Maundy Thursday – Rev. Aimee Baxter

 One of our young people came up to me at our Hospitality time between services on Sunday. She leaned in close with a good degree of seriousness. I prepared myself for what was to come. She exclaimed in a whisper, “I LOVE all this food!” I looked at her plate to see a mound of powdered donuts, brownies, and quiche. I smiled and said, “I love to see all this food too!”

She expressed what I knew to be true in that moment. There is power in food – especially food shared among others. It’s something we have missed here at St. Thomas, and I am so glad it’s back.

To me, breaking bread together is sacred. Think about it. Fellowship around the table just feels different. Gathering to discuss ideas is enhanced when a meal is shared. Fun fact: Our Holy Week services were planned out by your clergy over lunch.

I can’t explain it, I just know it is true. There is mystery to eating together and the meal shared between Jesus and his disciples which we remember tonight bears witness to this truth.

Rev. Maddie Henderson put it this way. “It is as though, because of this last supper, no meal among disciples is just a meal, because no loaf is just bread, no cup is just wine.”

Jesus is at work in this meal and as a result in all our meals. Any space where we break bread and drink from the cup can become a place to welcome God’s presence and have fellowship with Jesus and each other.

Bishop Michael Curry tells the story of his father’s first time at an Episcopal church in his book, Love Is The Way. Curry explains that on this visit there were only a few black parishioners in the pews. His father looked at the altar and noticed there was only one chalice. He braced himself. It was after all the 1940’s.

When the time came for communion, his father sat back and watched. He was feeling the situation out. Curry’s mother sipped from the cup. His father held his breath. The cup was passed, and the next person drank from it. And the next. And the next. Then, the next.

Bishop Curry quotes his father saying, “Any church in which Blacks and Whites drink out of the same cup knows something about the gospel that I want to be a part of.” And the rest is history as they say.

In that Episcopal Church in Chicago, much like this night with Jesus’ disciples, the breaking of bread and sharing the cup became more than a simple meal among believers. It changed the trajectory of someone’s life.

Jesus doesn’t work doesn’t end with making the meal extraordinary on this night. He pushes beyond the norm to uphold an act typically designated for a servant as the example for each of us to follow.

As he washes the feet of his disciples, despite Peter’s insistence that this is just not okay, Jesus turns what is a customary practice of hygiene into something more. It becomes a model for how we should live our lives. Full of love and the willingness to serve one another.

The story of Bishop Curry’s father prompted in my mind another example of how a small act can become so much more. On May 9, 1969, an episode of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood aired.  In this episode, Mr. Rogers is cooling his feet on a hot day when Officer Clemmons, a black man, stops by.

Mr. Rogers invites Officer Clemmons to join him in the pool. If you know your history, you know this invitation meant a lot more than two men simply cooling off their feet together. They sat and chatted with their feet side by side for a while. When it came time for Officer Clemmons to go, viewers noted that the towel he used to dry his feet is the same one Mr. Rogers used later on his own feet. This act of love broke the color barrier of the time.

In 1993, when Officer Clemmons made his last appearance on the show, he and Mr. Rogers recreated the pool scene. This time Clemmons didn't just use Fred Rogers' towel, but Mr. Rogers took the towel and dried Clemmons' feet himself. Officer Clemmons saw a connection to Jesus washing his disciples' feet, and later said, "I am a Black gay man and Fred washed my feet."

Fred Rogers beautifully demonstrated Jesus’ words, “I give you a new commandment that you love one another.”

That common cup in Chicago or a wading pool on a TV set weren’t gimmicks to portray a false sense of love, they were invitations to experience Jesus in the ways that he gave us on this night.

My hunch is that Jesus knew these acts of breaking bread, sharing the common cup, and washing each other’s feet would eventually shape us to be Jesus to the world. In other words, these acts have the power to transform us so that our shared life in Christ moves beyond what we do, to who we are becoming.

When we become a servant, love spills out. This overflow is how I believe Jesus still washes the feet of his betrayer. It wasn’t so much something he was doing, it’s who he is. He couldn’t not do it. Love wouldn’t allow it. Jesus is love.

When the essence of who we are is love and we become the body of Christ, then this meal, these actions of Jesus, exceed a moment and last a lifetime.

Henri Nouwen expresses this sentiment beautifully. He writes, “The real question is not ‘What can we offer each other?’ but ‘Who can we be for each other?’ No doubt it is wonderful that we can repair something for a neighbor, give helpful advice to a friend, offer wise counsel to a colleague, bring healing to a patient, or announce good news to a parishioner, but there is a greater gift than all of this. It is the gift of our own life that shines through all we do.

As I grow older, I discover more and more that the greatest gift I have to offer is my own joy of living, my own inner peace, my own silence and solitude, my own sense of well-being. When I ask myself, ‘Who helps me most?’ I just answer, “The one who is willing to share his or her life.”

I invite you as we come forward to wash one another’s feet and gather at the altar rail, to remember that what we do this night is a sharing of our lives together.

It’s where love begins. It’s how we become the Body of Christ.

What we do tomorrow, and Saturday, and Sunday is too.

Tonight, is only the beginning. Amen.