection in the midst of knowing his death was coming and wondering how he would be remembered.
In the end, his body is broken, his life poured out for others. In a sense, we cannot break into others lives without having our lives broken. One will find your theology broken in a million little pieces from time to time. Familiar safe patterns of life will be broken by unfamiliar new challenges that cannot be forestalled. Try doing youth group work without pouring out your heart. The battle over what color the drapes should be in the fellowship hall can break your heart and require you to pour out as much understanding, good humor, and love as you can. Long before there is a break in the clouds there is usually a long list of people who have had their hearts broken.
On the night of Jesus' betrayal and abandonment, he chooses to embrace his humanity and ours. He chooses not to harden himself but to offer himself; in the garden he rejects the victory that can come with force of arms for the victory that can come from the force of his open arms embracing the hurts of the world. He chooses not to steel himself for the moment but to open himself to the hour that God has given him to stand before Pilate and die the death that will make others feel more alive. It all takes place on the night that he was betrayed by his own. Paul remembers all this in the choreography of Maundy Thursday because he also remembers that Jesus is the firstborn of the age to come. He has conquered death and all that deadens life. Though few of us on the whole find ourselves us at Maundy Thursday service, most of us believe that the time has come for such a victory in our world.
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
The hour had come for his departure and some of this hour will be taken up by the symbolic act of foot washing. This is the hour and Jesus will have few hours remaining to say what needs to be said and to complete his journey. I suppose many of us would find that this is the hour for some questions to be answered, some parables to be explained, and some healings to be done. Yet, in this hour, Jesus chooses to work through the meaning of the foot washing.
Many of us know what it is to feel unclean -- dirty and ashamed of ourselves. Some of us have been the recipients of dirty looks that have stained our souls with a sense that we are not worthy. Many of us find that we are limping through life with spots and blemishes on our souls that remind us all too well that we are all too human.
In a matter of hours, Jesus will be stained by blood and sweat and who knows what other bodily fluids. In this hour he chooses to cleanse the dirt both on us and within us. Paul puts it this way, "There is nothing in all creation that can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus." Neither the smell of death nor the smell on our breath can block the love of God in Jesus who comes with refreshing water to wipe away shame and establish hope. Neither the blot on our exam book nor a blot on our reputation can block him from coming to us with water and cloth so that we do not feel like one big blotch. The final word over us is not the most odorous thing that we have done nor the telltale scent of personal decay, but the one who comes with a bowl and a towel to wipe away every tear and make all things new.
Peter, like most of us, hopes that hiding the unsightly and the unseemly is the route to go. We tend to believe that exposing the rot or the blemish can only bring ridicule and rejection. But hiding this part of himself from Jesus will bring an end to their relationship. Being Peter, he goes overboard and puts in for a complete bath and rubdown. Of course, this defines the relationship only in terms of what he wants to expose rather than what Jesus needs to wash.
Judas remains unclean because the devil has gotten to him. He is not ready to have his real intentions exposed to the light of day or the hands of Jesus. Judas has not only missed out on what he needs but on what the disciples need to be doing for each other in ministry. This is the hour for those who can reach beyond the stench that often accompanies the homeless to wipe away some of their tears. It is the hour for those who see beyond their disappointment at the first whiff of a family member's breath. It is the hour for those who can take a bowl and a towel in the midst of a stench that takes your breath away and bring grace and dignity to a hospice patient. This is the hour for those who can handle the stain and dirt that accumulates in people's lives. This is the path that Jesus chooses to walk that brings new life.
Application
It is time; now is the hour for exodus, for the life broken and poured out, and for those who can handle the stench and stain of life. Can any week be a holy week if we cannot proceed with these things? What blocks the new life that God would give us other than the inability to live on tiptoe for when we can exit from the "Pharaoh Think" that so dominates our world? Can new life come into our lives without the brokenness that breaks open new possibilities for us? Can there be new life without the outpouring of life that scatters seed everywhere for the sake of seed that will come up somewhere? What deadens us more than our inability to reveal our wounds and let go of the muck that we have accumulated along the way?
It is time to consider this night what may be getting in the way of our journey that causes us to refuse exodus. It is time to reflect on why we deny what God can do with brokenness and the outpouring of love. It is time to accept the one who comes with a bowl and a towel that we might be beacons of hope to others.
Alternative Application
John 13:1-17, 31b-35. In the church where I was raised, the tradition was to have confirmation as part of the Maundy Thursday evening service. This always seemed to me to overload the evening with a bit much. Preaching, communion, confirmation, and Tenebrae all in one night seemed to be a bit more church than low church congregationalists could handle. It was about as high church as we could muster. I suppose this was permitted because it kept the high church impulse to one night.
What really struck me as odd was that, on this night of all nights when Jesus' followers looked feeble and weak, young people were invited to join church. However, perhaps this was the best night for receiving new members. Church is about what God does with the weak and feeble and how on Easter morning the stone will be rolled away for those too weak to move it. It is about how those who abandoned Jesus on the night he was betrayed will be fed again. The end result of this night is disciples hiding away in the upper room in fear, yet no fear can prevent Jesus from coming and standing in their midst and saying, "Peace be unto you." All these years later, it turns out that joining the church on Maundy Thursday was a pretty good preview of things to come.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19
In the United States of America today, the average household carries a credit card debt load of several thousand dollars. If you include auto loans and mortgage into the mix, the total shoots much higher than that. If you multiply this amount by the millions of households the amount of indebtedness is staggering. Then, of course, we look to the government. Here, the debt is beyond one's ability to imagine. Paying for war is not only expensive, it has plunged this nation into billions of dollars of debt -- most of which is owed to other nations.
As a people floundering in debt, this psalm offers an interesting note to reflect upon. It casts the relationship we have with the holy as one where the writer is in a position of "paying back the Lord for all (his) bounty." As far as credit cards and auto loans go, we know how to pay those back -- though perhaps we procrastinate and go deeper still into debt as we make minimum payments and negative amortization mortgages.
But how is it that we repay God?
The quick thinking pastor, of course, will pull out a pledge card and ask the feckless parishioner to give a tithe. Ten percent up front, and there is, of course, biblical precedent for this (see Deuteronomy 26:12). And yes, everyone should tithe to their church!
However, this psalm, and this writer suspects that it doesn't end with the monthly tithe check. As one church treasurer wryly asserted, "If you think you're in debt to the credit card company, think about the debt you owe God." Indeed, everything belongs to God. This is why Jesus could so winningly acquiesce to his questioners on the issue of taxes (Matthew 22:15-22). He, like any good Jew of his day, was quite aware that everything belongs to God. So when he said to give Caesar what belonged to him, it was with no small amount of irony. Nothing belongs to Caesar. Everything belongs to God! The psalmist understands this at the deepest level, and pledges fidelity and full payment. Still, the question of means of payment remains unanswered.
Perhaps the answer for Christians today is best found in Romans 12:1. "I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship." In other words, the gift of sacrifice that God wants is our lives lived faithfully according to God's Word. As we sit at table and remember the sacrifice made for us in the Holy Week, is anything less than this acceptable?
Having had several surgeries in recent years, I know what it is like to have the time come when there is no turning back: when if all things go well you will awaken and everything will be different from then on. Success, or failure, or something in between, will now become part of the story that the patient will live out the rest of their life. It felt that way standing at the altar during my wedding. In a short space of time, statuses will change, people will be a part of families in a way they had not been before, as the bride or groom turn out not to be just a passing fancy. After they said it was time, going in for my oral doctrinal exam, knowing that either triumph or more work was ahead was a defining moment.
Maundy Thursday is one of those moments. As John puts it, the hour has come. We are both attracted and fearful of having our status changed. It can bring liberation and it can bring the realization that having once crossed a threshold we cannot go back again.
Each of these episodes as defining moments in the life of the community are revisited and re-enacted so that community repeatedly recalls the time and place when its status and expectations were reshaped forever. At the Seder Service, the youngest child must be able to answer the question, "What makes this night different from all other nights?" In doing so, they become a part of the story. The communion service is a call to remember that on the night of betrayal, Jesus took the bread and the cup. Even though we were not actually there, we are to remember in a way that makes us participants in these events, as we are swept up in the story of being loved despite our own betrayals, denials, and desertions. Jesus himself opens the door to the near sacramental practice of washing feet. It is an act that is not so much a work of personal kindness as it is a leap across the centuries where we find ourselves in union with Jesus. It is an invitation to bring his presence into the world in this time and place because the hour had and has come.
That is the theory, but do we find these stories actually working in a way that each time we recall them we are swept up beyond all time because it was a specific time that God spoke to Moses, or that Paul passed on what he had received? Jesus took not only the bread and fruit of the vine, but the towel and bowl, as well. Do these stories function at least as well as A Christmas Carol does in making us one with a Dickensian world at Christmas or the reading of the Declaration of Independence does in making us one with the founding experience of the American journey? The answer lies in whether we find ourselves believing it is time for Exodus, for coming to the table of remembrance and hope, and whether we find the cleansing Jesus offers that enables us to cleanse one another. In short, do we find ourselves packing our bags and living in expectation of the journey to the promised land? Do we find ourselves in light of the table fellowship living in anticipation of the day when sharing by all will mean hunger for none? Do we feel clean enough to cleanse others?
Exodus 12:1-4 (5-10) 11-14
"This is how you shall eat it: your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly. It is the passover of the Lord." Walter Brueggemann reminds us that this sense of urgency is replicated in the gospel where it is proclaimed "The time is fulfilled and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel." John says now is the hour when "all true worshipers shall worship the Father in spirit and truth." It is time for Exodus to leave behind the way things are for the things that can be. The world of Pharaoh makes children soldiers to fight grown up battles. I am told the worldwide average age of a soldier is around fifteen. The world of Pharaoh makes African children into copper miners and scavengers for toxic and carcinogenic metals that go into the computer that I use daily. "Let my people go." "Pharaoh Think" has resulted in a world in which two percent of adults have more than half of the world's wealth, including property and financial assets, according to a study by the UN development research institute. That means that in a group of ten people, one person has $99, while the remaining nine share $1. It is time for an exodus from any economic understanding that causes reckless disregard of God's intention that humankind was to live in a garden harmoniously with God's creations.
Certainly the fate that befell Pharaoh's Egypt as a result of the failure to let God's people go seems harsh, tragic, and brutal. Gods were overthrown, children were crushed, the earth was incinerated, and the rider and horse were cast into the sea. Our God seems very brutal and vengeful. Yet, what has befallen Egypt is the result of its failure to let God's people go. Is not that the same failure that causes much of the world's current misery? We turn children into soldiers, and rabid consumers, or rob them of their childhood by exposing them to violence that we call entertainment and we shall inherit the wind for doing so. "Let my people go." We work longer, harder hours and know less how to play. "Let my people go." We are so afraid of each other that we are frightened when Muslim clerics fulfill their obligation for prayer on an airplane and the authorities are called. We are so afraid to offend that a ticket agent for British airways is warned not to wear her cross where it can be seen. This past Christmas, a West Virginia community removed the babe from the manger scene in order not to offend or risk lawsuits. In that case, Herod's approach worked -- betrayal and denial of the truth of the story. "Let my people go!"
What are we to do? We are to live on tiptoe in expectation of God's action to free his people. "This is how you shall eat it: your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly. It is the passover of the Lord." It will surely come. Sometimes it comes in the mail as an announcement of a mission trip to Biloxi, Mississippi, for teens to work on post-Katrina cleanup. It comes in a visit from an African pastor from the church with which our church shares a partnership. One of the youth remarks that this is the first time he has seen anything good come from Africa. Pay attention, it is the Passover of the Lord when people are freed from their slavery to stereotypes, from their sense of helplessness. The kingdom of God is at hand.
As we read the text, there is a part of us that withholds our trust just as Peter withholds his trust in the events of Maundy Thursday. Afraid to reveal that he is part of Jesus' fellowship, he cannot speak the words out loud. Not able to let it up to God he speaks from the place of fear. Yet in a world where "Pharaoh Think" causes us to trust more in getting something, getting even, and getting ahead, the story then prompts us to let it be up to God. At the outset of Luke's story, Mary says it: "Let it be to me according to your word, oh Lord." Our true freedom comes less in getting and more in letting others into our lives, in letting go of bitterness and past rages. Our freedom comes from being in a community where we can let on about our hurts and pains and sorrows. "Let my people go!"
The story invites all to remembrance of these events so that even the youngest among us can understand and appreciate what has happened in these actions. We are asked not to betray or desert a narrative that says we have been enslaved, often with our own willing enthusiasm. Yet, we can live on tiptoe knowing that God will act in our lives to set us free. Our trouble is not that we do not know how to get, but that we have often failed to let the God, who will bring us resurrection, into our lives.
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
Paul wants to be very clear that, in describing the meal the Corinthians share, he is not passing on his own personal advice but something that he has received from the Lord. Evidently, the Corinthians had no trouble in eating and drinking on their own but they had not heard that their table fellowship was to model the fellowship that reflected the mind and heart of Jesus. We know that in fact their meal began to reflect something other than the spirit of Christ. Some showed up early and ate up the meal with nothing left over for latecomers. It is not unreasonable to assume that those who showed up early either had the leisure or flex time that permitted them to get there early while the latecomers were disadvantaged by doing the kind of work that did not permit them to get away.
When you come together, it is not really to eat the Lord's Supper. For when the time comes to eat, each of you goes ahead with your own supper; one goes hungry and another becomes drunk. What! Do you not have homes to eat and drink in? Or do you show contempt for the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? Things are not going well at Corinth. Indeed this is the kind of activity, not discerning the body of Christ, which will bring judgment and ill health -- even hasten death.
Certainly there are many things at church that cause us not to discern the Lord's body in the communion meal. We forget that it was on the night of his betrayal that he took the bread and the cup. It was not in a classroom, so to speak, or in the search for fellowship opportunities for the church that he spoke these words. It was on the night of reflection in the midst of knowing his death was coming and wondering how he would be remembered.
In the end, his body is broken, his life poured out for others. In a sense, we cannot break into others lives without having our lives broken. One will find your theology broken in a million little pieces from time to time. Familiar safe patterns of life will be broken by unfamiliar new challenges that cannot be forestalled. Try doing youth group work without pouring out your heart. The battle over what color the drapes should be in the fellowship hall can break your heart and require you to pour out as much understanding, good humor, and love as you can. Long before there is a break in the clouds there is usually a long list of people who have had their hearts broken.
On the night of Jesus' betrayal and abandonment, he chooses to embrace his humanity and ours. He chooses not to harden himself but to offer himself; in the garden he rejects the victory that can come with force of arms for the victory that can come from the force of his open arms embracing the hurts of the world. He chooses not to steel himself for the moment but to open himself to the hour that God has given him to stand before Pilate and die the death that will make others feel more alive. It all takes place on the night that he was betrayed by his own. Paul remembers all this in the choreography of Maundy Thursday because he also remembers that Jesus is the firstborn of the age to come. He has conquered death and all that deadens life. Though few of us on the whole find ourselves us at Maundy Thursday service, most of us believe that the time has come for such a victory in our world.
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
The hour had come for his departure and some of this hour will be taken up by the symbolic act of foot washing. This is the hour and Jesus will have few hours remaining to say what needs to be said and to complete his journey. I suppose many of us would find that this is the hour for some questions to be answered, some parables to be explained, and some healings to be done. Yet, in this hour, Jesus chooses to work through the meaning of the foot washing.
Many of us know what it is to feel unclean -- dirty and ashamed of ourselves. Some of us have been the recipients of dirty looks that have stained our souls with a sense that we are not worthy. Many of us find that we are limping through life with spots and blemishes on our souls that remind us all too well that we are all too human.
In a matter of hours, Jesus will be stained by blood and sweat and who knows what other bodily fluids. In this hour he chooses to cleanse the dirt both on us and within us. Paul puts it this way, "There is nothing in all creation that can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus." Neither the smell of death nor the smell on our breath can block the love of God in Jesus who comes with refreshing water to wipe away shame and establish hope. Neither the blot on our exam book nor a blot on our reputation can block him from coming to us with water and cloth so that we do not feel like one big blotch. The final word over us is not the most odorous thing that we have done nor the telltale scent of personal decay, but the one who comes with a bowl and a towel to wipe away every tear and make all things new.
Peter, like most of us, hopes that hiding the unsightly and the unseemly is the route to go. We tend to believe that exposing the rot or the blemish can only bring ridicule and rejection. But hiding this part of himself from Jesus will bring an end to their relationship. Being Peter, he goes overboard and puts in for a complete bath and rubdown. Of course, this defines the relationship only in terms of what he wants to expose rather than what Jesus needs to wash.
Judas remains unclean because the devil has gotten to him. He is not ready to have his real intentions exposed to the light of day or the hands of Jesus. Judas has not only missed out on what he needs but on what the disciples need to be doing for each other in ministry. This is the hour for those who can reach beyond the stench that often accompanies the homeless to wipe away some of their tears. It is the hour for those who see beyond their disappointment at the first whiff of a family member's breath. It is the hour for those who can take a bowl and a towel in the midst of a stench that takes your breath away and bring grace and dignity to a hospice patient. This is the hour for those who can handle the stain and dirt that accumulates in people's lives. This is the path that Jesus chooses to walk that brings new life.
Application
It is time; now is the hour for exodus, for the life broken and poured out, and for those who can handle the stench and stain of life. Can any week be a holy week if we cannot proceed with these things? What blocks the new life that God would give us other than the inability to live on tiptoe for when we can exit from the "Pharaoh Think" that so dominates our world? Can new life come into our lives without the brokenness that breaks open new possibilities for us? Can there be new life without the outpouring of life that scatters seed everywhere for the sake of seed that will come up somewhere? What deadens us more than our inability to reveal our wounds and let go of the muck that we have accumulated along the way?
It is time to consider this night what may be getting in the way of our journey that causes us to refuse exodus. It is time to reflect on why we deny what God can do with brokenness and the outpouring of love. It is time to accept the one who comes with a bowl and a towel that we might be beacons of hope to others.
Alternative Application
John 13:1-17, 31b-35. In the church where I was raised, the tradition was to have confirmation as part of the Maundy Thursday evening service. This always seemed to me to overload the evening with a bit much. Preaching, communion, confirmation, and Tenebrae all in one night seemed to be a bit more church than low church congregationalists could handle. It was about as high church as we could muster. I suppose this was permitted because it kept the high church impulse to one night.
What really struck me as odd was that, on this night of all nights when Jesus' followers looked feeble and weak, young people were invited to join church. However, perhaps this was the best night for receiving new members. Church is about what God does with the weak and feeble and how on Easter morning the stone will be rolled away for those too weak to move it. It is about how those who abandoned Jesus on the night he was betrayed will be fed again. The end result of this night is disciples hiding away in the upper room in fear, yet no fear can prevent Jesus from coming and standing in their midst and saying, "Peace be unto you." All these years later, it turns out that joining the church on Maundy Thursday was a pretty good preview of things to come.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19
In the United States of America today, the average household carries a credit card debt load of several thousand dollars. If you include auto loans and mortgage into the mix, the total shoots much higher than that. If you multiply this amount by the millions of households the amount of indebtedness is staggering. Then, of course, we look to the government. Here, the debt is beyond one's ability to imagine. Paying for war is not only expensive, it has plunged this nation into billions of dollars of debt -- most of which is owed to other nations.
As a people floundering in debt, this psalm offers an interesting note to reflect upon. It casts the relationship we have with the holy as one where the writer is in a position of "paying back the Lord for all (his) bounty." As far as credit cards and auto loans go, we know how to pay those back -- though perhaps we procrastinate and go deeper still into debt as we make minimum payments and negative amortization mortgages.
But how is it that we repay God?
The quick thinking pastor, of course, will pull out a pledge card and ask the feckless parishioner to give a tithe. Ten percent up front, and there is, of course, biblical precedent for this (see Deuteronomy 26:12). And yes, everyone should tithe to their church!
However, this psalm, and this writer suspects that it doesn't end with the monthly tithe check. As one church treasurer wryly asserted, "If you think you're in debt to the credit card company, think about the debt you owe God." Indeed, everything belongs to God. This is why Jesus could so winningly acquiesce to his questioners on the issue of taxes (Matthew 22:15-22). He, like any good Jew of his day, was quite aware that everything belongs to God. So when he said to give Caesar what belonged to him, it was with no small amount of irony. Nothing belongs to Caesar. Everything belongs to God! The psalmist understands this at the deepest level, and pledges fidelity and full payment. Still, the question of means of payment remains unanswered.
Perhaps the answer for Christians today is best found in Romans 12:1. "I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship." In other words, the gift of sacrifice that God wants is our lives lived faithfully according to God's Word. As we sit at table and remember the sacrifice made for us in the Holy Week, is anything less than this acceptable?
