Setting The Example
Sermon
Living Vertically
Gospel Sermons For Lent/Easter Cycle C
Many, many years ago -- so long ago that we still showed 16 mm films in church -- we used a series on the life of Jesus during Lent. The final of several films was on the Transfiguration. The part of the movie that was most meaningful to me was the beginning. In order to help the audience get into the disciples' frame of mind for what was about to happen, the movie recalled five key episodes from Jesus' Galilean ministry through rapid flashbacks: the Call of the Four Fishermen, the Call of Matthew, the Sermon on the Mount, the Centurion's Faith in requesting the healing of his servant, and the Raising of the Widow of Nain's dead son.
With all these incredible and exciting things going on, Jesus stopped on the mountainside and asked the disciples, "Who do men say that I am?" They responded with the answer we all know so well: "Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah or Jeremiah or one of the prophets." Then came the really crucial question: "But who do you say that I am?" It was one thing to be caught up in the sweep of events or the air of excitement, but quite another to make the personal profession of faith Jesus was now seeking.
We gather on Maundy Thursday caught up by another set of familiar circumstances: the setting of Holy Week. The Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday; the cleansing of the Temple; the confrontations with the religious authorities; the decision by Judas to betray his master; the Upper Room experience; the death on the cross. We have heard and read and sung interpretations of these events all our lives. No other period of the Christian Year (including Christmas) receives this kind of intense theological attention. But tonight the question for us is, what does this all mean? What does this death of Christ on the cross mean for me as a person? Not just in a dogmatic way, reciting the right answer to a catachetical question; not just in a historical way, getting all the facts straight. But in a personal sense, what does this death mean to me?
We have all, unfortunately, seen far too much of killings: ethnic cleansing and genocide, executions and assassinations, terrorist bombings and military actions. We find ourselves asking what these deaths mean. What significance should we attach to the death of a great public figure cut down by the bullet of a maniacal assassin or an international plot? And what of the deaths of so many nameless ones, whose passing goes as unnoticed by the world at large as did Jesus' death? In our day when it is so hard to see world events beyond the CNN crisis of the moment, what do these things mean?
A man's death may come suddenly, accidentally, and the meaning of it may be no more than this: that life is a fragile thing. A terrible natural disaster may have no more meaning than that given by the preacher of Ecclesiastes: "Time and chance happen to all...." A person may be executed and the meaning of his death may simply be that superior force carried him away against his will. But Jesus' death was not like that. In a variety of ways, we hear Jesus saying, "I see this coming, and I accept it for your sake" (see John 10:18).
On the night before the crucifixion Jesus tried to help his followers understand the meaning of what was happening. But he did not on this occasion use the method of the preacher, giving a sermonic lecture on the subject or speaking in parables. Instead he performed prophetic actions, like the prophets of old engaging in symbolic actions that in their own way gave notice of the true meaning of events and insight into what was about to happen. You recall Ahijah cutting the new cloak into twelve pieces, Jeremiah smashing the potter's vessel, or Hosea taking the unfaithful Gomer back to his house. Now Jesus performs some prophetic actions. What do these tell us about the meaning of his death?
The first thing he did was give a dinner and invite his closest friends. This may seem like a needless thing to say, but I think no matter how well we know this fact, it is hard for us really to get into the spirit of this evening, for most of our communion services bear no resemblance whatsoever to the Last Supper, and I would include in this most of the ritualized "Christian Seders" that have become popular in church.
For over a decade, Neu Chapel and the Hillel group at the University of Evansville have celebrated a demonstration Seder for non-Jewish students. One of the biggest problems is that many Christians come to the Seder with a certain mindset. They are appropriately reverent, saying all the prayers and going through the ritual with great solemnity. They need to be told, "You're much too stiff and formal. When we Jews celebrate the Passover, we say a prayer, then talk or laugh a bit, then we have a glass of wine, and after some more conversation we say another prayer. It's a big family thing." So if we wish to understand what this evening is all about, we must remember that these were friends gathered together to celebrate the Passover within a lively context of reflection and discussion.
Of course, it was not just a meal between friends; Jesus did not just act as a good host who provided food and drink. Something special was about to happen. But it was about to happen in a setting of warmth and friendship, acceptance and love. Jesus called his disciples his spiritual family. And here we have this family group gathered together the night before their Master's death. So whatever else Jesus' death means, it means that we can become part of this fellowship, this family of acceptance, and love. If this service tonight, or any service any time, is merely a ritual in which words are recited and gestures made, but which does not provide that feeling of emotional belonging, of love, of family, it has failed.
The synoptic Gospels focus on that special point in the meal when Jesus took the bread and broke it and gave it to each one then took a single cup of wine and passed it to each one in turn. What was special was that the same food and the same cup were shared. He gave it to them. As we think about the meaning of Jesus' death, we realize that this was a profound sharing, not just a sharing of food.
It is this image that makes Jesus' death so different from the brutal deaths of so many hundreds of thousands of others who have been executed throughout history. Jesus' life was not taken from him; it was given for his friends. He shared his life with others in the ultimate sense. And as we gather around this table, we get the message with the original twelve that somehow we are called to share in this act of giving our lives for others as Jesus did.
This is the focus of tonight's gospel, with the details of Jesus washing the disciples' feet right after dinner, apparently after sharing food. Jesus shared himself like a slave, the servant who comes in to wash the feet of guests reclining at table, an individual hardly noticed and whose service is scarcely acknowledged. But it is humble service that is pleasing to the Father.
Part of the meaning of Jesus' death for us is that we are called to be willing to die for one another, to share our lives in the ultimate sense. For more than a few in the twentieth century that literally meant martyrdom. For many it means sharing our lives a little at a time, dying many little deaths for others in servanthood: in giving what we would rather keep; in doing tasks we really don't like and do not find personally gratifying, but which are for the common good, in Jesus' name. Sharing in the blood of the new covenant would be a hollow ritual indeed if we did not pledge ourselves to observe the new commandment Jesus gave: "Love one another, just as I have loved you, you also must love one another" (l3:34).
The third aspect of this meal that helps us find meaning in Jesus' death is that it is set in a context of very real human weakness and misunderstanding. Not surprisingly, Peter unintentionally articulates the problem. He cannot bear to have Jesus act as a mere servant -- less or more would be acceptable -- but not an abject servant. But Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no share with me" (13:8b). Even in this late hour of life the Lord bears with Peter and the others with incredible patience and reminds them that their relationships are not to be modeled on "business as usual" (v. 15).
The meaning of Christ's death becomes a little clearer. It is not just that "Jesus died to free us from sin." which he did. But it shows us how he freed us and what he frees us for. Christ's death was not an unfortunate incident or the unforeseen consequence of his bold public ministry. It was, on the contrary, a way in which he brings us into that fellowship of acceptance and warmth, friendship and love that characterizes the family of his disciples. It reminds us that as Christ shared himself ultimately -- shared his flesh and blood -- with us, we are called to share with one another. And it tells us that while we may not understand this lesson at first, it is one that is so important that Christ will not let us forget it until we put aside the ways of this world, the "normal" ways of doing things with all their concerns for status and success, and accept the ways of his kingdom, which are service and servanthood. As Christ lived and died for us, we find meaning in living and dying for others.
With all these incredible and exciting things going on, Jesus stopped on the mountainside and asked the disciples, "Who do men say that I am?" They responded with the answer we all know so well: "Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah or Jeremiah or one of the prophets." Then came the really crucial question: "But who do you say that I am?" It was one thing to be caught up in the sweep of events or the air of excitement, but quite another to make the personal profession of faith Jesus was now seeking.
We gather on Maundy Thursday caught up by another set of familiar circumstances: the setting of Holy Week. The Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday; the cleansing of the Temple; the confrontations with the religious authorities; the decision by Judas to betray his master; the Upper Room experience; the death on the cross. We have heard and read and sung interpretations of these events all our lives. No other period of the Christian Year (including Christmas) receives this kind of intense theological attention. But tonight the question for us is, what does this all mean? What does this death of Christ on the cross mean for me as a person? Not just in a dogmatic way, reciting the right answer to a catachetical question; not just in a historical way, getting all the facts straight. But in a personal sense, what does this death mean to me?
We have all, unfortunately, seen far too much of killings: ethnic cleansing and genocide, executions and assassinations, terrorist bombings and military actions. We find ourselves asking what these deaths mean. What significance should we attach to the death of a great public figure cut down by the bullet of a maniacal assassin or an international plot? And what of the deaths of so many nameless ones, whose passing goes as unnoticed by the world at large as did Jesus' death? In our day when it is so hard to see world events beyond the CNN crisis of the moment, what do these things mean?
A man's death may come suddenly, accidentally, and the meaning of it may be no more than this: that life is a fragile thing. A terrible natural disaster may have no more meaning than that given by the preacher of Ecclesiastes: "Time and chance happen to all...." A person may be executed and the meaning of his death may simply be that superior force carried him away against his will. But Jesus' death was not like that. In a variety of ways, we hear Jesus saying, "I see this coming, and I accept it for your sake" (see John 10:18).
On the night before the crucifixion Jesus tried to help his followers understand the meaning of what was happening. But he did not on this occasion use the method of the preacher, giving a sermonic lecture on the subject or speaking in parables. Instead he performed prophetic actions, like the prophets of old engaging in symbolic actions that in their own way gave notice of the true meaning of events and insight into what was about to happen. You recall Ahijah cutting the new cloak into twelve pieces, Jeremiah smashing the potter's vessel, or Hosea taking the unfaithful Gomer back to his house. Now Jesus performs some prophetic actions. What do these tell us about the meaning of his death?
The first thing he did was give a dinner and invite his closest friends. This may seem like a needless thing to say, but I think no matter how well we know this fact, it is hard for us really to get into the spirit of this evening, for most of our communion services bear no resemblance whatsoever to the Last Supper, and I would include in this most of the ritualized "Christian Seders" that have become popular in church.
For over a decade, Neu Chapel and the Hillel group at the University of Evansville have celebrated a demonstration Seder for non-Jewish students. One of the biggest problems is that many Christians come to the Seder with a certain mindset. They are appropriately reverent, saying all the prayers and going through the ritual with great solemnity. They need to be told, "You're much too stiff and formal. When we Jews celebrate the Passover, we say a prayer, then talk or laugh a bit, then we have a glass of wine, and after some more conversation we say another prayer. It's a big family thing." So if we wish to understand what this evening is all about, we must remember that these were friends gathered together to celebrate the Passover within a lively context of reflection and discussion.
Of course, it was not just a meal between friends; Jesus did not just act as a good host who provided food and drink. Something special was about to happen. But it was about to happen in a setting of warmth and friendship, acceptance and love. Jesus called his disciples his spiritual family. And here we have this family group gathered together the night before their Master's death. So whatever else Jesus' death means, it means that we can become part of this fellowship, this family of acceptance, and love. If this service tonight, or any service any time, is merely a ritual in which words are recited and gestures made, but which does not provide that feeling of emotional belonging, of love, of family, it has failed.
The synoptic Gospels focus on that special point in the meal when Jesus took the bread and broke it and gave it to each one then took a single cup of wine and passed it to each one in turn. What was special was that the same food and the same cup were shared. He gave it to them. As we think about the meaning of Jesus' death, we realize that this was a profound sharing, not just a sharing of food.
It is this image that makes Jesus' death so different from the brutal deaths of so many hundreds of thousands of others who have been executed throughout history. Jesus' life was not taken from him; it was given for his friends. He shared his life with others in the ultimate sense. And as we gather around this table, we get the message with the original twelve that somehow we are called to share in this act of giving our lives for others as Jesus did.
This is the focus of tonight's gospel, with the details of Jesus washing the disciples' feet right after dinner, apparently after sharing food. Jesus shared himself like a slave, the servant who comes in to wash the feet of guests reclining at table, an individual hardly noticed and whose service is scarcely acknowledged. But it is humble service that is pleasing to the Father.
Part of the meaning of Jesus' death for us is that we are called to be willing to die for one another, to share our lives in the ultimate sense. For more than a few in the twentieth century that literally meant martyrdom. For many it means sharing our lives a little at a time, dying many little deaths for others in servanthood: in giving what we would rather keep; in doing tasks we really don't like and do not find personally gratifying, but which are for the common good, in Jesus' name. Sharing in the blood of the new covenant would be a hollow ritual indeed if we did not pledge ourselves to observe the new commandment Jesus gave: "Love one another, just as I have loved you, you also must love one another" (l3:34).
The third aspect of this meal that helps us find meaning in Jesus' death is that it is set in a context of very real human weakness and misunderstanding. Not surprisingly, Peter unintentionally articulates the problem. He cannot bear to have Jesus act as a mere servant -- less or more would be acceptable -- but not an abject servant. But Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no share with me" (13:8b). Even in this late hour of life the Lord bears with Peter and the others with incredible patience and reminds them that their relationships are not to be modeled on "business as usual" (v. 15).
The meaning of Christ's death becomes a little clearer. It is not just that "Jesus died to free us from sin." which he did. But it shows us how he freed us and what he frees us for. Christ's death was not an unfortunate incident or the unforeseen consequence of his bold public ministry. It was, on the contrary, a way in which he brings us into that fellowship of acceptance and warmth, friendship and love that characterizes the family of his disciples. It reminds us that as Christ shared himself ultimately -- shared his flesh and blood -- with us, we are called to share with one another. And it tells us that while we may not understand this lesson at first, it is one that is so important that Christ will not let us forget it until we put aside the ways of this world, the "normal" ways of doing things with all their concerns for status and success, and accept the ways of his kingdom, which are service and servanthood. As Christ lived and died for us, we find meaning in living and dying for others.
