Additional Sermons For Examination Services And Preparation For The Love Feast
Worship
He Took A Towel
Sermons And Services For Communion And Feetwashing
Examination Service Sermon
"Seeing A Familiar Friend All Over Again For The First Time"
I'm a native Californian and I'm living in Indiana. I've lived in many different places in the country and one thing I'm impressed by is how each place can become home. There are so many different places to live, with their own customs, foods, and speeds. And they're all good.
Recently I went to visit my folks in Silver City. That's a small town about a mile in altitude in the mountains of southwest New Mexico. The pace is slow in this very old part of the country. There's copper in the earth and deep roots in the soil. There are adobe houses and immigrant dreams. You are closer to the sky. You can scratch the clouds as they pass by.
And good food. The best. You can get sopapillas in every restaurant, fried puffed up bread, sweet, with honey. You can get molé, sweet and spicy. Even the McDonald's has a different menu, serving tortilla soup on occasion.
While I was back there some of my relatives kept asking, "When are you coming back to Silver City? Are you going to move here? Will you be here for the parade? Will you be here for the festival?"
They are certain their way of life is the only way to live. They can't understand why anyone would want to live anywhere else.
But when I go to visit I see them with new eyes, and my appreciation comes from the fact that I've seen other places worth living in as well. If I lived there all the time it wouldn't be special.
Instead, I am glad to see that their way of life is spreading. People are able to share in that way of life without living there. And they can learn to appreciate others' ways as well. We are all enriched.
When my vacation in New Mexico was done, it was also a goodness to return to Indiana, where the fried dough is called an elephant ear, where the corn is sweet and can be eaten nearly raw. I live in a place where there are no mountains, where the country roads are laid out straight, and at right angles to each other, and a mile apart. And just when I begin to take this place for granted I go out on vacation and come back and see it with new eyes again, and it's bright as a penny and worth a million dollars in gold to be here.
Communion is like vacation, in that we look at something common with new eyes. Bread and wine, common elements in our life, become fresh because God calls on us to look at them in a new way. And so are the church members, brought together to wash feet, to share the love feast, to break the bread and drink the cup, so are they also made new. God asks us to look afresh at the people who share our lives, and this covenant.
At the Lord's Supper we look at each other with new eyes. Are these the same people with whom we share the pews all the other weeks of the year? And why are we together?
God brings us together. We may have different politics, we may have different assumptions about life, or different ways of looking at things. We may come from different economic backgrounds.
But that doesn't matter. Because the church is not a club. As a matter of fact, we don't have to like each other. Still, we come together in love because God found us. God made us one people.
If I had to pick a club, it wouldn't be the church. Not everyone in this room shares the same interests as I do. Some of the things I enjoy doing most are boring to you. Some of the things you like to do aren't interesting to me.
But this is perfect for God's family. The fact that we are here together this evening to share in the Lord's Supper proves God is at work.
Jesus gives us the example. The figure of unutterable majesty, who was revealed in the Transfiguration as Lord and God, the Word made flesh who dwelt among us, the King of kings and Lord of lords -- assumes the posture of a slave.
Washing of feet was so menial a task it could not be required of a Jewish slave. What did the disciples of Jesus think when they saw him do this? They'd been with him for some years, sharing laughter as well as sorrows. Now he takes off his clothing, girds himself with a towel, and washes the feet of the disciples.
Did they see him for the first time as he really was? Was it like vacation, wrenching them from their comfortable postures, and giving them an appreciation of their Lord and master?
Did they see themselves differently as well?
We are what we are.
That's how we're made.
And we want to be like Jesus.
This is one way.
A Sermon To Prepare The Congregation For The Service Of Feetwashing And The Love Feast
"Peter Asks A Question"
Scripture: John 13:1-17
I like it whenever Peter appears in a New Testament story. He's going to do something. He's going to say something. He will not be content to remain a passive spectator.
When Jesus asks the question, "Who do people say that I am?" I can picture the other apostles hemming and hawing and looking at the ground, sort of like school children who do not want to be the one who answers the question for the teacher. Everyone is afraid it is a trick question, and no one wants to get the wrong answer.
Not Peter. "You're the Messiah!" he says. Right answer! Then, when Jesus tells his apostles he will die, Peter is the one who pipes up and says, "Stop talking like that!" The others hold back. So of course Peter gets scolded. But he always spoke his mind. His wrong answers provided us with the right answers. And it was through him that we believers have received the keys to the kingdom.
It was Peter who was the one who could deny Jesus because he never stopped to think before he spoke. And when Peter and John hurried to get a look at the empty tomb we, not they, ran. They did not walk. It was not like Peter to walk.
Later, when Peter was speaking with the resurrected Jesus, he wasn't afraid to ask what the others were thinking -- was it true that the beloved disciple would not die until the return of Jesus?
So it is not surprising that Peter is the one who acts in the scripture reading this morning. You see, this was a shocking situation. Not the dirty feet themselves. They were very common in the ancient world. You walked either barefoot or in sandals, and the roads were dirty. But you left out basins so people could wash their own feet, or you had slaves wash their feet if you were rich. It was a menial chore.
The apostles must have been shocked at that dinner, the night before the terrible morning of the trial. What was Jesus doing? He was their Lord. He should not have been washing their feet!
But no one wanted to say anything for fear of looking foolish or getting scolded.
Except Peter.
"What are you doing?" asked Peter.
Jesus answered, "What I am doing you do not know now, but afterward you will understand."
That would have been good enough for most of us. Not Peter.
"You'll never wash my feet," he said.
That mean Jesus had to answer, "If I don't wash your feet you are not one of mine."
Well, once it was explained....
"Fine." For Peter, however, there was no halfway. "Fine, if you say so, it is good enough for me. Wash my hands and my head also."
Jesus then referred to a common custom of his time. "One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you," he said. In the ancient world a person would bathe before setting off to visit a friend. When he arrived he was still clean, except for the feet. Those needed to be washed again.
Early Christians interpreted this verse to mean that baptized Christians did not need to be baptized again and again for the forgiveness of sin. Their baptism covered their sins. But what were they to do about the sins they still committed? Did Christians need to lead a totally blameless life? But who could do such a thing?
Feetwashing was a symbol of the continuing forgiveness that God offers, a reminder of our hope that even in our frailty God's strength is revealed.
Feetwashing was practiced in the early church through the first four centuries at least. There is some indication it was practiced at the time of communion, although there is also evidence it was practiced in conjunction with baptism. In recent centuries several churches have rediscovered feetwashing in their attempts to be faithful to the commands of Jesus.
There was once a little picture book drawn by a child that was reproduced in a newspaper. The book was called "Swift Things." The child had drawn a picture of a lively deer. Underneath the youngster had penciled: "A deer is fast, but God is already there."
That's how it is with our communion. There is no special magic taking place. No transformation occurs that is visible to the world.
But as the deer runs very fast towards the place where God is already waiting, so we strive a littler harder to be God's people, to become aware through our communion of God's presence which was there all along. Vernard Eller, in his book In Place Of Sacraments, writes: "... the service is designed simply to make us more aware of and open to that unmediated presence which is available any time and any place without the office of priest or element."
It is not special because we have some magic power to turn God on and off as we please. It is special because the presence of Christ is always there, and occasionally we get clearer glimpses of that presence.
No one is totally sure in what fashion the earliest church celebrated communion. But we have reason to think the full Lord's Supper is as close as any. In the First Letter of Peter we read that we are to "clothe" ourselves, all of us, with humility towards one another (1 Peter 5:5). The word for clothe used here means to wrap around, as with an apron, necessary for the washing of feet. And there is a reference in 1 Timothy 5:10 to the rite of feetwashing as well. And of course there is the clear example of Jesus and the command to do as he had done in the thirteenth chapter of John as well.
And as for the fact that we plan to share a meal, it is clear from early Christian art that this was the norm. The Bread and Cup was usually celebrated in conjunction with a full meal, which for many was their only meal of the day. The Agape Meal, or Love Feast, brought together Christians of all economic stations to one table, contrary to the customs of the day. Indeed, the office of Deacon, recorded in the Book of Acts, was instituted to see to the equitable division of this meal.
So we will first gather to wash feet. Jesus said that if one wishes to lead, that person must serve. To humble ourselves before others, to serve, and then to be served, are equally difficult tasks. By doing as Christ commanded we are becoming faithful servants -- and leaders.
This is the crucifixion part of our service, for it is here that our body is broken, our dignity disappears as we kneel before each other.
And the meal itself is part of the resurrection of Jesus. It is a pleasure, pure and simple.
Of course, part of the pleasure comes from the fact that church people are good cooks. And church people are good eaters.
Eating together in all societies and in all ages is an important social experience. Why should we not gather around the Lord's table and share a meal also? What we eat is unimportant. It is thought that in the earliest church it was always fish, because they were remembering the Feeding of the Five Thousand with the loaves and the fishes. But we may eat fish, or beef, or lamb, or vegetables. It doesn't matter.
In addition, this is our Passover meal. In the Jewish Passover the escape from the Egyptian captivity is celebrated and remembered. It is a mark of the covenant with God. This is the moment when God created a people out of nothing.
In our Passover meal we celebrate the new covenant, our release from the slavery of sin. God made us a family. As it says in the First Letter of Peter, "Once you were no people, but now you are God's people ..." (2:10).
And in the Didache, an early Christian church manual, there is a phrase from a communion service which reads: "As this broken bread, once dispersed over the hills, was brought together and became one loaf, so may your church be brought together from the ends of the earth into your kingdom."
God calls us through communion into one human family which ignores the boundaries of race and economics. Our meal together celebrates our release from the captivity of suspicion and fear, of alienation and loneliness, and our entrance into the covenant of Grace. We are a family because God found us.
So when we celebrate the meal it is good to enjoy it as well.
Then, finally, there is the Bread and Cup. It is the toast, the announcement that our Lord is coming. Maranatha! That's Aramaic for "Come, Lord!" It was the proclamation of Christians throughout the Roman Empire. It celebrates the fact that our Love Feast is not the end of it all, but part of the continuing proclamation that "Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again!" There is an even better feast to come.
Christ has died. The Feetwashing. Christ is risen. The Agape Meal, or Love Feast. Christ will come again. The Bread and Cup which we share in his memory until he returns.
Why should that which was meant to unify us as Christians instead divide us? Why should we use communion as a way of creating boundaries and defining who is in or out of the circle? Let us be faithful to Jesus, and call everyone to the table.
Begin with the call that is given to you. Let each of us make the effort to participate in communion this year, and to invite others to do so. This is a rare privilege to share in the Lord's table, to renew our covenant with the Lord, to sense the closeness of the savior, to be filled with not only food, but love. Maranatha. Oh, Lord, come quickly. Amen.
A Sermon On Feetwashing
"No Forks Or Napkins"
Scriptures: John 13:1-17; Philippians 2:5-11
Recently I had two messy experiences that were nevertheless great fun. I attended the Feast of Will at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. A meal was prepared based on foods which would have been eaten in Shakespeare's England. There was rabbit and bread and vegetables and candies that were half soap called comfits and soup served in cups.
And there was no silverware. You got greasy fingers while you ate. And there were no napkins, so you licked them to get them clean.
The same thing happened when our family attended a jousting match, staged and choreographed with the same precision as professional wrestling, I am sure, at Medieval Times. The package came with a meal including chicken as the main course. And once again there was no silverware. Eat with your fingers. Get them greasy. Get involved.
Meals, after all, are messy. And even now picnics can be messy as well. We expect them to be. Finger foods, a bare minimum of plates and utensils, and even though napkins might be brought along, you're better off wiping your hands on the grass and getting on with life.
Meals tie us together. Picnics in the summer, feasts at a jousting match, dinner before a play. And most of all, family reunions.
The early Christians made a family reunion part of their worship. It was a communion meal called the Refrigerarium. Everyone was invited to share this meal, including the dead.
No, this was not a morbid horror story. But on the anniversary of the death of a loved one the whole family might gather at the sarcophagus and share a meal in memory of the one who had died. A little food might even be stuffed into a hole in the sarcophagus, not in the belief that somehow the dead person would be able to eat it, but to make it clear that just because someone has died doesn't mean he isn't part of the community. Indeed, the communion of saints, as we call it, includes people on both sides of the grave. Church membership shouldn't end just because someone died.
As time went by churches would celebrate the Refrigerarium on the feast day of a Christian martyr or other saintly soul. This particular celebration didn't require clergy. Because of that it was dangerous. After all, you never know what might happen if you don't have clergy around. You might start living the kingdom. You might start loving each other. You might start praying for your enemies.
Needless to say, once Christianity became legal, this was one of the popular practices of the faith which was eliminated. The Refrigerarium, which was a form of communion, was only possible when worship was held in houses, or in sanctuaries in which people could face each other. Once worship was moved to the front of the church, with the worshipers reduced to spectators, it was no longer possible for believers to commune together.
The communion meal is not the only messy aspect of the Lord's Supper as it should be practiced. The feetwashing is messy as well, and difficult for some people to take part in. It means losing a part of yourself, humbling yourself. And it means walking in the path of Jesus.
In the Gospel of John, we read that Jesus laid aside his garments, took on the form of a slave, and after he had washed the feet of his disciples he resumed his place at the highest place at the table and told his disciples that they were correct to address him as Lord.
We see the same thing in Paul's letter to the Philippians, in the great Christ hymn read earlier in this service. Jesus lays aside his godhead as he laid aside his garment. He takes on the form of a slave. After humbling himself on the cross as he had earlier humbled himself washing the feet of his disciples, the scripture tells us he was exalted to the highest place. And we are told that everyone will address him as Lord!
The Lord's Supper, the full communion, is an oasis, an isolated moment in our Christian pilgrimage, when we truly come into the presence of the Lord. Like eating without utensils, it can be a messy or disconcerting experience. It would be nice to keep everything at arm's length and never get messy or greasy. But that's not the way of Christ.
And we need to take advantage of every chance we have to break bread with each other in this way.
The diary of Elijah Hunt Rhodes, published under the title All For The Union, was featured in the Ken Burns' special on the Civil War some years ago. Rhodes, a soldier in the Union Army, took part in almost every important battle in the war, and survived them all. During his sojourn in the army he recorded the many times he attended worship, sometimes even attending in occupied Confederate territory, where he was openly disdained. Rhodes never missed a chance to worship, any more than he missed a chance at a hot meal. Soldiers learn good things can happen at any time and they may never happen again. You might go months without encountering the comforts of home. Or you might die. So you take advantage of the good things that come your way.
We need to take advantage of every opportunity to come together as God's people around God's table. We need to remember that good things can happen at any moment and there's no guarantee they'll happen again.
Because whether we take part or not, there is nothing we can do to stop the juggernaut set in motion with the triumphant entry into Jerusalem. If the people are silent the very stones will cry out. If you are silent someone else will shout out. It might even embarrass you when he does, but that's how it is. We live in a world where anything can happen. God's family can come together as one people around one table. The dead could come back to life. Jesus could return. The clock could be turned back.
Resurrection is threatening to break out all over. It can be messy, or greasy, and there might not be any forks, knives, or spoons.
But there will be servants. There will be believers. There will be God's people. From both sides of the grave, gathering together at the river.
Count on it.
"Seeing A Familiar Friend All Over Again For The First Time"
I'm a native Californian and I'm living in Indiana. I've lived in many different places in the country and one thing I'm impressed by is how each place can become home. There are so many different places to live, with their own customs, foods, and speeds. And they're all good.
Recently I went to visit my folks in Silver City. That's a small town about a mile in altitude in the mountains of southwest New Mexico. The pace is slow in this very old part of the country. There's copper in the earth and deep roots in the soil. There are adobe houses and immigrant dreams. You are closer to the sky. You can scratch the clouds as they pass by.
And good food. The best. You can get sopapillas in every restaurant, fried puffed up bread, sweet, with honey. You can get molé, sweet and spicy. Even the McDonald's has a different menu, serving tortilla soup on occasion.
While I was back there some of my relatives kept asking, "When are you coming back to Silver City? Are you going to move here? Will you be here for the parade? Will you be here for the festival?"
They are certain their way of life is the only way to live. They can't understand why anyone would want to live anywhere else.
But when I go to visit I see them with new eyes, and my appreciation comes from the fact that I've seen other places worth living in as well. If I lived there all the time it wouldn't be special.
Instead, I am glad to see that their way of life is spreading. People are able to share in that way of life without living there. And they can learn to appreciate others' ways as well. We are all enriched.
When my vacation in New Mexico was done, it was also a goodness to return to Indiana, where the fried dough is called an elephant ear, where the corn is sweet and can be eaten nearly raw. I live in a place where there are no mountains, where the country roads are laid out straight, and at right angles to each other, and a mile apart. And just when I begin to take this place for granted I go out on vacation and come back and see it with new eyes again, and it's bright as a penny and worth a million dollars in gold to be here.
Communion is like vacation, in that we look at something common with new eyes. Bread and wine, common elements in our life, become fresh because God calls on us to look at them in a new way. And so are the church members, brought together to wash feet, to share the love feast, to break the bread and drink the cup, so are they also made new. God asks us to look afresh at the people who share our lives, and this covenant.
At the Lord's Supper we look at each other with new eyes. Are these the same people with whom we share the pews all the other weeks of the year? And why are we together?
God brings us together. We may have different politics, we may have different assumptions about life, or different ways of looking at things. We may come from different economic backgrounds.
But that doesn't matter. Because the church is not a club. As a matter of fact, we don't have to like each other. Still, we come together in love because God found us. God made us one people.
If I had to pick a club, it wouldn't be the church. Not everyone in this room shares the same interests as I do. Some of the things I enjoy doing most are boring to you. Some of the things you like to do aren't interesting to me.
But this is perfect for God's family. The fact that we are here together this evening to share in the Lord's Supper proves God is at work.
Jesus gives us the example. The figure of unutterable majesty, who was revealed in the Transfiguration as Lord and God, the Word made flesh who dwelt among us, the King of kings and Lord of lords -- assumes the posture of a slave.
Washing of feet was so menial a task it could not be required of a Jewish slave. What did the disciples of Jesus think when they saw him do this? They'd been with him for some years, sharing laughter as well as sorrows. Now he takes off his clothing, girds himself with a towel, and washes the feet of the disciples.
Did they see him for the first time as he really was? Was it like vacation, wrenching them from their comfortable postures, and giving them an appreciation of their Lord and master?
Did they see themselves differently as well?
We are what we are.
That's how we're made.
And we want to be like Jesus.
This is one way.
A Sermon To Prepare The Congregation For The Service Of Feetwashing And The Love Feast
"Peter Asks A Question"
Scripture: John 13:1-17
I like it whenever Peter appears in a New Testament story. He's going to do something. He's going to say something. He will not be content to remain a passive spectator.
When Jesus asks the question, "Who do people say that I am?" I can picture the other apostles hemming and hawing and looking at the ground, sort of like school children who do not want to be the one who answers the question for the teacher. Everyone is afraid it is a trick question, and no one wants to get the wrong answer.
Not Peter. "You're the Messiah!" he says. Right answer! Then, when Jesus tells his apostles he will die, Peter is the one who pipes up and says, "Stop talking like that!" The others hold back. So of course Peter gets scolded. But he always spoke his mind. His wrong answers provided us with the right answers. And it was through him that we believers have received the keys to the kingdom.
It was Peter who was the one who could deny Jesus because he never stopped to think before he spoke. And when Peter and John hurried to get a look at the empty tomb we, not they, ran. They did not walk. It was not like Peter to walk.
Later, when Peter was speaking with the resurrected Jesus, he wasn't afraid to ask what the others were thinking -- was it true that the beloved disciple would not die until the return of Jesus?
So it is not surprising that Peter is the one who acts in the scripture reading this morning. You see, this was a shocking situation. Not the dirty feet themselves. They were very common in the ancient world. You walked either barefoot or in sandals, and the roads were dirty. But you left out basins so people could wash their own feet, or you had slaves wash their feet if you were rich. It was a menial chore.
The apostles must have been shocked at that dinner, the night before the terrible morning of the trial. What was Jesus doing? He was their Lord. He should not have been washing their feet!
But no one wanted to say anything for fear of looking foolish or getting scolded.
Except Peter.
"What are you doing?" asked Peter.
Jesus answered, "What I am doing you do not know now, but afterward you will understand."
That would have been good enough for most of us. Not Peter.
"You'll never wash my feet," he said.
That mean Jesus had to answer, "If I don't wash your feet you are not one of mine."
Well, once it was explained....
"Fine." For Peter, however, there was no halfway. "Fine, if you say so, it is good enough for me. Wash my hands and my head also."
Jesus then referred to a common custom of his time. "One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you," he said. In the ancient world a person would bathe before setting off to visit a friend. When he arrived he was still clean, except for the feet. Those needed to be washed again.
Early Christians interpreted this verse to mean that baptized Christians did not need to be baptized again and again for the forgiveness of sin. Their baptism covered their sins. But what were they to do about the sins they still committed? Did Christians need to lead a totally blameless life? But who could do such a thing?
Feetwashing was a symbol of the continuing forgiveness that God offers, a reminder of our hope that even in our frailty God's strength is revealed.
Feetwashing was practiced in the early church through the first four centuries at least. There is some indication it was practiced at the time of communion, although there is also evidence it was practiced in conjunction with baptism. In recent centuries several churches have rediscovered feetwashing in their attempts to be faithful to the commands of Jesus.
There was once a little picture book drawn by a child that was reproduced in a newspaper. The book was called "Swift Things." The child had drawn a picture of a lively deer. Underneath the youngster had penciled: "A deer is fast, but God is already there."
That's how it is with our communion. There is no special magic taking place. No transformation occurs that is visible to the world.
But as the deer runs very fast towards the place where God is already waiting, so we strive a littler harder to be God's people, to become aware through our communion of God's presence which was there all along. Vernard Eller, in his book In Place Of Sacraments, writes: "... the service is designed simply to make us more aware of and open to that unmediated presence which is available any time and any place without the office of priest or element."
It is not special because we have some magic power to turn God on and off as we please. It is special because the presence of Christ is always there, and occasionally we get clearer glimpses of that presence.
No one is totally sure in what fashion the earliest church celebrated communion. But we have reason to think the full Lord's Supper is as close as any. In the First Letter of Peter we read that we are to "clothe" ourselves, all of us, with humility towards one another (1 Peter 5:5). The word for clothe used here means to wrap around, as with an apron, necessary for the washing of feet. And there is a reference in 1 Timothy 5:10 to the rite of feetwashing as well. And of course there is the clear example of Jesus and the command to do as he had done in the thirteenth chapter of John as well.
And as for the fact that we plan to share a meal, it is clear from early Christian art that this was the norm. The Bread and Cup was usually celebrated in conjunction with a full meal, which for many was their only meal of the day. The Agape Meal, or Love Feast, brought together Christians of all economic stations to one table, contrary to the customs of the day. Indeed, the office of Deacon, recorded in the Book of Acts, was instituted to see to the equitable division of this meal.
So we will first gather to wash feet. Jesus said that if one wishes to lead, that person must serve. To humble ourselves before others, to serve, and then to be served, are equally difficult tasks. By doing as Christ commanded we are becoming faithful servants -- and leaders.
This is the crucifixion part of our service, for it is here that our body is broken, our dignity disappears as we kneel before each other.
And the meal itself is part of the resurrection of Jesus. It is a pleasure, pure and simple.
Of course, part of the pleasure comes from the fact that church people are good cooks. And church people are good eaters.
Eating together in all societies and in all ages is an important social experience. Why should we not gather around the Lord's table and share a meal also? What we eat is unimportant. It is thought that in the earliest church it was always fish, because they were remembering the Feeding of the Five Thousand with the loaves and the fishes. But we may eat fish, or beef, or lamb, or vegetables. It doesn't matter.
In addition, this is our Passover meal. In the Jewish Passover the escape from the Egyptian captivity is celebrated and remembered. It is a mark of the covenant with God. This is the moment when God created a people out of nothing.
In our Passover meal we celebrate the new covenant, our release from the slavery of sin. God made us a family. As it says in the First Letter of Peter, "Once you were no people, but now you are God's people ..." (2:10).
And in the Didache, an early Christian church manual, there is a phrase from a communion service which reads: "As this broken bread, once dispersed over the hills, was brought together and became one loaf, so may your church be brought together from the ends of the earth into your kingdom."
God calls us through communion into one human family which ignores the boundaries of race and economics. Our meal together celebrates our release from the captivity of suspicion and fear, of alienation and loneliness, and our entrance into the covenant of Grace. We are a family because God found us.
So when we celebrate the meal it is good to enjoy it as well.
Then, finally, there is the Bread and Cup. It is the toast, the announcement that our Lord is coming. Maranatha! That's Aramaic for "Come, Lord!" It was the proclamation of Christians throughout the Roman Empire. It celebrates the fact that our Love Feast is not the end of it all, but part of the continuing proclamation that "Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again!" There is an even better feast to come.
Christ has died. The Feetwashing. Christ is risen. The Agape Meal, or Love Feast. Christ will come again. The Bread and Cup which we share in his memory until he returns.
Why should that which was meant to unify us as Christians instead divide us? Why should we use communion as a way of creating boundaries and defining who is in or out of the circle? Let us be faithful to Jesus, and call everyone to the table.
Begin with the call that is given to you. Let each of us make the effort to participate in communion this year, and to invite others to do so. This is a rare privilege to share in the Lord's table, to renew our covenant with the Lord, to sense the closeness of the savior, to be filled with not only food, but love. Maranatha. Oh, Lord, come quickly. Amen.
A Sermon On Feetwashing
"No Forks Or Napkins"
Scriptures: John 13:1-17; Philippians 2:5-11
Recently I had two messy experiences that were nevertheless great fun. I attended the Feast of Will at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. A meal was prepared based on foods which would have been eaten in Shakespeare's England. There was rabbit and bread and vegetables and candies that were half soap called comfits and soup served in cups.
And there was no silverware. You got greasy fingers while you ate. And there were no napkins, so you licked them to get them clean.
The same thing happened when our family attended a jousting match, staged and choreographed with the same precision as professional wrestling, I am sure, at Medieval Times. The package came with a meal including chicken as the main course. And once again there was no silverware. Eat with your fingers. Get them greasy. Get involved.
Meals, after all, are messy. And even now picnics can be messy as well. We expect them to be. Finger foods, a bare minimum of plates and utensils, and even though napkins might be brought along, you're better off wiping your hands on the grass and getting on with life.
Meals tie us together. Picnics in the summer, feasts at a jousting match, dinner before a play. And most of all, family reunions.
The early Christians made a family reunion part of their worship. It was a communion meal called the Refrigerarium. Everyone was invited to share this meal, including the dead.
No, this was not a morbid horror story. But on the anniversary of the death of a loved one the whole family might gather at the sarcophagus and share a meal in memory of the one who had died. A little food might even be stuffed into a hole in the sarcophagus, not in the belief that somehow the dead person would be able to eat it, but to make it clear that just because someone has died doesn't mean he isn't part of the community. Indeed, the communion of saints, as we call it, includes people on both sides of the grave. Church membership shouldn't end just because someone died.
As time went by churches would celebrate the Refrigerarium on the feast day of a Christian martyr or other saintly soul. This particular celebration didn't require clergy. Because of that it was dangerous. After all, you never know what might happen if you don't have clergy around. You might start living the kingdom. You might start loving each other. You might start praying for your enemies.
Needless to say, once Christianity became legal, this was one of the popular practices of the faith which was eliminated. The Refrigerarium, which was a form of communion, was only possible when worship was held in houses, or in sanctuaries in which people could face each other. Once worship was moved to the front of the church, with the worshipers reduced to spectators, it was no longer possible for believers to commune together.
The communion meal is not the only messy aspect of the Lord's Supper as it should be practiced. The feetwashing is messy as well, and difficult for some people to take part in. It means losing a part of yourself, humbling yourself. And it means walking in the path of Jesus.
In the Gospel of John, we read that Jesus laid aside his garments, took on the form of a slave, and after he had washed the feet of his disciples he resumed his place at the highest place at the table and told his disciples that they were correct to address him as Lord.
We see the same thing in Paul's letter to the Philippians, in the great Christ hymn read earlier in this service. Jesus lays aside his godhead as he laid aside his garment. He takes on the form of a slave. After humbling himself on the cross as he had earlier humbled himself washing the feet of his disciples, the scripture tells us he was exalted to the highest place. And we are told that everyone will address him as Lord!
The Lord's Supper, the full communion, is an oasis, an isolated moment in our Christian pilgrimage, when we truly come into the presence of the Lord. Like eating without utensils, it can be a messy or disconcerting experience. It would be nice to keep everything at arm's length and never get messy or greasy. But that's not the way of Christ.
And we need to take advantage of every chance we have to break bread with each other in this way.
The diary of Elijah Hunt Rhodes, published under the title All For The Union, was featured in the Ken Burns' special on the Civil War some years ago. Rhodes, a soldier in the Union Army, took part in almost every important battle in the war, and survived them all. During his sojourn in the army he recorded the many times he attended worship, sometimes even attending in occupied Confederate territory, where he was openly disdained. Rhodes never missed a chance to worship, any more than he missed a chance at a hot meal. Soldiers learn good things can happen at any time and they may never happen again. You might go months without encountering the comforts of home. Or you might die. So you take advantage of the good things that come your way.
We need to take advantage of every opportunity to come together as God's people around God's table. We need to remember that good things can happen at any moment and there's no guarantee they'll happen again.
Because whether we take part or not, there is nothing we can do to stop the juggernaut set in motion with the triumphant entry into Jerusalem. If the people are silent the very stones will cry out. If you are silent someone else will shout out. It might even embarrass you when he does, but that's how it is. We live in a world where anything can happen. God's family can come together as one people around one table. The dead could come back to life. Jesus could return. The clock could be turned back.
Resurrection is threatening to break out all over. It can be messy, or greasy, and there might not be any forks, knives, or spoons.
But there will be servants. There will be believers. There will be God's people. From both sides of the grave, gathering together at the river.
Count on it.
