Maundy Thursday

Hundreds of people are huddled indoors. Prisoners in their own homes. They have been prisoners for years. Generations have been born into captivity and slave labour. Children who have never known freedom. This is a Concentration Camp thousands of years before the atrocities of World War II came to light, before Aushwitz and Birkenhau became synonymous with evil.

The prisoners have been busy – in secret. A meal has been prepared according to strict guidelines. The recipe is set out, portion control is in place, there is no resting or reclining, no meandering through the meal, no time to savour the moment. They are to eat this meal standing, ready for the off, with packed bags, ready for a journey, with sandals on their feet and staff in their hand.

There is silence.

There is danger too. And there is tension. Soon there is a silent exodus of people as families leave their homes, one by one, and slip out into the night, acknowledging one another with a nod of the head or some other silent gesture. There is hope in their eyes. But there is fear too. The moon is high in the sky, a full moon, their only light.

There is silence.

Death hangs in the air. Their unsuspecting Captors will wake in the morning to find that death has touched their households. There will be mourning and crying coming from every house, as one by one the Captors are picked off. Their first-born are dead. And they will wake, too, to find their Captives’ homes empty.

Filled with anger and panic they will make the chase.

This is the Great Escape, and it is dangerous and deadly. There can be no room for mistakes, no backing out at the last minute, no panic. Just follow the plans that have been made. And so with fluttering stomachs, quickly beating hearts, missed breaths they make their escape.

This is the Passover of the Lord.

It is this Passover of the Lord that has coloured the lives of the Jewish People ever since, defining them, making them who they are: a pivotal event in their history, an essential event to remember. The Passover Festival, celebrated year after year, is the freedom meal of the Jews: God rescues them, leads them out from slavery to a land flowing with milk and honey. This is a day of festival for ever.

And so when Jesus keeps the Passover - as he does year in year out - it is filled with emotion and meaning, filled with tenderness and tearfulness and a corporate memory of all that God has done for his people in leading them to freedom. And there is much joy.

The writer of the gospel of John changes things a bit. He places this last meal of Jesus and his death on the cross in the days before the Passover, the day on which the Passover Lamb was slaughtered. It is a fine and fanciful twisting of the story to bring out another meaning.

Jesus is the one who hands himself over, gives himself up, places himself at the heart of the Passover. He is the one who feeds and nourishes, the one who gives himself up, the one who is sacrificed. As the blood above the doors offered a sign of salvation to the Jewish people, so it is Jesus’ blood which brings freedom from death and allows us to journey to the promised land, to be free: free to love, free to be loved.

At this meal, a meal that defines who we are and what we are, Jesus gives us himself.

He rises from table, takes a towel, ties it round his waist and stoops down to wash his disciples’ feet. His disciples are disturbed. Deeply disturbed. The tables have been turned. What is he doing, squandering at their feet? They are embarrassed: embarrassed by the smell of their feet? Embarrassed above all that Jesus is waiting on them. He is their Master and Teacher, their Lord and their Leader and yet here he is messing with the mundane. Everything is being turned on its head, as their lives are, once again, turned upside down. They aren’t sure of anything any more. All they know is that they are confused. Jesus’ talk of death is too much for them to take. Even his talk of love is disturbing them. Yes, they are disturbed by Love.

And here we are, huddled together. The food is prepared, and we are ready for a journey, the journey to the cross and beyond. We are filled with many different emotions, and each of us brings so much to the table. We bring to the table different gifts and grievances, weaknesses and worries, failures and fragilities, questions and concerns. We bring them all to the table. Indeed, we bring our whole lives to the table: to be transformed, to be comforted, challenged, humbled and raised. And we bring so much joy, so much love, so much need of love, and so much need to love.

This Eucharist defines us. It has defined the church ever since Jesus said, ‘Do this in remembrance of me.’ Ever since the church began to grow and gather together they broke bread to proclaim the Lord’s death. Yes, the Eucharist, this Supper, this meal, this Mass defines who we are. It is pivotal and essential. It is our freedom food. Our food for the journey. Our food of Salvation.

Another distinctive characteristic of the church is tied up with this meal, part and parcel of everything it is, for another defining characteristic of the Church is Love. ‘Love one another as I have loved you,’ said Jesus. A commandment, a order, a mandate.

Every Eucharist is a gesture of love, an eloquent expression of how much Jesus loves us. For on this night Jesus gave himself to his disciples and so to us, on this night he gave himself into the hands of his enemies: willingly, but not without pain, all for the sake of love.

And in case we miss the point altogether we are given a further expression of love. He washes his disciples feet. His disciples are disturbed by Love.

Tonight and throughout these Holy Days and beyond, disturbed by love. Be transformed by Love. When you find someone difficult or distasteful be disturbed by love. When you find someone annoying or argumentative be disturbed by love. When you find someone frustrating or when you find the thought of washing someone’s feet an ugly act or when you find the thought of having your own feet washed, be disturbed by love. When you wonder what the church is all about or what God wants from us and from you, be disturbed by love. When faced by atrocity and disaster, when left to wonder what it’s all about, be disturbed by love. When you are scared or uncertain, be disturbed by love.

Tonight, we have an eloquent expression of love, a call to love, a call to be loved: in this Eucharist as Jesus hands himself to us in bread and wine, as he hands himself to his enemies, as he washes our feet, he disturbs the world with his love, he disturbs us with his love.

“I give you a new commandment. Love one another as I have loved you.”

Thursday after Epiphany

A story to make you smile. Two young elopers from Germany have been stopped by police from running away to Africa to tie the knot. Guards at the Hanover Railway Station were suspicious of the two young elopers who had sneaked away from their parents’ homes in the early hours of the morning and were waiting for a train to the airport. They were “very much in love” said a spokesman and wanted to go to Africa because “it is warm.” However, being aged only 5 and 6yrs of age, and accompanied by the girl’s 7 yr old sister as a witness, they didn’t get as far as they wanted. The police were called and they convinced the young children that they wouldn’t get very far without tickets. They were later reunited with their parents. The story is a rather cute one of course with a happy ending, although it could have ended disastrously and dangerously. Thank goodness they are safe. At only five or six I would imagine they have a lot to learn about love and romance and getting married. For now, they have to be put their plans on hold. They will have to wait some time before they tie the knot!

The reading from the first letter of St John, at first glance, seems to be tying us up in knots. But the letter tells a love story – the story of God who is not just loving or loveable but is love itself and who is very much in love with the people he has created. His love was revealed, says St John, when he sent his Son into the world so that we could have life through him. The reason we love one another and the reason we know what love is, is because God has loved us first. And if we say we love God the proof of that will be in how we love one another. But now we really do seem to be getting all wrapped up in knots, and love is sounding quite complicated. So much for tying the knot!

A crucifix was recently removed from the outside of a Church in Horsham, Sussex. It was removed because many people thought it was a rather scary and frightening image and, it is said, put off people going to Church. I’m not sure how the work of art worked for people. But the image, as scary as it is, is one that reveals the love of God as proclaimed in the letter of John. It may not be totally understood by people who don’t understand the Christian story. It may not connect with people who are looking for a happy ending and don’t know what the ending of the crucifixion story is. But like it or not, the work of art demonstrates the love of God as told by John in his letter. The crucifixion is not cute or tidy because love and life is not cute and tidy. But in the midst of our untidy life it’s nice to have a news story that makes us smile. Need something else to make you smile? We don’t have to wait for God to tie the knot. He’s already done that in Christ.

Readings: 1 John 4:19-5:4; Luke 4:14-22
The illustrations of the homily may be found here and here