Maundy Thursday 2024: Be not afraid

Homily for Maundy Thursday, delivered at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Louisville, KY

Tonight we find ourselves at the end of Lent. It has not been a time to focus on the rules, but on the discipline needed to follow in Jesus’ footsteps, which is harder than following rules. It has not not been a time to endlessly mull over and confess how we fall short, or the mistakes we’ve made, or the failures we have had. All of that is easier to do than changing ourselves and our lives to be more like Jesus. For me, Lent has been instead six weeks of examining where I am in my journey toward becoming Christ-like in what I say or do. My ordination vows speak to changes that I strive for, changes in me to do what we believe Jesus would be doing today. And in fact, you don’t need a collar to fulfill the vow to “serve all people, particularly the poor, the weak, the sick, and the lonely.” You don’t need a title like “The Reverend” to fulfill the vow “to make Christ and his redemptive love known, by your word and example, to those among whom you live, and work, and worship.” The work spelled out in my vows, the work that I encourage you to do is intimate, intimate in the sense that I look into the faces of those I serve and search for Jesus and the Holy Spirit in them. I go to where they are in their lives, and I speak to them in their language.

That intimacy had its start in what we recall tonight when Jesus, the teacher and leader of the disciples, washed their feet in simple humility. His intimate act drove home the love and grace that he extended to his disciples, who by any other criteria did not fully measure up to his teachings or what they implied. It was a role reversal that demonstrated that power comes not from dominance, but from humbly satisfying the needs of anyone, whoever they are. This role reversal is shocking and confusing because it doesn’t follow the rules of social interaction or social status, and it puts everyone on the same level. Jesus’ intimacy exposes the shame and guilt we have about our imperfections and responds with quiet, unconditional acceptance through love. It exposes the temptation to make people do your will and instead calls us to humility as servant leaders. It is hard to expose ourselves to this intimacy because we fear judgment of our mistakes and faults, and yet as Jesus washed the dirt from his disciples’ feet, our shame and guilt are washed away here, tonight. It takes a lot of trust to expose ourselves, much less our feet to the people we know, which makes foot washing, or even serving the needs of others a challenging two-way relationship built on trust and compassionate acceptance.

That two way relationship is what we aim for with God, where we trust that God will not judge and punish us, and that we accept that we are unconditionally loved by God as we are. Once we come to terms with that relationship, once we understand that our righteousness doesn’t depend on following rules, once we learn that we do not have to earn God’s love, we can build relationships with others. We can wash away the guilt and shame of their imperfections, their faults, so that they are not afraid of the intimacy of us serving their needs. That leads us to build a community of people who were ashamed, people who didn’t feel that they were acceptable, a community of people who now love and care for one another without worrying about the social rules that say we can’t or shouldn’t. And all of this is done in humility and compassion. The first thing we do when we help others is to wash them with words of reassurance and then dry them with dignity. We wash them so that they are not ashamed or feel blamed for their needs. By washing them, they become holy so that when we serve them, we serve Jesus, too. Come up, come up to have your feet washed, so that you understand what it means to the people who you serve, what it means to experience being accepted as you are, to understand what it feels like to be humbly, unconditionally loved.