Maundy Thursday
14 Apr 2022
Maundy Thursday is a lesson in power and in politics. I don’t know about you, but I was raised to view power as accruing to someone who had money, great skills, a certain personality, mental acuity beyond the ordinary. Or it accrued by virtue of birth into a wealthy and powerful family. Sometimes it did seem to come by luck or by the winning on a competition. War is the prime example. Power is often sought by aggressive armed conflict.
Ah; here comes Jesus, the dude who rode into Jerusalem through the back gate on an ass. He was the one who had the people crying, “Hosanna”, which means come and free me. And he did. But he did so in a way that has always been difficult for anyone but the marginalized to see. Constantine saw Jesus as the way through the front gate; that is how he was viewed by so many (especially those in positions of wealth and power) for so many years. He still is seen that way.
He created his model for the Realm of God with a basin and a towel. Not but hatching a plot to overthrow Rome, or even try to subvert it, but to serve those whom the powerful would say should serve them! A shared meal, interrupted by the chief attendant at the meal, the leader, grabbing the things that the servant would use and then doing the most menial of tasks.
The mandate? To wash another’s feet was to subvert power as it was understood and practiced. If you were willing to do the most menial thing for the “least of them”, you understood what Jesus was saying. It was not about an affirmation of belief, but rather looking out for the most vulnerable and caring for one’s neighbors. It was not about taking up a sword or accumulating wealth. It was not even about overthrowing what was a horrifically oppressive government (we see just how oppressive it was on Friday.) It was, however, about subverting oppression by intentionally living one’s life, and facing one’s death, in an entirely different and, I dare say, previously unpracticed way of being. My ways are not your ways; my way is of peace through love and a radical justice; not peace through violence or authoritarianism.
The Last Supper was a sharing of the resources of life among the disciples and a model of the sharing we do. It was also an announcement that The Holy One was and is with us and this is how we know that. But not even the last supper held the radical possibilities that were found in the foot washing.
When someone has washed your feet and shared a meal with you, you are bound in a new very intimate and very communal way. Imagine two world leaders on opposite sides of the fence sitting down, offering each other bread and wine, and then washing each other’s feet. It just doesn't happen, does it? Therein is the problem: we pay homage to the Last Supper and we often re-enact foot washing, but we seldom incorporate its deep and radical meaning into our own lives. Think of someone you don’t like very much; someone for whom you might even have disdain and see if you can picture yourself washing their feet. Maybe we should require a foot washing between candidates in political campaigns!
We are to rid ourselves of trying to exert power over others. Jesus is the only sovereign we need and by calling him that and accepting him as our Lord, we subvert and deny any system which does otherwise.
As Ken Sehested so wisely says: “In his presence, we have been acted upon. By his power we are no longer autonomous, belonging only to ourselves, putting our own welfare before all others. We do not become (as the marketing gods insist) consumers for whom “freedom” means the choice between cable or satellite, Mac or PC, window or aisle.”
If I am to imitate anyone, it should be Jesus. Last week we sang a simple but profoundly moving hymn in Denison: I Have Decided to Follow Jesus. As the song then says, no turning back, no turning back.
Let us be the People of God we are called to be. Jesus did not turn back; neither should we.
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