A good meal
Commentary
Object:
When traveling through a strange town many years ago, we stopped a pedestrian and asked her, "Where can we get a good meal around here?" She directed us to a local restaurant that did, indeed, serve a good meal. But while we have long ago forgotten what was on the menu, we continue to bring the tale to mind for two reasons: We really enjoyed our time together as family, and we were grateful for a stranger who pointed the way to a place where kinship care could spill out over a shared good meal.
Tonight Christians gather to celebrate that love in the most extraordinary of meals. It is not a feast in the typical sense of the word, but the symbolism of 34 centuries of meaning is poured into and through and out of this time of table fellowship. Kick off your shoes to get washed by Jesus, and come to the communion of love and grace!
Exodus 12:1-4 (5-10) 11-14
The Passover was the culmination of one of the most horrendous divine actions on earth, the great plagues of Egypt. While these miracles of divine judgment make for great Hollywood screenplay, it is not always apparent as to the reason for this extended weird display of divine power, especially when it is interspersed with notes that Pharaoh's heart was hardened, sometimes, in fact, seemingly as an act of Yahweh. Could not Yahweh have provided a less destructive and deadly exit strategy for Israel?
The plagues begin to make sense when they are viewed in the context of Egypt's climate and culture. After the initial sparring with snakes to show magical skills, the stakes are raised far beyond human ability merely to manipulate the natural order. First the waters are turned to blood; then the marshes send out a massive, unwelcome pilgrimage of frogs; next the dust is beat into gnats, soon to be followed by even peskier flies; subsequently the livestock gets sick from the dust, and this illness then spreads to human life in the form of boils and open sores; penultimately the heavens send down mortar shells of hail, transport in a foreign army of locusts, and then withhold the light of the sun; finally, in an awful culmination, the firstborn humans and animals across Egypt die suddenly.
Strange. But not quite as much when seen in three successive groupings. Among the many deities worshiped in ancient Egypt, none superseded a triumvirate composed by the Nile, the good earth, and the heavens which were the home of the sun. So it was that the initial plagues of bloody water and frogs both turned the Nile against the Egyptians and showed the dominance of Yahweh over this critical source of national life.
The ante was then upped when Yahweh took on the farmland of Egypt, one of the great breadbaskets of the world. Instead of producing crops, Moses showed, by way of plagues three through six, how Yahweh could cause it to generate all manner of irritating and deadly pestilence, making it an enemy instead of a friend. Finally, in the third stage of plagues, the heavens themselves became menacing. Rather than providing the sheltering confidence of benign sameness, one day the heavens attacked with the hailstone mortar fire of an unseen enemy. Next these same heavens served as the highway of an invading army of locusts. Then old friend sun, the crowning deity of Egyptian religion, simply vanished for three days.
Finally, the link of life was severed when all the firstborns died. The Egyptians believed that the firstborn carried the cultural significance of each family and species, so in a sudden and dramatic moment the very chain of life and being was severed. Furthermore, the Pharaohs themselves were supposedly deity incarnate, descending directly from the sun by way of firstborn inheritance. Cutting this link eviscerated the life-potency of the Egyptian civilization not only for the present but also for the future. It was a true knockout punch.
Thus the plagues served not as gory illustration material for Sunday school papers, but rather as the divine initiatives in an escalating battle between Yahweh and the Pharaoh of Egypt over claims on the people of Israel. The plagues were a necessary prologue to the Sinai Covenant because they showed the sovereignty of Yahweh as Suzerain not only over Israel but also over other contenders. Israel belongs to Yahweh because of historic promises made to Abraham, and also by way of chivalrous combat in which Yahweh won back the prize of lover and human companion from the usurper who had stolen her away from the divine heart. Furthermore, Yahweh accomplished this act without the help of Israel's own resources (no armies, no resistance movements, no terrorist tactics, no great escape plans), and in a decisive manner that announced the limitations of the Egyptian religious and cultural resources.
This is why the final plague is paired with the institution of the Passover festival (Exodus 12). It would become an on-going reminder that Israel was bought back by way of a blood-price redemption, and that the nation owed its very existence to the love and fighting jealousy of its divine champion. While Egypt lost its firstborn and its cultural heritage, Israel became Yahweh's firstborn and rightful inheritance.
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
Paul's stay in Corinth is quickly told in Acts 18:1-17. He began his missionary sojourn there, as usual, with a time of teaching about Jesus to the Jews in the local synagogue. Paul was eventually forced out by vigorous opponents who refused to acknowledge that Jesus could have been the promised messiah. Although Paul was no longer permitted to speak in the synagogue, the leader of the synagogue became a believer, as did a good number of its members. From a new location in the house adjacent to the synagogue, and also from his workspace in the Corinthian market as a tentmaker, Paul broadened his preaching dialogues with people until a thriving congregation was formed of both Jewish and Gentile converts.
Encouraged by a vision that affirmed divine blessing on his ministry there (Acts 18:9-11), Paul stayed in Corinth at least a year-and-a-half (virtually all of 50 AD and well along into 51 AD). Then he decided to make a report back at his sending church in Syrian Antioch, and took his new friends Priscilla and Aquila along (Acts 18:18). Stopping briefly in Ephesus, across the Aegean Sea, Paul felt a strong pull to engage in a similar church-planting effort there. But he was already committed to his travel plans, so he left Priscilla and Aquila in Ephesus, and vowed to return soon (Acts 18:19-21).
It was probably a couple of months later when Paul came back overland through Asia Minor and set up shop in Ephesus (Acts 19:1). Priscilla and Aquila had already established a solid core of converts and new leaders. Among their number was Apollos, a keen and well-schooled Jew from Alexandria who was able to quickly understand how Jesus could be the Jewish messiah (Acts 18:24-28).
Paul stayed on in Ephesus for more than two years (Acts 19:8-10), carrying out a number of regional mission journeys, and growing a significant Christian presence in the city itself. It was during this time that members from his former congregation in Corinth began a series of contacts that would eventually cause Paul to write two of his most passionate and profound letters of Christian instruction. We know them today as 1 and 2 Corinthians.
Probably sometime in late 51 AD or early 52 AD Paul sent a letter of strongly worded reproof to the Corinthian congregation. No copies have survived, but from what Paul himself says about it in 1 Corinthians 5:9, it is easy to see why some might take exception to it. Indeed, it appears that a number of people in the congregation began to disown Paul's authority after reading that letter and promote factionalism in the community, based upon personal preferences about which leaders each would claim as having greater sway among them. Meanwhile, a delegation of three men (Stephanus, Fortunatus, and Achaicus) who were highly respectful of Paul's apostolic authority, traveled from Corinth to Ephesus, bringing to Paul an oral report about the difficulties going on in the church. They also carried a written list of questions that members of the congregation were raising.
Paul quickly wrote a letter of response, including some powerful answers to the eight questions raised:
* about marriage, singleness, and divorce (7:1-24).
* about the conduct of virgins (7:25-40).
* about meat dedicated to idols (and apostolic authority) (8:1--11:1).
* about worship practices, especially the Lord's Supper (11:2-33).
* about spiritual gifts (12-14).
* about Jesus' resurrection and ours (15).
* about the collection for the poor in Jerusalem (16:1-11).
* about Apollos (16:12).
In Paul's response to questions about worship practices (11:2-33) is contained a reflection on two social value systems. First, with regard to differing roles for women and men in society, Paul wants to ensure that the genders are not blurred. There is a creational distinction between females and males, according to Paul, and this must not be erased, even by the freedoms found in Christ. At the same time, this gender distinction ought not to undermine the broad equality by which the gifts of the Spirit are distributed. Both women and men can and should prophesy. Spiritual leadership in the church is not limited by gender.
Second, in a review of the church's celebration of "the Lord's Supper," as it was becoming known, another facet of social interaction was addressed. The "differences" within the Corinthian congregation were not only of the kind where parties became loyal to different leaders (1 Corinthians 1-3), but also the manifestation of divergent socio-economic groupings present in contemporary society. The reason that some who attended these Lord's Supper gatherings "go ahead without waiting for anybody else" and others "remain hungry," was on account of the divergent lifestyle practices of the rich and the poor among them. The wealthy were able to come and go as they pleased, including showing up to worship services, potluck dinners, and Lord's Supper celebrations right at the start. The poor and the slaves, however (some likely coming from the same households), were often late to arrive because they had to fulfill their domestic work obligations first. Paul declared that "recognizing the body of the Lord" was necessary if the Lord's Supper was to be celebrated properly. This did not mean having the capacity to understand an appropriate theological theory of the atonement or some other such cognitive ability. Instead, it amounted to remembering that all who belong to Jesus are welcome at his table, and none have more rights than others. If they were indeed the body of Christ, they must live and act accordingly.
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
Although its literary development is markedly different from that of the synoptic gospels, there is a very clear pattern to John's rehearsal of thought and portrayal of Jesus' activities and teachings in this gospel. A significant transition in referential time takes place between chapters 12 and 13 (related to the coming of the "the hour" for Jesus; note 2:4, 4:23, 7:6, 12:23, 13:1, 17:1). This change is further accentuated by the grouping of all of Jesus' "miraculous signs," as John calls them, into the first twelve chapters. For these reasons the first part of John's gospel is often called "The Book of Signs," while the last part wears well the name "The Book of Glory." A highly significant prologue opens the gospel (1:1-18), and an epilogue, perhaps written by another party and added after the initial gospel was completed (ch. 21), brings it to a close.
Once the transition takes place to the "Book of Glory," only two major events happen. First, Jesus meets for an extended meal and conversation with his disciples. The monologue seems somewhat meandering and repetitive until the Hebrew chiastic manner of communication is overlaid. Then the "Farewell Discourse," as it is known, becomes an obviously deeply moving invitation by Jesus for his followers to remain connected to him by way of the powerful "Paraclete" (a Greek term meaning "counselor" or "advocate"), in the face of the troubling that will come upon them because of his imminent physical departure, and the rising persecutions targeted toward them by the world that remains in darkness. In chiastic summary, the Farewell Discourse can be portrayed in this manner:
Gathering scene (unity with Jesus expressed in mutual love)
13:1-35
Prediction of disciple's denial
13:36-38
Jesus' departure tempered by Father's power
14:1-14
Promise of the "Paraclete"
14:15-24
Troubling encounter with the world
14:25-31
"Abide in Me!" teaching
15:1-17
Troubling encounter with the world
15:18--16:4a
Promise of the "Paraclete"
16:4b-15
Jesus' departure tempered by Father's power
16:16-28
Prediction of disciple's denial
16:29-33
Departing prayer (unity with Jesus expressed in mutual love)
17:1-26
With this development in mind, it is clear that the gathering scene in our lectionary passage for today is paralleled with the great prayer in chapter 17. Each expresses the bond between Jesus and the disciples, and through this connection, their oneness with God. Hence the need for the washings of chapter 13. John seems to indicate this as symbolic of pre-Christian baptism, although that is a debated point. There is no question, however, on the need for those who participate in Jesus' work on their behalf, to be identified in a public manner even if it causes embarrassment (like that of Peter in v. 6), Jesus must somehow mark his disciples through an act of abject service. This, of course, leads directly into his death as the sacrificial lamb of Passover.
One of the most fascinating questions regarding this passage is whether the meal Jesus shares with his disciples is the Passover. Following Mark's lead, the synoptic gospels clearly identify the final meal that Jesus shared with his disciples as a Passover celebration. Strangely, for all the other symbolism in the fourth gospel, John clearly steers away from that connection in chapter 13. Why?
The answer appears to have several parts to it. First, John deliberately times the events of Jesus' final week so that Jesus is tried and sentenced to death on Friday morning (at the same time as the unblemished Passover lambs were being selected), and crucified during the precise hours when the Passover lambs were being slaughtered in the temple courtyard. In this way John accomplishes a purpose that he indicated at the beginning of his gospel, to portray Jesus as the "Lamb of God" (1:36). Thus it was important for John not to identify the Last Supper as the Passover, since Jesus must die with the lambs who were being slaughtered prior to that meal.
Second, this does not immediately mean that either John or the synoptics are telling the story wrongly. Instead, there were actually several different calendars functioning among the Jews of the day, marking the celebration of the Passover with slight variations. These came into being due either to the chronological ordering of each new day (Roman: sunrise to sunrise, or Jewish: sundown to sundown), or the perceived occasion of the new moon that began the month (adjusted differently by Babylonian and Palestinian rabbis).
Thus Jesus and his disciples probably ate a Passover meal together, as the synoptics identify it, but one which was tied to a different calendar than that used by the bulk of the Jerusalem population. In this way John could leverage the different schedule to communicate a particular emphasis in his portrayal of Jesus' symbolic identity. Because he wanted to emphasize the central thesis that Jesus is the ultimate Passover lamb who takes away the sins of the world, he needed to remind his readers that Jesus was selected for crucifixion just as the Passover lambs were being selected in the temple precincts, and that he was executed at precisely the same moment as the Passover lambs were killed. If John mentioned that the meal Jesus and his disciples ate on Thursday night was the Passover, the rest of this symbolism would be lost.
Application
The act of Jesus washing the disciples' feet is one of the most remarkable displays of love in human history. It has been much imitated by churches in their Maundy Thursday services, but sometimes the power of the love that drove it in its original context is missing. Love is the key to interpreting this passage tonight.
In 1967, a psychologist named Kinch reported a rather bizarre experiment conducted by university psychology graduate students that displayed in a strange and wonderful way the true power of love. These males were part of what they considered to be the "in" crowd on campus. They moved in the right circles, dressed the right way, and went to the right places for nightlife parties.
But they all knew a particular young woman who wasn't in that circle. She was an "outsider," a "nobody," a person who didn't count, at least to them and their kind.
Knowing the effects of behavior modification, they planned together to see how she would change if they treated her, for a time, as if she were part of their "in" crowd. They made an agreement that whenever they saw her they would compliment her and show an interest in her. Furthermore, they would take turns asking her out on dates.
The experiment took a strange turn. Under other circumstances they did not like her. They would not have talked to her prior to this, but only about her, and in condescending and cynical ways. Yet as the challenge progressed each of the men gradually found the young woman more likable, less foreign, less alien. The first fellow's date with her went okay, even though he had to keep telling himself she was more beautiful and better company than he truly felt.
But by the time the third fellow asked her out, she had actually become part of their circle of friends. They thought it was kind of fun being with her. She wasn't so bad after all!
And the fifth fellow never did get to date her, because the fourth fellow in line asked her to be his wife! What started as a rather cruel experiment ended up as an amazing testimony to the truth of scripture's words about the power of love. As John would remember the words of Jesus in the Farewell Discourse, "Greater love has no one that this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." Let the friends of Jesus, washed by the waters of his baptism, celebrate tonight.
Alternative Application
John 13:1-17, 31b-35. The power of love is seen in remarkable ways throughout the Farewell Discourse in John's gospel. This is a passage and a scene to linger over. When we read it quickly or talk too much about it without experiencing it, we can miss the tender compassions that are emitted like a transforming radiation from the heart of Jesus.
Sometimes there are children who can show this love of God in remarkable ways, as Dale Galloway related in his book Dream a New Dream. A friend's son was very shy, he said. Chad was usually by himself, and others took no effort to include him in their circles of friends. Every afternoon Chad's mother would see the children pile off the school bus in groups, laughing, playing, and joking around with each other. Chad, however, would always be the last down the steps, always alone. No one ever paid much attention to him.
One day in late January Chad came home and said, "You know what, Mom? Valentine's Day is coming and I want to make a valentine for everyone in my class!"
Chad's mother told Dale how terrible she felt. "Oh no!" she thought. "Chad is setting himself up for a fall now. He's going to make valentines for everyone else, but nobody will think of him. He'll come home all disappointed, and just pull back further into his shell."
But Chad insisted, so they got paper and crayons and glue. Chad made 31 valentine cards. It took him three weeks.
The day he took them to school his mother cried a lot. When he came off the bus alone as usual, bearing no valentine cards from others in his hands, she was ready for the worst.
Amazingly Chad's face was glowing. He marched through the door triumphant. "I didn't forget anybody!" he said. "I gave them all one of my hearts!"
That day Chad gained something more than just friends. He gained a sense of himself. He won a sense of dignity and worth. "I gave them all one of my hearts!" he said.
That's where John wants to bring us in the room of the Last Supper as Jesus shares a time of intimacy with his disciples. Circles of hatred erased by circles of love. Circles of judgment blurred by widening circles of mercy. Circles of death that give way to circles of life. The Bible says that when we had drawn God out of our circles, divine love drew us in. Perhaps Edwin Markham's poem could be translated into the conversation of heaven as the Father and the Son reflect about me:
He drew a circle that shut us out --
Heretic! Rebel! A thing to flout!
But our love alone had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in!
It's all about love. And, says John, love begins with Jesus.
Preaching the Psalm
Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19
by Schuyler Rhodes
"Oh Lord, I am your servant...."
Most of the people reading these words are people who have never had to be servants. Indeed, most of the folks who scan these pages pride themselves on their independence and their freedom. Being a servant, though sometimes given religious lip service, is far from the minds of most people within our church communities. These folks may eagerly offer to help someone in need. They might be generous when it comes to the offering plate. They might even give their time in teaching or church leadership. But to imagine themselves as servants? It's simply not in our cultural vocabulary.
The whole thing is curious, and it causes one to wonder. What is it that a servant does, anyway? Simply put, a servant does whatever the master wishes. In a human context, this could include but not be limited to cleaning, cooking, and other such menial tasks. A servant does the laundry and the gardening. A servant might serve as chauffeur or even go to get the groceries. A servant does whatever the master wants.
Is it the same for those who are servants of the Lord? Yes. Whether human or divine, the servant does whatever the Master wishes. In the case of the Lord, the trick would be discerning what it is that the Lord wants the servant to do.
Having perused the scripture a few times, a couple of things come to mind. It seems clear that the Lord wants justice. A servant of the Lord, then, would do all in his or her power to bring justice where injustice reigns. The Lord wants equity and prosperity for the people. A servant of the Lord, then, would get busy working for a community where equity among the people was the order of the day, and abundance was in evidence everywhere.
Now that we have an understanding of what a servant of the Lord might do, all that's left is for us to embrace our role as God's servants. All that's left is to abandon our own false sense of independence and our prideful individualism. All that's left, really, is to bow our heads in humble submission and offer our hearts and our lives to the service of God.
Tonight Christians gather to celebrate that love in the most extraordinary of meals. It is not a feast in the typical sense of the word, but the symbolism of 34 centuries of meaning is poured into and through and out of this time of table fellowship. Kick off your shoes to get washed by Jesus, and come to the communion of love and grace!
Exodus 12:1-4 (5-10) 11-14
The Passover was the culmination of one of the most horrendous divine actions on earth, the great plagues of Egypt. While these miracles of divine judgment make for great Hollywood screenplay, it is not always apparent as to the reason for this extended weird display of divine power, especially when it is interspersed with notes that Pharaoh's heart was hardened, sometimes, in fact, seemingly as an act of Yahweh. Could not Yahweh have provided a less destructive and deadly exit strategy for Israel?
The plagues begin to make sense when they are viewed in the context of Egypt's climate and culture. After the initial sparring with snakes to show magical skills, the stakes are raised far beyond human ability merely to manipulate the natural order. First the waters are turned to blood; then the marshes send out a massive, unwelcome pilgrimage of frogs; next the dust is beat into gnats, soon to be followed by even peskier flies; subsequently the livestock gets sick from the dust, and this illness then spreads to human life in the form of boils and open sores; penultimately the heavens send down mortar shells of hail, transport in a foreign army of locusts, and then withhold the light of the sun; finally, in an awful culmination, the firstborn humans and animals across Egypt die suddenly.
Strange. But not quite as much when seen in three successive groupings. Among the many deities worshiped in ancient Egypt, none superseded a triumvirate composed by the Nile, the good earth, and the heavens which were the home of the sun. So it was that the initial plagues of bloody water and frogs both turned the Nile against the Egyptians and showed the dominance of Yahweh over this critical source of national life.
The ante was then upped when Yahweh took on the farmland of Egypt, one of the great breadbaskets of the world. Instead of producing crops, Moses showed, by way of plagues three through six, how Yahweh could cause it to generate all manner of irritating and deadly pestilence, making it an enemy instead of a friend. Finally, in the third stage of plagues, the heavens themselves became menacing. Rather than providing the sheltering confidence of benign sameness, one day the heavens attacked with the hailstone mortar fire of an unseen enemy. Next these same heavens served as the highway of an invading army of locusts. Then old friend sun, the crowning deity of Egyptian religion, simply vanished for three days.
Finally, the link of life was severed when all the firstborns died. The Egyptians believed that the firstborn carried the cultural significance of each family and species, so in a sudden and dramatic moment the very chain of life and being was severed. Furthermore, the Pharaohs themselves were supposedly deity incarnate, descending directly from the sun by way of firstborn inheritance. Cutting this link eviscerated the life-potency of the Egyptian civilization not only for the present but also for the future. It was a true knockout punch.
Thus the plagues served not as gory illustration material for Sunday school papers, but rather as the divine initiatives in an escalating battle between Yahweh and the Pharaoh of Egypt over claims on the people of Israel. The plagues were a necessary prologue to the Sinai Covenant because they showed the sovereignty of Yahweh as Suzerain not only over Israel but also over other contenders. Israel belongs to Yahweh because of historic promises made to Abraham, and also by way of chivalrous combat in which Yahweh won back the prize of lover and human companion from the usurper who had stolen her away from the divine heart. Furthermore, Yahweh accomplished this act without the help of Israel's own resources (no armies, no resistance movements, no terrorist tactics, no great escape plans), and in a decisive manner that announced the limitations of the Egyptian religious and cultural resources.
This is why the final plague is paired with the institution of the Passover festival (Exodus 12). It would become an on-going reminder that Israel was bought back by way of a blood-price redemption, and that the nation owed its very existence to the love and fighting jealousy of its divine champion. While Egypt lost its firstborn and its cultural heritage, Israel became Yahweh's firstborn and rightful inheritance.
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
Paul's stay in Corinth is quickly told in Acts 18:1-17. He began his missionary sojourn there, as usual, with a time of teaching about Jesus to the Jews in the local synagogue. Paul was eventually forced out by vigorous opponents who refused to acknowledge that Jesus could have been the promised messiah. Although Paul was no longer permitted to speak in the synagogue, the leader of the synagogue became a believer, as did a good number of its members. From a new location in the house adjacent to the synagogue, and also from his workspace in the Corinthian market as a tentmaker, Paul broadened his preaching dialogues with people until a thriving congregation was formed of both Jewish and Gentile converts.
Encouraged by a vision that affirmed divine blessing on his ministry there (Acts 18:9-11), Paul stayed in Corinth at least a year-and-a-half (virtually all of 50 AD and well along into 51 AD). Then he decided to make a report back at his sending church in Syrian Antioch, and took his new friends Priscilla and Aquila along (Acts 18:18). Stopping briefly in Ephesus, across the Aegean Sea, Paul felt a strong pull to engage in a similar church-planting effort there. But he was already committed to his travel plans, so he left Priscilla and Aquila in Ephesus, and vowed to return soon (Acts 18:19-21).
It was probably a couple of months later when Paul came back overland through Asia Minor and set up shop in Ephesus (Acts 19:1). Priscilla and Aquila had already established a solid core of converts and new leaders. Among their number was Apollos, a keen and well-schooled Jew from Alexandria who was able to quickly understand how Jesus could be the Jewish messiah (Acts 18:24-28).
Paul stayed on in Ephesus for more than two years (Acts 19:8-10), carrying out a number of regional mission journeys, and growing a significant Christian presence in the city itself. It was during this time that members from his former congregation in Corinth began a series of contacts that would eventually cause Paul to write two of his most passionate and profound letters of Christian instruction. We know them today as 1 and 2 Corinthians.
Probably sometime in late 51 AD or early 52 AD Paul sent a letter of strongly worded reproof to the Corinthian congregation. No copies have survived, but from what Paul himself says about it in 1 Corinthians 5:9, it is easy to see why some might take exception to it. Indeed, it appears that a number of people in the congregation began to disown Paul's authority after reading that letter and promote factionalism in the community, based upon personal preferences about which leaders each would claim as having greater sway among them. Meanwhile, a delegation of three men (Stephanus, Fortunatus, and Achaicus) who were highly respectful of Paul's apostolic authority, traveled from Corinth to Ephesus, bringing to Paul an oral report about the difficulties going on in the church. They also carried a written list of questions that members of the congregation were raising.
Paul quickly wrote a letter of response, including some powerful answers to the eight questions raised:
* about marriage, singleness, and divorce (7:1-24).
* about the conduct of virgins (7:25-40).
* about meat dedicated to idols (and apostolic authority) (8:1--11:1).
* about worship practices, especially the Lord's Supper (11:2-33).
* about spiritual gifts (12-14).
* about Jesus' resurrection and ours (15).
* about the collection for the poor in Jerusalem (16:1-11).
* about Apollos (16:12).
In Paul's response to questions about worship practices (11:2-33) is contained a reflection on two social value systems. First, with regard to differing roles for women and men in society, Paul wants to ensure that the genders are not blurred. There is a creational distinction between females and males, according to Paul, and this must not be erased, even by the freedoms found in Christ. At the same time, this gender distinction ought not to undermine the broad equality by which the gifts of the Spirit are distributed. Both women and men can and should prophesy. Spiritual leadership in the church is not limited by gender.
Second, in a review of the church's celebration of "the Lord's Supper," as it was becoming known, another facet of social interaction was addressed. The "differences" within the Corinthian congregation were not only of the kind where parties became loyal to different leaders (1 Corinthians 1-3), but also the manifestation of divergent socio-economic groupings present in contemporary society. The reason that some who attended these Lord's Supper gatherings "go ahead without waiting for anybody else" and others "remain hungry," was on account of the divergent lifestyle practices of the rich and the poor among them. The wealthy were able to come and go as they pleased, including showing up to worship services, potluck dinners, and Lord's Supper celebrations right at the start. The poor and the slaves, however (some likely coming from the same households), were often late to arrive because they had to fulfill their domestic work obligations first. Paul declared that "recognizing the body of the Lord" was necessary if the Lord's Supper was to be celebrated properly. This did not mean having the capacity to understand an appropriate theological theory of the atonement or some other such cognitive ability. Instead, it amounted to remembering that all who belong to Jesus are welcome at his table, and none have more rights than others. If they were indeed the body of Christ, they must live and act accordingly.
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
Although its literary development is markedly different from that of the synoptic gospels, there is a very clear pattern to John's rehearsal of thought and portrayal of Jesus' activities and teachings in this gospel. A significant transition in referential time takes place between chapters 12 and 13 (related to the coming of the "the hour" for Jesus; note 2:4, 4:23, 7:6, 12:23, 13:1, 17:1). This change is further accentuated by the grouping of all of Jesus' "miraculous signs," as John calls them, into the first twelve chapters. For these reasons the first part of John's gospel is often called "The Book of Signs," while the last part wears well the name "The Book of Glory." A highly significant prologue opens the gospel (1:1-18), and an epilogue, perhaps written by another party and added after the initial gospel was completed (ch. 21), brings it to a close.
Once the transition takes place to the "Book of Glory," only two major events happen. First, Jesus meets for an extended meal and conversation with his disciples. The monologue seems somewhat meandering and repetitive until the Hebrew chiastic manner of communication is overlaid. Then the "Farewell Discourse," as it is known, becomes an obviously deeply moving invitation by Jesus for his followers to remain connected to him by way of the powerful "Paraclete" (a Greek term meaning "counselor" or "advocate"), in the face of the troubling that will come upon them because of his imminent physical departure, and the rising persecutions targeted toward them by the world that remains in darkness. In chiastic summary, the Farewell Discourse can be portrayed in this manner:
Gathering scene (unity with Jesus expressed in mutual love)
13:1-35
Prediction of disciple's denial
13:36-38
Jesus' departure tempered by Father's power
14:1-14
Promise of the "Paraclete"
14:15-24
Troubling encounter with the world
14:25-31
"Abide in Me!" teaching
15:1-17
Troubling encounter with the world
15:18--16:4a
Promise of the "Paraclete"
16:4b-15
Jesus' departure tempered by Father's power
16:16-28
Prediction of disciple's denial
16:29-33
Departing prayer (unity with Jesus expressed in mutual love)
17:1-26
With this development in mind, it is clear that the gathering scene in our lectionary passage for today is paralleled with the great prayer in chapter 17. Each expresses the bond between Jesus and the disciples, and through this connection, their oneness with God. Hence the need for the washings of chapter 13. John seems to indicate this as symbolic of pre-Christian baptism, although that is a debated point. There is no question, however, on the need for those who participate in Jesus' work on their behalf, to be identified in a public manner even if it causes embarrassment (like that of Peter in v. 6), Jesus must somehow mark his disciples through an act of abject service. This, of course, leads directly into his death as the sacrificial lamb of Passover.
One of the most fascinating questions regarding this passage is whether the meal Jesus shares with his disciples is the Passover. Following Mark's lead, the synoptic gospels clearly identify the final meal that Jesus shared with his disciples as a Passover celebration. Strangely, for all the other symbolism in the fourth gospel, John clearly steers away from that connection in chapter 13. Why?
The answer appears to have several parts to it. First, John deliberately times the events of Jesus' final week so that Jesus is tried and sentenced to death on Friday morning (at the same time as the unblemished Passover lambs were being selected), and crucified during the precise hours when the Passover lambs were being slaughtered in the temple courtyard. In this way John accomplishes a purpose that he indicated at the beginning of his gospel, to portray Jesus as the "Lamb of God" (1:36). Thus it was important for John not to identify the Last Supper as the Passover, since Jesus must die with the lambs who were being slaughtered prior to that meal.
Second, this does not immediately mean that either John or the synoptics are telling the story wrongly. Instead, there were actually several different calendars functioning among the Jews of the day, marking the celebration of the Passover with slight variations. These came into being due either to the chronological ordering of each new day (Roman: sunrise to sunrise, or Jewish: sundown to sundown), or the perceived occasion of the new moon that began the month (adjusted differently by Babylonian and Palestinian rabbis).
Thus Jesus and his disciples probably ate a Passover meal together, as the synoptics identify it, but one which was tied to a different calendar than that used by the bulk of the Jerusalem population. In this way John could leverage the different schedule to communicate a particular emphasis in his portrayal of Jesus' symbolic identity. Because he wanted to emphasize the central thesis that Jesus is the ultimate Passover lamb who takes away the sins of the world, he needed to remind his readers that Jesus was selected for crucifixion just as the Passover lambs were being selected in the temple precincts, and that he was executed at precisely the same moment as the Passover lambs were killed. If John mentioned that the meal Jesus and his disciples ate on Thursday night was the Passover, the rest of this symbolism would be lost.
Application
The act of Jesus washing the disciples' feet is one of the most remarkable displays of love in human history. It has been much imitated by churches in their Maundy Thursday services, but sometimes the power of the love that drove it in its original context is missing. Love is the key to interpreting this passage tonight.
In 1967, a psychologist named Kinch reported a rather bizarre experiment conducted by university psychology graduate students that displayed in a strange and wonderful way the true power of love. These males were part of what they considered to be the "in" crowd on campus. They moved in the right circles, dressed the right way, and went to the right places for nightlife parties.
But they all knew a particular young woman who wasn't in that circle. She was an "outsider," a "nobody," a person who didn't count, at least to them and their kind.
Knowing the effects of behavior modification, they planned together to see how she would change if they treated her, for a time, as if she were part of their "in" crowd. They made an agreement that whenever they saw her they would compliment her and show an interest in her. Furthermore, they would take turns asking her out on dates.
The experiment took a strange turn. Under other circumstances they did not like her. They would not have talked to her prior to this, but only about her, and in condescending and cynical ways. Yet as the challenge progressed each of the men gradually found the young woman more likable, less foreign, less alien. The first fellow's date with her went okay, even though he had to keep telling himself she was more beautiful and better company than he truly felt.
But by the time the third fellow asked her out, she had actually become part of their circle of friends. They thought it was kind of fun being with her. She wasn't so bad after all!
And the fifth fellow never did get to date her, because the fourth fellow in line asked her to be his wife! What started as a rather cruel experiment ended up as an amazing testimony to the truth of scripture's words about the power of love. As John would remember the words of Jesus in the Farewell Discourse, "Greater love has no one that this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." Let the friends of Jesus, washed by the waters of his baptism, celebrate tonight.
Alternative Application
John 13:1-17, 31b-35. The power of love is seen in remarkable ways throughout the Farewell Discourse in John's gospel. This is a passage and a scene to linger over. When we read it quickly or talk too much about it without experiencing it, we can miss the tender compassions that are emitted like a transforming radiation from the heart of Jesus.
Sometimes there are children who can show this love of God in remarkable ways, as Dale Galloway related in his book Dream a New Dream. A friend's son was very shy, he said. Chad was usually by himself, and others took no effort to include him in their circles of friends. Every afternoon Chad's mother would see the children pile off the school bus in groups, laughing, playing, and joking around with each other. Chad, however, would always be the last down the steps, always alone. No one ever paid much attention to him.
One day in late January Chad came home and said, "You know what, Mom? Valentine's Day is coming and I want to make a valentine for everyone in my class!"
Chad's mother told Dale how terrible she felt. "Oh no!" she thought. "Chad is setting himself up for a fall now. He's going to make valentines for everyone else, but nobody will think of him. He'll come home all disappointed, and just pull back further into his shell."
But Chad insisted, so they got paper and crayons and glue. Chad made 31 valentine cards. It took him three weeks.
The day he took them to school his mother cried a lot. When he came off the bus alone as usual, bearing no valentine cards from others in his hands, she was ready for the worst.
Amazingly Chad's face was glowing. He marched through the door triumphant. "I didn't forget anybody!" he said. "I gave them all one of my hearts!"
That day Chad gained something more than just friends. He gained a sense of himself. He won a sense of dignity and worth. "I gave them all one of my hearts!" he said.
That's where John wants to bring us in the room of the Last Supper as Jesus shares a time of intimacy with his disciples. Circles of hatred erased by circles of love. Circles of judgment blurred by widening circles of mercy. Circles of death that give way to circles of life. The Bible says that when we had drawn God out of our circles, divine love drew us in. Perhaps Edwin Markham's poem could be translated into the conversation of heaven as the Father and the Son reflect about me:
He drew a circle that shut us out --
Heretic! Rebel! A thing to flout!
But our love alone had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in!
It's all about love. And, says John, love begins with Jesus.
Preaching the Psalm
Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19
by Schuyler Rhodes
"Oh Lord, I am your servant...."
Most of the people reading these words are people who have never had to be servants. Indeed, most of the folks who scan these pages pride themselves on their independence and their freedom. Being a servant, though sometimes given religious lip service, is far from the minds of most people within our church communities. These folks may eagerly offer to help someone in need. They might be generous when it comes to the offering plate. They might even give their time in teaching or church leadership. But to imagine themselves as servants? It's simply not in our cultural vocabulary.
The whole thing is curious, and it causes one to wonder. What is it that a servant does, anyway? Simply put, a servant does whatever the master wishes. In a human context, this could include but not be limited to cleaning, cooking, and other such menial tasks. A servant does the laundry and the gardening. A servant might serve as chauffeur or even go to get the groceries. A servant does whatever the master wants.
Is it the same for those who are servants of the Lord? Yes. Whether human or divine, the servant does whatever the Master wishes. In the case of the Lord, the trick would be discerning what it is that the Lord wants the servant to do.
Having perused the scripture a few times, a couple of things come to mind. It seems clear that the Lord wants justice. A servant of the Lord, then, would do all in his or her power to bring justice where injustice reigns. The Lord wants equity and prosperity for the people. A servant of the Lord, then, would get busy working for a community where equity among the people was the order of the day, and abundance was in evidence everywhere.
Now that we have an understanding of what a servant of the Lord might do, all that's left is for us to embrace our role as God's servants. All that's left is to abandon our own false sense of independence and our prideful individualism. All that's left, really, is to bow our heads in humble submission and offer our hearts and our lives to the service of God.
