Death Into Life
During the past few weeks of this season of Lent, we’ve been spending some time contemplating the gray areas in between the absolutes of our faith.
We believe in a mighty and majestic God, a God who spun the universe into being with little more than a breath and a word. An infinite and cosmic God beyond all understanding.
Yet also a God who lives and walks with us, who offers us love and comfort. A God of compassion. Infinite. Yet Intimate.
We believe in a God of incredible power; capable of doing anything. Including dying a self-sacrificial death for a creation He loves. A God who lives, dies, and rises to live again.
We believe that we are created by God out of the dust and ash of the earth. And it is back to the dust and ash that we will return. Yet we are also fearfully and wonderfully made, in our God’s own image. And in between the dust of our creation and the ash of our return, there are lifetimes of beauty and love. For us the world was made. As much as we are nothing, we are everything.
And we believe that God asks us to love. God compels us to love. God commands us to love. To love each other and to love God’s own self. With humility. But also with boldness.
We are humble before our Lord, as our Lord Jesus Christ was humble before us.
On the night of his betrayal Jesus stood up from the table where they were eating.
He poured water into a basin.
And taking a towel, he began to wash the feet of the disciples.
Maybe it’s because I’ve heard this story so often that I just skip over the image of this. The first dozen or so times I read this passage, I breezed right on through it. “he poured water into the basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet.” Ok, great. What’s next?
But think about that image for a moment.
If you were out to dinner with your boss or the CEO of your company or someone with just more status or stature than you. And in the middle of dinner… with no warning or prompting… the one person who was sitting at the head of the table… the one person that commands everyone’s respect… the leader of the group… the person who's picking up the tab for everyone's meal... if that person suddenly got up… got a wet towel… got down on their hands and knees… and started washing feet.
You’d think they’d gone mad. We don’t like to touch other people, let alone other peoples’ feet. And we certainly don’t get down on our hands and knees for anybody. And if we were at a dinner, and someone got down on their hands and knees to wash our feet… we can imagine everything from a loud outcry and “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” to the subsequent hushed conversations and whispers of “They've lost their mind!… Should we call their family? Do you know anything about staging interventions? What do we do?”
Now, I am fully aware that there are contextual differences between modern American sensibilities and those of ancient Judea. That it was fully expected, especially in areas like Judea, where roads were dusty and people usually wore sandals, for hosts to provide water for guests to wash their feet, or even to wash their feet for them.
But at no time, and in no place, is it a prideful act.
To get down on your hands and knees and wash the dust and the dirt off another person’s feet is to literally lower yourself before them. If you’re in a foot-washing culture, and Cousin Eddie from next door comes into your house for the 10th time that day, you’re not getting down on your hands and knees and washing Eddie’s dusty toes. You’re busy and Eddie knows where the water is. He can do it himself.
You save that for someone important.
You don’t lower yourself… and humble yourself… for just anyone. You do that for someone you love - someone you honor.
You might do that for the town elder. Or perhaps for a visiting priest. Mary, Martha’s sister, did it for Jesus in the days prior to this, honoring him further by using not just water, but expensive perfume.
And Jesus did it for us.
When Jesus pours out the water into the basin, and washes Peter’s feet… everyone is confused. Peter begins to protest… “Lord – you can’t wash my feet!”
But Jesus persists.
And realizing that his feet are about to get washed whether he likes it or not… Peter goes the other direction… “well… if you’re going to wash my feet, why not my hands too?”
But Jesus isn’t having any of that either. He’s in a foot-washing mood tonight. The rest of them is clean.
Jesus uses this as an opportunity to tell the disciples and everyone at the dinner… that they are all clean, except for the one who is about to betray him. So Jesus is spilling the beans. He knows what’s up. He’s calling Judas out.
But the way in which he does it… is through an act of love and humility that, by all rights, the disciples should have done for him.
We are called to love. That’s not news. If you paid attention for two seconds in Sunday School you know that God is all about love.
Jesus stooping down with a towel to wash the feet of his closest friends? That’s an act of love.
Jesus spending those few hours, when he knows Judas is about to betray him, spending those few hours with his friends, and then in prayer, when he could have been trying to sneak away and make a break out of the city? That’s an act of love.
Jesus taking up his cross and going to his death on Golgotha… Taking every mocking insult that the people cursed at him… suffering every nail that pierced his flesh… shedding every drop of blood that stained the ground below him… and uttering every one of his dying whispers to offer forgiveness to his tormentors… those were all acts of love.
Our God loves us in ways that are both grand and majestic and bold… and in ways that are close… intimate… and humble.
It is how God wants us to love as well. Love boldly. Without fear. Without embarrassment. Love without shame. We live in a cynical world, where the it can sometimes hurt to be sincere. And yet, if we have faith we have to be sincere in our love for God and neighbor.
And to love humbly. To love without pride. Without ego. Love without getting in your own way. No act of true love is ever beneath any of us. We are not too good to give our love to others. Receiving God’s love and giving that love back to God and to each other is our very purpose for being here.
Without love, we really are nothing but dust and ash.
But with love… With love, we are brought out of death and into live. With love, we are both bold and humble before our Lord, kept close and trusted by Him, yet also awestruck in his presence. With love, we are a delight to the Lord, as Jesus himself has shown us.
To God be all glory, praise, and honor. Amen.
Let us pray together.
Holy Lord, we are gathered together once again in thanksgiving and worship of your Holy Name. We pray that you give us humble and loving hearts, so that we may never hesitate to be of service to our neighbors. Take away our pride, our vanity, and our self-righteousness, and call us joyfully and eagerly into your service. We pray this through the name of the one who gave up everything for us, Jesus Christ.
Amen.
During the past few weeks of this season of Lent, we’ve been spending some time contemplating the gray areas in between the absolutes of our faith.
We believe in a mighty and majestic God, a God who spun the universe into being with little more than a breath and a word. An infinite and cosmic God beyond all understanding.
Yet also a God who lives and walks with us, who offers us love and comfort. A God of compassion. Infinite. Yet Intimate.
We believe in a God of incredible power; capable of doing anything. Including dying a self-sacrificial death for a creation He loves. A God who lives, dies, and rises to live again.
We believe that we are created by God out of the dust and ash of the earth. And it is back to the dust and ash that we will return. Yet we are also fearfully and wonderfully made, in our God’s own image. And in between the dust of our creation and the ash of our return, there are lifetimes of beauty and love. For us the world was made. As much as we are nothing, we are everything.
And we believe that God asks us to love. God compels us to love. God commands us to love. To love each other and to love God’s own self. With humility. But also with boldness.
We are humble before our Lord, as our Lord Jesus Christ was humble before us.
On the night of his betrayal Jesus stood up from the table where they were eating.
He poured water into a basin.
And taking a towel, he began to wash the feet of the disciples.
Maybe it’s because I’ve heard this story so often that I just skip over the image of this. The first dozen or so times I read this passage, I breezed right on through it. “he poured water into the basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet.” Ok, great. What’s next?
But think about that image for a moment.
If you were out to dinner with your boss or the CEO of your company or someone with just more status or stature than you. And in the middle of dinner… with no warning or prompting… the one person who was sitting at the head of the table… the one person that commands everyone’s respect… the leader of the group… the person who's picking up the tab for everyone's meal... if that person suddenly got up… got a wet towel… got down on their hands and knees… and started washing feet.
You’d think they’d gone mad. We don’t like to touch other people, let alone other peoples’ feet. And we certainly don’t get down on our hands and knees for anybody. And if we were at a dinner, and someone got down on their hands and knees to wash our feet… we can imagine everything from a loud outcry and “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” to the subsequent hushed conversations and whispers of “They've lost their mind!… Should we call their family? Do you know anything about staging interventions? What do we do?”
Now, I am fully aware that there are contextual differences between modern American sensibilities and those of ancient Judea. That it was fully expected, especially in areas like Judea, where roads were dusty and people usually wore sandals, for hosts to provide water for guests to wash their feet, or even to wash their feet for them.
But at no time, and in no place, is it a prideful act.
To get down on your hands and knees and wash the dust and the dirt off another person’s feet is to literally lower yourself before them. If you’re in a foot-washing culture, and Cousin Eddie from next door comes into your house for the 10th time that day, you’re not getting down on your hands and knees and washing Eddie’s dusty toes. You’re busy and Eddie knows where the water is. He can do it himself.
You save that for someone important.
You don’t lower yourself… and humble yourself… for just anyone. You do that for someone you love - someone you honor.
You might do that for the town elder. Or perhaps for a visiting priest. Mary, Martha’s sister, did it for Jesus in the days prior to this, honoring him further by using not just water, but expensive perfume.
And Jesus did it for us.
When Jesus pours out the water into the basin, and washes Peter’s feet… everyone is confused. Peter begins to protest… “Lord – you can’t wash my feet!”
But Jesus persists.
And realizing that his feet are about to get washed whether he likes it or not… Peter goes the other direction… “well… if you’re going to wash my feet, why not my hands too?”
But Jesus isn’t having any of that either. He’s in a foot-washing mood tonight. The rest of them is clean.
Jesus uses this as an opportunity to tell the disciples and everyone at the dinner… that they are all clean, except for the one who is about to betray him. So Jesus is spilling the beans. He knows what’s up. He’s calling Judas out.
But the way in which he does it… is through an act of love and humility that, by all rights, the disciples should have done for him.
We are called to love. That’s not news. If you paid attention for two seconds in Sunday School you know that God is all about love.
Jesus stooping down with a towel to wash the feet of his closest friends? That’s an act of love.
Jesus spending those few hours, when he knows Judas is about to betray him, spending those few hours with his friends, and then in prayer, when he could have been trying to sneak away and make a break out of the city? That’s an act of love.
Jesus taking up his cross and going to his death on Golgotha… Taking every mocking insult that the people cursed at him… suffering every nail that pierced his flesh… shedding every drop of blood that stained the ground below him… and uttering every one of his dying whispers to offer forgiveness to his tormentors… those were all acts of love.
Our God loves us in ways that are both grand and majestic and bold… and in ways that are close… intimate… and humble.
It is how God wants us to love as well. Love boldly. Without fear. Without embarrassment. Love without shame. We live in a cynical world, where the it can sometimes hurt to be sincere. And yet, if we have faith we have to be sincere in our love for God and neighbor.
And to love humbly. To love without pride. Without ego. Love without getting in your own way. No act of true love is ever beneath any of us. We are not too good to give our love to others. Receiving God’s love and giving that love back to God and to each other is our very purpose for being here.
Without love, we really are nothing but dust and ash.
But with love… With love, we are brought out of death and into live. With love, we are both bold and humble before our Lord, kept close and trusted by Him, yet also awestruck in his presence. With love, we are a delight to the Lord, as Jesus himself has shown us.
To God be all glory, praise, and honor. Amen.
Let us pray together.
Holy Lord, we are gathered together once again in thanksgiving and worship of your Holy Name. We pray that you give us humble and loving hearts, so that we may never hesitate to be of service to our neighbors. Take away our pride, our vanity, and our self-righteousness, and call us joyfully and eagerly into your service. We pray this through the name of the one who gave up everything for us, Jesus Christ.
Amen.
