Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper (Holy Thursday)

There are moments in the Scriptures when the clarity, the impact of what is being revealed is almost breathtaking. It is tempting for us, sometimes, to be soothed, almost deceptively so, by the poetic flow of Scripture, the wealth of images, parables, allegories. It is tempting for us to let the elegance of language and nobility of insight, almost insulate us from the simple, demanding truth involved.

But not tonight. Tonight there is no time for veiled messages, and subtle invitations. The revelation must be clear and unmistakable, even if in that clarity, it is so much the more difficult to accept. And so it was. As Christ and His Apostles gathered to celebrate for what was to be the last time the holiest night of their year, the ritual re-enactment of everything they were, everything they hoped to ever be as God's people, Christ interrupted their meal with word of revelation that was to define them, measure them, and everyone who would ever claim to be one of them for centuries to come. He washed their feet, and He told them that is precisely what they must do, from then on, for one another.

I think it is difficult for us to readily understand just how truly demanding a word of revelation that must have been for the Apostles. We get a hint of it, certainly, in Peter's reaction to what Christ did and said... a reaction of shock, embarrassment. But only a hint. Foot washing, of course, was a common ritual, certainly familiar to the Apostles. It was a simple, expected gesture of hospitality. It as expected that a host would offer a basin of water to his friends and guests as they gathered, so they could rinse the dust off of their feet and enjoy the gathering in greater comfort. It was a sign of welcome, one that was expected from a friend, an equal. But Christ went far beyond that. To ones' self wash the feet of another was to proclaim publicly a great respect, devotion for that person. It was the sort of thing a disciple might do for a greatly respected leader or teacher, or a slave might be compelled to do for a noble. It was to publicly surrender any claim at all to power, or control of any sort over that other person, and to set one's self the task of meeting the needs of the other, utterly on their terms. Service indeed. Service with no claim to any sort of recognition, or return, or even gratitude. Service to the point of self-surrender.

Yet that is what Christ did for His people, and that is what He sends His people to do for one another. I said that Peter's response to this word of revelation was one of shock and embarrassment. And so it was, as is, much of the time, our own. Peter said, "This isn't right. You are doing too much, asking too much of us. You promised us a new Kingdom, now you are sending us out not to be the governors of that kingdom, but its servants. This is not the way it should be." And Christ's response to Peter rings uneasily in our ears. It was not an explanation, it was not even a re-assurance. It was simply a call to faith. He said, "I know you do not understand this. I know it does not feel right to you. But it is what you must do if you would have a share in My heritage", literally, "if you would be any part of Me." And for Peter, that was enough. At that point, he had no idea what to "be a part of Christ" would mean for Him. He must, by then, have strongly suspected the likelihood of the cross. Perhaps he even had a hope of resurrection. After all, Christ had promised something like that would be so. But it didn't matter. Even without approving what he was being asked to do, even without knowing where it all might lead, to be a part of Christ was promise enough.

And in that, that Passover night, Peter was re-enacting the heart of what that vigil meant. Though certainly, by Peter's time, the Passover meal had become an elaborate ritual, requiring planning, skill, even rehearsal, it did not start that way. As the first reading pictures, the first Passover was a ritual of readiness to move, to be led in utterly unexpected directions to an utterly unknown destiny, to be led with no assurance of security, no elaborate plans or preparation, nothing more reassuring than God's word that it will be good. Self-surrender drawn out to an unimagined degree, surrender even of the right to make plans for the course of one's own future. It is that the Apostles gathered to remember and to re-enact in the Passover meal, and it is that to which Christ called them when He washed their feet.

Well, it is that which we too remember and re-enact when we gather as we do this evening to celebrate our Passover meal, the liturgy of the Eucharist. We too must be, we must make of ourselves, a people ready to move, more importantly, ready to be lead. We too must surrender our claim to reasonable, convincing explanations, good reasons for that which we are asked to do by the circumstances of our lives, our communities, our relationships. We too are called to be ready to follow solely on the terms of the One who leads. And for us, the One Who leads washed the feet of His people. So must we. With the same surrender of any claim to control or power, any claim to recognition, or reward, even to immediate satisfaction. We too must treat each other with the respect and devotion modeled by Christ, and revealed by Him as the only way to be a part of what He is. We must do so not only at the altar, in our planned and complex rituals, but in our lives day to day, moment to moment, each time we cross the path of another human being. We must each of us look deep within ourselves this evening, deep into those dark and dusty places within us that must be washed clean. And if we find there anyone, anyone at all for whom we do feel respect, anyone at all to whose service we do not feel devoted, then that person must become Peter for us, or we cannot be Christ. We must wash that person's feet, mentally tonight, and in deeds of flesh and blood tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. Deeds of service, marks of respect, that are open, obvious, clear to all who see us.

So. That is our call this Passover night. We are called to be ready to be lead, lead to an honest service of one another's needs. We are called to do so well aware that this is only Thursday, not only in liturgy, but in our lives. The possibility of the cross, as we follow where we are lead, is very real, and the consolation of the empty tomb still only a promise. The promise that in self-less service there is strength and satisfaction, the promise that the cross does not kill, and the tomb does not imprison. Only a promise, but tonight, it is enough.

Readings: Exodus 12:1-8, 11-14; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; John 13:1-15