Now we turn to the events of Maundy Thursday: an upper room is prepared,
feet are washed and bread is broken. God's faithfulness is remembered. Yet
Jesus' own words this night disrupt and deepen the meaning of redemption. All
that the psalmists hoped for is made flesh.
Take, eat, this is my body. Do this. Remember me.
The psalm we hear on
this night is draws us into the expression of the goodness of God. In psalm
116, the writer declares his love of one who is gracious, compassionate and
faithful: ‘I love the LORD, because he has heard my voice and my supplications’
is the opening tribute to God.
It’s a claim rooted
in personal experience. Cries for help
had been heard: in the face of death and at the lowest ebb; in tears and
affliction; in consternation when confronted with lies. Is this perhaps an
expression of grace? The psalmist loves God and calls upon the divine name –
the one who’d remained faithful to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob would surely remain
faithful in this generation?
Praise takes on a visible and tangible form: offering the sacrifice of thanksgiving; fulfilling vows in public; being a servant of the Lord. A life dedicated to God becomes a form of witness – in what we do as well as what we say; in the strength we find in worship as well as the freedom we find in God’s service.
But let’s go back to
the psalm and hear these words in the context of the unfolding drama: ‘O LORD, I am your servant’.
Tonight we remember how our teacher and Lord disrobed, wrapped a towel around him and washed his disciples’ feet; we remember how Peter resisted; how he was challenged about what it was to be one with Jesus; how his whole-hearted response – wash my hands, my head – led to the command to wash each other’s feet. ‘I have set you an example’ says our Lord, ‘if you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.’
Even when, perhaps especially when, there is
disagreement, mistrust, consternation and affliction, this is what we are to
do. This is who we are to be. This is at the heart of our witness. How do we
learn to improvise faithfully on this command? What does it look like – where
is the Spirit calling us to serve?Tonight we remember how our teacher and Lord disrobed, wrapped a towel around him and washed his disciples’ feet; we remember how Peter resisted; how he was challenged about what it was to be one with Jesus; how his whole-hearted response – wash my hands, my head – led to the command to wash each other’s feet. ‘I have set you an example’ says our Lord, ‘if you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.’
We do not do it in
our own strength but by being nourished by Christ himself. ‘I will lift up the
cup of salvation’ says the psalmist ‘and call upon the name of the Lord’. Every time we celebrate the Eucharist, we
remember God’s mighty acts of creation and salvation; we pray that by the power
of the Spirit the fruit of the earth and the work of human hands might become
for us Christ’s body and blood.
We remember this
night. On the night that he was betrayed, he had supper with his friends. Our
remembering is more than subjective recollection – remembering that something
happened, once upon a time. It is more than that. Our remembrance is a point of
encounter with our Lord: we receive what we are, we become what we receive, the
body of Christ. And because we remember in the light of the resurrection, we
also catch a glimpse of a new future. The horizons of God’s Kingdom are
extended; we commit ourselves to work for justice, to love mercy and to walk
humbly with our God.
Every time we break
this bread; we proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes. But on this evening,
we stand as those who are penitent in the face of our own acts of denial. We do so in the assurance that Jesus’ giving
of himself; his laying down of his life for his friends, liberates us from the
snares of death, distress and anguish.
© Julie Gittoes 2016
