Maundy Thursday 17th April 2025
Readings: Exodus 12: 1-14; Psalm 116: 1-2,11-18; 1 Corinthians 11: 23-26; John 13: 1-7,31b-35
The Maundy Thursday service on the eve of Good Friday begins the Sacred Three Days of our redemption. This is a celebration: a celebration of our Lord's institution of the sacrament of his Body and Blood, and the beginning of our three-day celebration of redemption. But it is pervaded by the shadow of the Cross. Jesus gathered with his disciples in the context of the greatest of all events in Israel's history of the saving power of God, the Exodus and Passover. Yet the normal joy of such an evening was muted by betrayal, failure of his friends to understand what he was doing, and his own fear of what was to come.
It was a farewell dinner in which Jesus, by washing his disciples' feet sought to illustrate, for one final time, the character of love and ministry which is central in the life to which he calls us: self-giving love to the point of dying for one's friends. In our readings this evening we hear the ancient instructions for celebrating the Passover – the reason Jesus, his disciples and the crowds of pilgrims were gathered in Jerusalem. The Second Reading is Paul's account of the institution of what we now call the Eucharist; and finally, John's account of the moment when Jesus washed his disciples' feet.
This holy meal in which Christians continue to share is grounded in denial, betrayal, a disciple’s suicide, a Messiah’s death, the body and blood of this crucified Messiah, and . . . dirty feet.
Jesus gave the mandatum– from which we get the word “Maundy” - to wash one another’s feet”– after he showed his disciples how to do it. This act of humility, he said, is not some kind of side show but absolutely integral to life in the reign of God. It is servant leadership learned in the doing of it. He said of sharing the blessed and broken bread and poured out wine – do this to remember me. He could almost have said the same about washing feet. What would the reaction be like if we washed each other’s feet every Sunday?
We remember in a particular way. For Jewish people who gathered for Passover, it was no mere memorial. They believed that in their Passover meal, the events became real and present to them, that they became a part of it. As Christians, we have the same sense when we celebrate the Eucharist – it is not just a memorial. The events became real and present to us. The Gospel writers had a word for this - “anamnesis”. It’s the word Jesus uses when he says “Do this to remember me. We are not passive observers – we enter the mystery – we enter into the events of this holy night when we act out the washing of feet. We enter the events of this holy night as we give thanks for and share in the meal Jesus gave us as he was about to die.
But Peter with his enthusiasm characteristically misplaced, wants the full-service wash: “my hands and head also, please!” Peter’s foolishness provides the opportunity for Jesus to suggest in advance another friend’s imminent betrayal: “you are clean, though not all of you.”
Peter’s misplaced enthusiasm. The silent treachery of Judas. This fugitive community gathered for the last meal of someone soon to be condemned as a state criminal. Strange beginnings indeed.
Sounds like foolishness – which is probably why Paul wrote in his letter to the Corinthians “For the message about the cross is foolishness” ….and “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stranger than human strength.”[1]
Amid Peter’s misunderstanding and Judas’ betrayal, Jesus sinks down to the lowliest of places – that of a house slave - to reveal the true nature of servant leadership in the Kingdom. This act of love shows truth - the truth of self-giving and self-emptying love. Jesus gives a new command – another mandate – to love one another as he has loved us. Will that love be wasted on us?
Many of you know I’m drawn to the sonnets of Malcom Guite. He comments: “All of this happens on the night Jesus was betrayed. It is not when we have purged ourselves and attained some long-sought moral height that these things are offered to us. It is here and now, in the confusion and ambiguity of our daily life, amid our darkness and disloyalty, where we need him most, he meets us”[2] – and I could add in all the current confusion and ambiguity of our world now, he meets us too.
Here is the source of every sacrament,
The all-transforming presence of the Lord,
Replenishing our every element,
Remaking us in his creative Word.
For here the earth herself give bread and wine,
The air delights to hear the Spirit’s speech,
The fire dances where the candles shine,
The waters cleanse us with his gentle touch.
And here he shows the full extent of love
To us whose love is always incomplete,
In vain we search the heavens high above,
The God of love is kneeling at our feet.
Though we betray him, though it is the night.
He meets us here and loves us into light.[3]
[1] 1 Corinthians 1: 18-25
[2] Malcolm Guite The Word in the Wilderness – A Poem a Day for Lent and Easter Canterbury Press Norwich 2014 UK p164
[3] ibid p163
© The Rev’d WD Crossman