Maundy Thursday, 2008 Sermon

Have you ever thought about those people who were gathered at table that Passover when Jesus broke the bread, poured the wine, washed the feet and gave his final instructions? We’ve all seen pictures of it, whether Leonardo Da’Vinci’s depiction of the Last Supper or Dali’s or someone else’s. We’re all familiar with the somber faces, the tense posture of the body. We count twelve men sitting at table intensely listening to their teacher and master. It is a beautiful sight to behold.

But did you ever really stop to think about that group of men around the table? It’s really quite preposterous that these particular men were called to live together in community. There are the fishermen; an uneducated, working class bunch. You can almost smell them coming; hear their bawdy jokes. Peter is the dominant one, always shooting off his mouth and never quite getting it right, and wherever you find Peter, there you also find Andrew. Of course, we know that it’s only now a matter of hours until Peter swears that he does not know Jesus.

Then there are James and John, the sons of Zebedee. There they are vying for position, always looking out for number one and trying to out do the other. Philip and Nathanael also seem to come as a pair. Jesus found Philip and Philip invited the daydreamer Nathanael who was sitting under a fig tree. Could they have been the intellectuals of the group?

Then there’s Matthew the ever popular tax collector. It must have been difficult for the others to trust him, at least at first. He would have been the wealthy disciple.

Thomas is best known for being the doubter simply because he had the unfortunate experience of not being in the room when Jesus made his first resurrection appearance to the disciples. Prior to the resurrection he was the only one bold enough to admit he had no idea what Jesus was talking about—“How can we know the way,” he asked.

Included at table are the other James and the other Simon, Thaddeus; none of whom have any great stories in scripture to define them, other than that they were chosen to follow Christ and they obeyed.

Finally, there is Judas, the keeper of the books, the possessor of the monies, the one who betrayed his Lord with a kiss.

It’s interesting, isn’t it, to contemplate the conversation around that table? It’s interesting to contemplate how on earth they ever got along, how they survived ministry together with what appears to be competing personalities.

But here tonight we have the whole motley crew seated at table. One Last Time.

And it is to these people, this bizarre collective of disparate backgrounds and walks in life, that Jesus introduces a new commandment, a new way of life, a different take on living as he prepares to leave them and go to the Father.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure I would have trusted this new commandment with these guys. They are unreliable, can’t make up their minds, bicker amongst themselves a fair amount and frankly, don’t quite get it even though they have lived with Jesus.

And yet, it is exactly for these men that he ties a towel around his waist. He kneels in front of them. He takes their feet and wipes off the grime and the dirt and the dust. He dries each toe, caresses each heal. Amid the protest they raise, he lovingly prepares them for the journey ahead. He loved them to the end, not only to the end of his life, but to the end of theirs. Following Jesus past his death and resurrection, responding to the call of their Lord, was a death sentence for each and every one of them. He prepared their feet for the journey ahead, he anointed their feet for burial. A simple servant task that speaks volumes. He loved them and invited them to love one another. “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” His parting words, his final command, “Love one another.”

We too are a motley crew, aren’t we? We haven’t come from boats or under trees or out of an IRS office, but we are cut from the same stock as they, we are human beings struggling to understand what this all means and where we fit in the puzzle. Just like the disciples we were called from different places at different times, but our faith journey converges here as we find ourselves gathered at table with Christ at the center, as guest and host. The same words are spoken to us that were spoken to those twelve, “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.”

It seems an easy enough command, but it’s really quite difficult isn’t it? This intimate touching, this sharing of bread, it’s quite difficult.

We’re not so different from the twelve, you know. They were only together three short years and in those years they learned together and grew together and taught and healed and ministered and struggled to share their stories.

That’s what we do. We enter here to learn. We are inspired and we grow. Together we heal. Together we teach the children and each other. Together we mourn. Together we celebrate. Together we play. Together we live as Christians, a people of hope, in a broken and hurting world. We offer rides and casseroles and prayers. Small tokens really, but huge signs of the love of Christ among us. We touch one another in ways every bit as intimate as Christ kneeling and washing feet when we take one another to chemo or create a bracelet or hold a hand during a prayer or hug as we share signs of the peace of Christ or hand out a basket of food to feed a family.

My friends, we gather at table tonight together as disciples of the one who loved us so very much that he poured out his life for us. Christ’s words were not just for twelve men two thousand years ago. Those words are for us. Jesus sees us for who we are—imperfect, blemished, incomplete people. And then he washes away our sin, and invites us to share in the meal. As we leave the table the only command he gives us is that we love one another. May you be blessed this night and always as you continue to show your love for one another just as Christ has first loved you. Amen

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