Fear and hesitancy on Maundy Thursday

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

Back in early October, I went to New Orleans on a short business trip. Meetings were to start on  Monday morning, so I flew out Sunday late morning, after participating in the book study here. Keep in mind that I went straight to the airport from here, so I was wearing my clerical collar. I was a bit self-conscious, and very aware of how I might appear to others. While waiting at the gate in Louisville’s airport, I watched a woman struggle with folding up a large stroller while she tried to hold on to her toddler. Eventually, I got up and asked if she needed help, and then walked over to help her. She was slightly embarrassed, but we got her stroller packed for the flight. I reflected on this and realized that had I not been wearing my collar, I might not have gotten up to help. Why was that?

Arriving in New Orleans, my seatmate for that flight wrestled her suitcase from the overhead bin as the passengers ahead of us walked off the airplane, and then forgot to take it with her off the plane. I immediately grabbed it and delivered it to her on the jetway. She was grateful, and blessed me. I didn’t hesitate to help her instead of letting her take care of her own belongings. Later that day, I went to a contemplative Eucharist at Christ Church Cathedral New Orleans, and spoke to the Canon who led the service. I shared with him my willingness to help while wearing a collar, and my hesitancy when dressed in lay clothing. A couple of weeks later, I was in Washington D.C. for another business meeting I really don't travel that much for work), and spent part of the day sightseeing. My first stop was at the National Cathedral, where I walked into a Morning Prayer service. One of the Canons was delivering a homily where he said “Don’t be afraid to be who you are.” The memory of my experience of flying to New Orleans came back, and his words sank into me as I asked again, why do I hesitate? Why would I not help when not in clerical clothing?

Why, indeed? As I think about the significance and intimacy of Jesus washing his followers feet, and me helping others, I am confronted by fears; fear of exposure; fear of intruding where I may not be wanted; fear of failing to be helpful; fear of getting involved in a situation that could get messy. If Jesus were to wash my feet as one of his disciples, how could I continue to be a disciple if I couldn’t do the same for someone else? Where does the courage to get involved in someone else’s difficulties or needs come from? Maybe courage comes hand-in-hand with trust, trust in myself, trust in where the Holy Spirit leads me, and building trust in other people. If I am open and honest with others, courage rises and trust grows. And where there is openness, there is compassion, and with rising courage and trust, I can rely on all three to help me reach out and wash what needs to be washed, help whoever needs to be helped, love whoever needs to be loved.

Those moments of washing and helping come up suddenly, without warning, in daily life. With compassion, courage, and trust, I can act in love that is understood by everyone, an act that responds to need, or an act of loving kindness, just because I want to. I don’t need a collar, and we don’t need status to act, just because we want to. I don’t need permission to act, just because. I only need trust that I can make God’s compassion and love visible through a humble, selfless act, the same kind of act as Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. I willingly expose my feet to be washed so that I know what it is to trust someone who will wash mine in one form or another. I invite you to come up in a moment to have your feet washed, to be part of a humble act of love, done just because.