Maundy Thursday

Once upon a time—four thousand years ago, to be precise, for this is no fairytale--God promised to our ancestor Abraham that he would make of him a great nation, and that through this nation God would bless all the families of the earth.

When Abraham’s great-great-grandchildren became slaves in Egypt, God sent Moses with great miracles and wonders, and this Word to Pharaoh: let my people go!  But of course, Pharaoh did not listen to God, even though God sent nine plagues--flies and gnats and hail and frogs, and the Nile River turning to blood! So God said to Moses: “there is one final miracle. And after this one, Pharaoh will set you free. Get the people ready to leave Egypt, for I will save them this very night.”

That night, God sent the Angel of death to kill all the firstborn in Egypt, both man and beast. Into every house and every barn it went, from the lowliest shack to the palace of Pharaoh. But this deadly plague passed over each house of the Israelites—every house marked with the blood of a lamb. And in every generation after, the Passover meal retold the story of that liberation, of God keeping his promises to his people, of the night the lamb died and the people lived.

1400 years after the first Passover and the exodus from Egypt,  Jesus and his disciples go to Jerusalem to celebrate again the ancient story of deliverance, and to eat the Passover supper. They had all done this every year of their lives. And everyone knew the story by heart, and how the dinner was to be celebrated. Roasted lamb was served,  reminding them of the blood of the lamb painted upon the doorways. The pita-like flatbread recalled the speed of liberation, so quick that the bread dough did not have time to rise. The cups of wine represent the sweet joys of freedom. And unlike the first Passover, which had to be eaten quickly while dressed for travel, the meal now was eaten in a relaxed manner, reclining around a table, with your closest friends and family.

But this night is different from all the others. This meal, this supper, will be the last one before Jesus’ death. He knows that the Temple authorities are out to kill him and that the Romans will settle unrest any way they have to. He knows that one of his own disciples—one of the beloved Twelve—has agreed to betray him into the hands of his enemies. He knows he will be tortured. He knows he will die in front of his mother’s horrified eyes. And so knowing that his time is short, that he had come from God and was going to God, Jesus does something strange, something new.

First he washes his disciples’ feet, which is gross. Let’s be honest. Back then, most people walked everywhere in sandals or even bare feet, through the dirt and manure and mud. Servants, if you could afford them, would wash your feet when you got home, so you didn’t track any of that muck in the house. But at this Last Supper, Jesus washes the feet of his disciples. It’s dirty work, servant work. Peter expects to wash his Master’s feet, not vice versa.

Jesus changes the script of this dinner, too. At a usual Passover supper, the head of the family or group would always recite the story of the Passover and the escape from Egypt as bread is served and wine is poured. But Jesus doesn’t tell that story tonight. Instead, he says that from now on, the bread is his Body, the wine is his Blood, and he himself will be the Passover Lamb.

From now on, this is the New Covenant that God makes with all people of every time and place who are marked with Christ’s blood. This is how God fulfills his promises to Abraham to save the world: in the body of his Son.

And then Jesus says that you are to do this no longer in memory of the Exodus—no longer returning to the story of one people’s liberation from slavery—but now in remembrance of Me, Jesus says: the one who has come to free all people from bondage to sin.

And unlike the other Passover meals, this one does not conclude after the last cup of wine is poured.  No, THIS one concludes the next afternoon, when Jesus tastes the final cup of wine on the cross, and at the exact time when the lambs were sacrificed in the Temple, proclaims to the world, “It is finished.”

Jesus is now the final Passover Lamb who takes the place of the firstborn—this Lamb’s body dies in our stead, the Lamb’s blood marks us so that we are saved from death. Once and forever.

Like Jesus and his disciples, we gather again to hear the ancient story of the Passover and our Lord’s fulfillment of it. We marvel that we, too, are children of the covenant that God made with Abraham. That we are part of the blessing that God promised to his ancient people. And we call this night Maundy Thursday, from the word mandate or command. Because on this night, at the Passover meal, Jesus, who was about to fulfill all the old commandments, said to us: “I give to you a New Commandment, that you love one another just as I have loved you.”

All Lent, we have been discussing the Ten Commandments—the covenant that God made with his ancient Hebrew people. I detailed to you how God decided to be our God, first and foremost. How he set about protecting life through the 10 Commands. But I also told you that these commandments could not give life themselves. It is not possible for them to bring forgiveness of sin. They cannot make us new. All they can do is fence our evil, and give us some room to live together, protected from the worst of the old self’s greedy desires.

But if the 10 Commandments—the Law—cannot save us, then there must be a new covenant, right? When we see that we cannot keep these 10 commands right at all—then there’s got to be something, someone, else to rescue us, right?

And now you see it. Don’t you see it? The reason you don’t keep that Law for your salvation is because Jesus fulfilled the Law—for you. His blood is your salvation. His sacrifice is once, for all time. He is the final Passover Lamb, who takes away the sin of the world.

And you also see why we still keep the commandments—having been freed from the burden of keeping the Law for salvation, we instead keep them out of love. Because Jesus loved us first. He humbles himself to wash our dirty feet, taking the role of a slave. He offers himself up to the whip, the thorns, the Cross, the spear. An innocent man takes your sins on himself. And dies for you. Out of love.

“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.” Having been loved by Jesus, having been made new by Jesus, we love our neighbors and keep the commandments for their sake—out of love for our Lord.

Like Peter, you have been washed; you are a part of Jesus. And what he did for you on the cross gets put in your hands and poured into your mouth every single time you come to this Altar. His forgiveness is spoken to you, directly. I just told you, “In obedience to the command of our Lord Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins.” That’s a word directly from Jesus to you, just like “The Body of Christ, given for you. The Blood of Christ, shed for you.” Pure love.  

And what do you do? You receive it. You don't offer anything in payment because you can't. Love is not negotiated, and it does not balance the books. It is not a bargain or a give and take “If you do this, then I do that.” No—you simply open your hands, open your mouths and take, eat. Take, drink.

Tonight, Jesus asks us again: "Do you know what I have done to you?" Yes, Lord, we know. You have poured out water to wash us, you have poured out your blood to make us clean. You have poured your body and blood into our mouths. You have loved your own to the end.  You have loved us to the end.