Scripture 1 Corinthians 11:23-26
A reading from Paul’s letter to the church in Corinth, beginning at chapter 11, verse 23. This passage is known as the institution of the Lord’s Supper.
For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.
Scripture John 13: 1-20, 31-35
Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already decided that Judas son of Simon Iscariot would betray Jesus. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from supper, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Jesus said to him, “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.” For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.”
After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had reclined again, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, slaves are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them. I am not speaking of all of you; I know whom I have chosen. But it is to fulfill the scripture, ‘The one who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me.’ I tell you this now, before it occurs, so that when it does occur you may believe that I am he. Very truly, I tell you, whoever receives one whom I send receives me, and whoever receives me receives him who sent me.”
When [Judas] had gone out, Jesus said, “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me, and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
Sermon
Come, thou fount of every blessing,
tune my heart to sing thy grace.
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
call for songs of loudest praise.
For the past six weeks we’ve been following the journey of Peter, which also happens to be the journey of Jesus. And all through this time, we’ve been taking lyrics from this hymn, “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing,” and seeing Peter’s experience reflected in those words. Tonight, the first part of the first verse of this hymn comes together. These lyrics, penned by a newly-converted man in his 20’s, roughly 20 years before the American Revolution, come together in these passages of scripture, and in this night and all that it signifies, and all that we remember together here.
Our two passages, taken together, tell us everything we need to know about that meal on the night before Jesus’ death. Our reading from 1 Corinthians is the earliest testimony we have about Jesus’ actions at that meal. Before Matthew, before Mark, before Luke, Paul wrote these words in a letter to a conflict-ridden church in Corinth. This is what the Lord had handed onto him, he says: this baffling language from Jesus about bread being his body, and the contents of the cup being his blood, words that would shake the world, and not just in the aftermath of the crucifixion. Words that continue to shake the world until this very day. How can this be? What does this mean? Our inability to come to a consensus about these words is one of the biggest reasons that there are more than 45,000 Christian denominations all over the world.
All the gospels assure us that Jesus knows what is coming. The Gospel of John is clear: Jesus’ hour has come, the hour when the crucifixion is no longer a prediction, but instead, is a certainty.
Jesus knows he is going to die, and that colors everything he says and everything he does. It is the reason he claims the bread as his body—broken, shared. It is the reason he claims the cup contains his blood—poured out, shared, for you, he tells them. Just as this bread and wine will be consumed, he says, so will I.
Jesus knows that the wheels of government and religious certainty will work in deadly collaboration to obliterate him from the earth, because he is just too frightening and dangerous. Love is frightening and dangerous, because it requires that we consider the well-being, not just of ourselves, but of our neighbor. Love is frightening and dangerous because it disrupts the status quo that tells us, we will always have the poor with us, and allows that be a soothing absolution of our disinterest rather than a call to action in the name of all that is holy. So, remember this, Jesus says. Remember me. Remember your neighbor. Remember the poor. Remember love, and what it has done and what it can do. Remember, every time you break bread and share the cup.
In our second passage, from the Gospel according to John, dinner is over, and not a word is said about Jesus’ strange claims. Instead, the passage begins like a poem:
Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.
… And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands and that he had come from God and was going to God…
What? These words leave us breathless and wondering what’s coming next. What will Jesus do, with all that love, and with that deep trust in God?
And the next part of that sentence is yet another moment of bafflement.
Jesus gets up from supper. He takes off his outer robe and ties a towel around himself. He pours water into a basin and begins to wash the disciples’ feet and to dry them with the towel that is tied around him.
How can this be? What does this mean?
Jesus stuns the disciples with his actions. He dresses as a servant—as a slave, with a towel wrapped around his inner garment—and he washes their feet—again, the actions of a slave.
This is deeply troubling for the disciples, and it stuns them into silence. Mostly. Jesus goes along successfully washing their feet with no interruption. And then he comes to Peter. The one he has called “the rock.”
We’ve spent so much time with Peter this Lent. We’ve seen him at his best and most faithful, when he is soaking up what Jesus is teaching like a sponge. We’ve seen him at other times—when he is frightened, or refusing to listen to what Jesus has to say because it’s too disturbing. This is one of those disturbing moments. Jesus is their rabbi, their teacher. In Hebrew, Rabbi literally means, “my great one.” Peter and the others all look up to Jesus, regard him with a kind of awe, see the holiness in him, his powerful connection to God. They want to learn from him.
From their perspective, he just can’t wash their feet. It’s… not right. It violates their compact with him: They are the students, the learners. Jesus is their teacher, and they revere him. They can’t allow him to humiliate himself in front of them.
But there’s a difference between humiliation and humility. Jesus is practicing humility. Again, he is demonstrating love. And that kind of love—love that breaks down the expected roles and removes barriers based on status—it’s unsettling. It upends things. But no one says a word until it’s Peter’s turn.
Jesus’ words to Peter are sobering. “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” This is essential. This moment, when I wash your feet. This lesson. There’s something for you to learn here. If you don’t learn it, you can’t do what I need you to do—carry on without me when I’m gone.
After Peter’s feet are clean, and Jesus once again is fully clothed, he poses a question to the group: Do you understand what just happened? An essential tenet of what I have taught you. Yes, I’m your Lord and teacher. And I washed your feet. This is how I want you to care for one another. This is how I want you to live—without shame, without thoughts of status, each of you servants to the others. Each of you willing to do what needs to be done—whether with one another, or with the countless people out there who need your help. Who need to be cherished. Who need to be fed. Who need to be welcomed in. Who need to find the connection that only community and knowing the love of God can provide.
Streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise.
Jesus pours out streams of mercy at this meal. He has shared the cup, reminding them that his blood will be poured out, for them, for many, for all. Streams of mercy flow from that cup—both for the disciples in that upper room, and in this moment, for each person gathering around Jesus’ table tonight, here and all around the world. We will receive the cup and take in those streams of mercy—poured out to strengthen us for our journeys, even here, even now.
And Jesus pours out streams of mercy in the act of washing the disciples’ feet. It is a lesson in humility and service. Is it a reminder of their baptisms? Is it a reminder of the motherly love of God poured out for them? Is it a reminder of God’s willingness to be with us in the messiness of life, as well as in moments of transcendence and beauty? All of these?
These two passages of scripture build to Jesus’ final words at the table: the new commandment. Holy Thursday, Maundy Thursday—these are the same celebration. For us, we focus on the commandment—that’s what “Maundy” refers to, it’s from an old English word related to “mandate.”
First Jesus shows them how it is done. Then he tells them what it is that he has done. These streams of mercy are a lesson in love. Love one another, he tells them. Just as I have loved you, so also you should love one another. And this is what it looks like.
It looks like pouring out your life in service to others.
It looks like sharing what you have.
It looks like acts of service, whether you are the big boss or the newest recruit.
It looks like bread and cup, passed around a table, as we remember.
It looks like loving the ones who have been given to us and loving them to the end.
Thanks be to God. Amen.