John 13: 1-17, 31- 35
Jesus Washes the Disciples Feet
Milwood UMC, Kalamazoo, Michigan
A service of hand washing on Holy Thursday
March 28, 2013
You remember the times that you have sat at the table with family—with loved ones. You had perhaps prepared the meal. You had lovingly made bread and cooked the meat. You had whipped together the desert. You had set the table—a special tablecloth—the plates.
Oh, but it wasn’t really about how the table looked. It really wasn’t even about the food. It was about family. It was about relationships. It was about love.
Do you remember the conversations at your table? Maybe you don’t remember what was said. But maybe you remember the lilt of your daughter’s voice. Maybe you remember the deep growl of a grown-up son. When had his voice become so deep?
Maybe you remember the light. Maybe there was candlelight, and you remember how it glowed on your spouse’s face; how it made the highlights in your grandson’s hair sparkle.
That meal—that time together—the light—the voices—the people—the love. Acts of love.
I remember watching her feed him. They were both so old. He had Alzheimer’s. He could not even remember her name. But they had been married some 70 years. And she would come every night and feed him his dinner. Her hand trembled as she held the spoon. Her own arms were so frail, that her hands trembled. Then later, I remember them holding hands. And she would look into his eyes. There was no memory there. There was only the moment. And in that moment, there was love. Every act of love for 70 years of marriage, summed up in a glance.
This frail couple—holding hands when the memories were gone. Acts of love.
In our passage in John, we see Jesus at the table with his disciples. He had not prepared the meal. He had not set the table. He had not lit the candles. He did not have to feed any of them.
But he did need to show them something. He needed to show them how they would feed each other; how they would care for each other. He needed to show them how they would love each other.
So he got up from the table and took the towel and tied it around his waist and began to wash their feet. It was not about being clean. It was about love. It was about forgiveness. It was about grace. It was an act of love. And it was a commandment. “You shall love each other like this!”
Later he sat down, and he had a meal with them--his very last meal with them. He shared bread with them, and he told them that the bread was his body that he would soon share with the world as a sacrifice.
And then he shared the cup with them, and he told them that the cup was his blood that he would soon share with the world as a sacrifice.
He told them that his sacrifice was all about love. It was an act of love. And it was a commandment. “You shall love each other like this!”
Later, after the meal was over and after they had all left that place, he showed them what he meant.
He allowed himself to be betrayed. And he stood alone in that betrayal.
He allowed himself to be condemned. And he stood alone in that condemnation.
He allowed himself to be nailed to a cross. And he stood alone.
He stood alone so that we would not have to stand alone in our suffering.
He stood alone so that we would not have to stand alone in our sin.
He stood alone as a lonely sacrifice, so that we would never have to stand alone.
“I am with you,” he said. “I will never leave you nor forsake you,” (cf. Heb. 13.5).
It was the ultimate act of love. And it was also a commandment. “You shall love each other like this!”
“You shall never allow each other to stand alone in your suffering. You shall stand with each other in mercy.
You shall never allow each other to stand alone in your sin. You shall stand with each other in forgiveness.
Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another and never allow your sister or brother to stand alone, for you are my disciples—my Church,” (cf. Jn 13:34). Amen.