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  • Writer's pictureRevShirleyMurphy

Love One Another, Maundy Thursday

In Holy Week we are struck by the detail of the events of these last few days of Jesus’s life as they come to life for us. On Maundy Thursday many church members will have their feet washed. We might be one of those people. This action symbolises for us that gentle humble serving Christ who we find kneeling and offering to wash our feet. The intimacy of it is startling. The Son of God, come to meet our needs, to show us how we are to be with one another. This is love in action. Not a powerful love that sways nations and brings down mountains, but a humble serving heart, longing to minister to us, and meet our simple needs and teach us how to meet those needs in others, so that we can become a community that abides for the world.

The ancient designation of this day, this night, is “Maundy,” a form of the word “mandate.” And what is a mandate? It is a command, a demand, an order, an administrative determination, a legal authority, something required. It is mandatory, rather than optional. No choice.

So, what is our mandate on this day? To love one another.

The story of this day, this night, includes dinner with friends, some farewell speeches, the washing of feet, entreaties to wakefulness, sleep, betrayal, violence, absence. It is a night of sweetness and of division, of coming together and ripping apart. The stories we most often associate with this day, this night, and which we remember most fondly, are the stories of a last supper, of Jesus instructing his disciples to “remember me,” of Jesus washing his followers’ feet.

Maundy Thursday is generally regarded as the occasion for the institution of the Eucharist, what some call Holy Communion, to commemorate Jesus’ last meal. Numerous congregations will have a ceremonial washing of feet.

But do you remember, too, the entreaty of Jesus to “watch with me for a little while,” when his disciples wanted to sleep? Loneliness. Abandonment. The quiet of a slumbering night. Do you remember the betrayal of Judas, when he identified his lord to the soldiers? Treachery. Anger. The other disciples responded with horror. One disciple cut off a soldier’s ear before Jesus stopped him. Finally, Jesus was hauled away by the soldiers, the disciples were left alone in shock and grief, Peter stumbled around, lost, denying he even knew Jesus, and the cock crowed. Once. Twice. Three times. The dawning of a new and terrible day when people would be put to death.

This is not a time to be sentimental. It is not a time for pleasant reminiscing. There is nothing charming about this part of our Christian story. Indeed, it has all the elements of a modern crime drama of the worst kind.

I wonder, can we allow Jesus to wash our feet? Can you recognise Christ kneeling at your feet, gently ministering to you, feel the water, the towel, the sure hands and generous heart. Can we receive that tender abiding with us? And say, ‘yes Jesus abide with me’. I take down my guard and my bluster and protest that you can’t wash my feet because I’m the one that looks after others, or ‘there are many more deserving than me’, or ‘I’m alright by myself’, or ‘I’m sure you don’t have time for me’, or ‘I’m ashamed of my dirty feet and the way they are bent and crooked and out of shape’, or ‘I feel too vulnerable to put myself into your hands because I don’t know what will happen to me, whether I will be able to bear the touch and gentleness of your love’. And then we hear Jesus’s words to the disciples ‘Later you will understand.’ All we are asked to do is to place ourselves in his hands and trust his loving purposes for our lives. The disciples did not know what was to happen and neither do we.

This is Jesus who will allow himself to be put into the hands of others, in complete vulnerability, and will suffer and die, for the sake of those whom he calls his friends. This is why he wants to show his disciples and allow them to experience, as that death looms, this kind of abiding. Because in the face of the abuse he will receive, this is the kind of love and abiding, that through his disciples, and we trust in some way also through us, will change the world. In this kind of loving service he will be present with us.

Like the disciples we are torn between our desire to stay and abide and our compulsion to flee, to say ‘I don’t know him, it’s nothing to do with me’, to wash our hands of it and get away from this horrible mess. And yet we are called back, to stay…to be with him, to sit in the darkness of this church later this evening and watch and pray. Because a new way of abiding is being given to us.

In the three synoptic gospels, Matthew, Mark and Luke, we read of Jesus and the meal of bread and wine. Many details are missing from this story. Who prepared the meal? What else did they have to eat? Was anyone else in attendance? These gospel writers have distilled it down to its essence: It was a final meal of bread and wine during which Jesus instructed his followers to share these elements, to remember him in doing so, and to love one another.

In John’s gospel we get a different take on things, a different emphasis, with the story of the foot washing. John tells of a meal, too, but his focus is more on the show and tell: “this is what it looks like when you love one another.”

When we mark Maundy Thursday, we mark the beginning of the end, in a sense. It is the time when Jesus bid farewell to his followers on this earth and gave them final instructions for carrying on in his absence. It was a last opportunity for Jesus to tell them his message and show them what he meant: Love one another; do it like this.

But there is another aspect of the story that we must remember, and we need to tell if we are to be honest, and if we are to fully appreciate the events of Good Friday and the triumph of Easter Sunday. Yes, this occasion commemorates the institution of the Lord’s Supper. Yes, Jesus washed his disciples’ feet.

But we must give consideration, too, to the brokenness of these events.

When we come together Sunday after Sunday to celebrate the Eucharist and proclaim Jesus’ words to “do this in remembrance of me,” what do we do next?

We break the bread.

Breaking bread is a practice steeped in tradition, going back deep into Jewish history. It is also a practical action prior to sharing a meal. Breaking bread is mentioned throughout scripture in connection with ordinary meals, ritual meals and the miracle meals of Jesus, such as the feeding of the 5,000 chronicled in John’s gospel. This breaking of the bread is an important part of the story as the synoptic gospels tell it, yet is absent from the Gospel of John, which we read this day. Why?

For Matthew, Mark and Luke, the synoptics, Jesus shared the Passover meal with his disciples. Jesus ate the Passover meal, ate the bread. For John, on the other hand, Jesus was the Passover meal, the Passover sacrifice, the Paschal Lamb of God who is sacrificed for us. Jesus was present in the actual bread. Jesus was the bread. It was Jesus who would be betrayed and killed and shed the ritual blood that would redeem the people before God.

Jesus was the Passover sacrifice.

And so when we come together for the Eucharist, to commemorate the Lord’s Supper, the Last Supper, and we break that bread, it is much more than simply breaking bread that we may share it out among the gathered community. It is breaking Jesus all over again, that he may be the ritual sacrifice for us.

We break the bread. We break the Body. We break his body, as we have broken our promises, our commitments, our relationships, our community. All. Over. Again.

This is a pivotal point of the Eucharist, a pivotal point of our Maundy Thursday story, when Jesus is taken whole and consecrated to God, and then broken on the altar of our sins.

In the record of the synoptic gospels, Jesus and the disciples are nourished, body and soul, in the breaking of bread and the sharing of a meal, much as we commemorate in our Eucharist.

In John’s gospel, there is a different kind of breaking, a different sort of nourishment. For John, Jesus is the sacrificial figure, but the emphasis here is not on the Eucharist. So that when Jesus washes feet, he is offering nourishment of a different sort. When he breaks himself, lowers himself, to take on water bowl and towel and perform this lowly act of comfort, he is giving life to the words: “Do this in remembrance of me.”

The love of Jesus, the love of God, the love of neighbor, is more than breaking bread in church. It is emptying oneself in love and modesty to be filled with the spirit of God in service to our neighbors.

John’s relation of the story of this day, this night, has a message for us beyond the breaking of bread, even beyond the breaking of the Body of Christ, which we do over and over again in our lives and in our Eucharistic worship.

John’s message is this: Remember me. Love one another. And this is how you do it.

“Love one another” is our mandate for this day. As we break the Body of Jesus once again in the act of breaking bread, may we remember his command to love one another, and better yet, his example given us in the Gospel of John, to take care of one another – in remembrance of our Lord.


Celebrating Jesus in the Biblical Feasts - Dr. Richard Booker

The Three-Day Feast: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter - Gail Ramshaw

Sermons by Revd Katherine Hedderly

Sermons by Machrina L. Blasdell

The Hour is Come - Andrew Nunn

Women of Holy Week: An Easter Journey in Nine Stories - Paula Gooder

The Nail :Being Part of the Passion - Stephen Cottrell

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