Maundy Thursday, April 9, 2020;
ICCM in Diaspora; Pastor Rebecca Ellenson
Washing and feeding, washing and feeding, it is a rhythm we are familiar with. My mom used to instruct us to, “Wash up for dinner” and I did the same things when my kids were little. Now during the Coronavirus we are especially familiar with washing and feeding. How many times a day do we wash our hands? I bet we are all eating so many more homecooked meals than we have in years. Our awareness is heightened right now.
The chaplain of a Baptist Children’s home in Texas tells a story about one little boy who never wanted to wash up. The housemother had to ask him four times one day to get washed up for dinner. He stomped past her, muttering, “All I hear around this place day after day is ‘germs and Jesus, germs and Jesus.’ So far, I ain’t seen neither one!”
Washing and feeding… I remember when my children were newborns—it seemed like all I did was wash and feed, wash and feed those hungry little ones. We begin our lives dependent on others, washed by other’s hands and fed the food that will sustain us. Gradually we learn to do things for ourselves and then even to care for others. Being washed and fed evolves into washing and feeding oneself. Dependence develops into self-reliance. And we come to live with the illusion of independence and self-sufficiency. Right now we are tested by the isolation. I know I am more aware of how much I need other people and how much I miss them when I am unable to gather with friends and family.
On Maundy Thursday, when we read the story of the last supper, complete with the story of Jesus washing his disciple’s feet I think of my great aunt named Rubye. She and her husband Chuck lived in Moorhead, my hometown. They didn’t have any children and lavished lots of love on me and my sister Betsy. I was sick a lot as a little girl and when I had to miss school my mom would bring me either to my grandma’s house or to Rubye’s house when she went to work. Rubye and Chuck were fun to be with—they played cards with me and fed me lots of treats. Rubye was a big woman, very big. She had arthritis and diabetes.
As she got older it got harder and harder for her to move about and care for herself. Our roles changed some over time. After I got my driver’s license I would visit them on my own. I got allergy shots every week at a clinic near their house. I stopped to see them nearly every week and we would play cards and visit. I know how much they looked forward to those days.
Rubye and Chuck had a neighbor named Faith who also came to visit them every week. She brought them groceries and she also provided some personal care for Rubye. Faith would tend Rubye’s big, arthritic, and diabetic feet. She washed her feet and trimmed her toenails and massaged her sore bones. She took care of Rubye’s bunions and corns. I expect that Rubye looked forward to Faith’s visits even more than my visits. I expect it was hard for her to accept such intimate service, to be washed by someone else.
Footwashing—it’s a personal thing, uncommon in our lives, handwashing we can relate to. But for the disciples, washing up for dinner meant not hands but feet. Footwashing was an absolute necessity in Palestine. The road and pathways were packed-down soil. During the dry seasons they were covered with dust. In rainy weather they turned to mud. Footwear consisted of cured leather sandals. Before entering a home, feet had to be cleaned. Large water jugs were put beside the door for that purpose. Richer homes had foot-washing servants.
Jesus and his disciples, like many people of his time, may not even have worn sandals. If that was the case, then they really would have needed a foot washing that day. Since they wouldn’t have had a servant to wash feet, the disciples probably took turns doing it for one another.
On this one night, the night of the Passover, Jesus was the one who took up the task. Maybe they had been bickering about whose turn it was. It wouldn’t have been the first time they fought over status and who was the most important. Over and over again the disciples showed a silly stubbornness, not unlike the kind of quibbling between siblings over whose turn it is to take out the garbage or wash the dishes.
I imagine that Jesus ended the bickering by teaching a lesson with his actions. He humbled himself and evidently embarrassed the disciples in the process, exposing their pettiness with his loving service. He demonstrated powerfully that greatness is shown most of all in service. His actions spoke louder than any words could. Those actions said, ‘I love you. I will serve you. I send you to serve one another.” Then, in case they didn’t get it through his example he told them.
John 13: 12-17, 34-35: After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, ‘Do you know what I have done to you? 13You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. 14So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. 15For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. 16Very truly, I tell you, servants* are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. 17If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them… 34I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. 35By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.’
Maundy Thursday brings us up to the threshold of this Most Holy Time. It brings us right up to the betrayal of Jesus, to the cross, and to the tomb, reminding us that what matters most is not our independence and self-reliance, but those things that Christ does for us. Today shows us that we need to be washed and fed by Christ.
We cannot gather right now, so our entry into the dark agony of Jesus’ passion must be a solitary one, were in the quiet of our own homes we can consider how he was denied, mocked, whipped, killed and buried. The one who came into the world with love and justice was pushed aside and hung on a cross to die.
Part of me, and maybe part of you too, would rather turn away from this part of the story and from the nasty grisly parts of life. If we can’t have Easter dinner, with all the trimmings, chairs crowed around a family table, if there will be no egg hunts this year, couldn’t we just move right through to resurrection?
If we consider the cost of life and freedom in Christ we can glimpse the depth of God’s commitment to us, to justice, to love. Even as Jesus was being plotted against and set up to die, he offered love and gentle personal service and a meal to his followers. He offered himself as hope and truth and ultimate victory over the worst this world has to offer.
Washing and feeding. I am hungry for the table of the Lord, hungry for the words, given and shed for you, in remembrance of Christ. I am hungry for community, for nourishment and strength, for forgiveness and peace and purpose. Especially now, when danger is invisible, carried on human droplets, when our patterns are disrupted, when we worry for our loved ones who work in essential services or for those with underlying health risks. We live covered in the dust and germs of this world’s struggle. In the rituals of the church we are washed and fed.
Jesus gave a command: To love as he loved, to forgive as he forgave, to give as he gave, to pray as he prayed, to help as he helped, to do as he did. And he provided the food we need for the tasks. This year as we sit at our isolated tables, remind us that we are united in one Body, the Body of Christ. As we eat whatever food we have and drink whatever drink we pour, remind us that Christ is our bread and blood. Christ supplies our needs, fills us with himself, gives us new life, new hope, and new strength we need to fulfill his command. Amen.