How Do We Know?
Maundy Thursday, April 2, 2015 (Exodus 12:1-14; I Corinthians 11:23-26 & John 13:1-17, 31-35)
On this night of nights Jesus asks the earliest disciples, "Do you know what I have done to you?"
On this night of nights, the night before we, in our feeble but so often genuine attempts to commemorate Jesus' suffering and death, he may still be asking us, "Do we know what he has done to us?"
Do we know – really know? ... Can we?
Last week I was privileged to visit my parents. They are now 91 and 90 years old. They live in an incredible facility aptly named Good Shepherd Villas. My mother remains feisty. But at 90 she is incapable of toileting herself. So every day at least twice a day while in her bathroom she presses the bell button attached to her wrist. And within a few minutes a staff member appears. They always knock on her bathroom door, call out her name and then respectfully but quite competently care for her.
I observe this with considerable humility. I am wondering if I could do that for my mother, if she so needed me? This woman, who has done so much for me, carried me in her womb, wiped my bottom countless times. This woman, who waited up for me through my teen years, who was always there, and who even now in her forgetful state prays daily for me. Even now she has to put up with my less than perfect characteristics. She tells my adult daughter as they are walking arm in arm down the hallway that "Your dad is quite bossy". It's true! Do I know what she has done for me, to me, my mother?
Tonight, the night of his betrayal, Jesus asks his disciples just after he had washed their feet, if they know what he has done to them?
I am convinced THAT THEY DO NOT KNOW. In many ways they will never know what Jesus has done to them.
I am also convinced that we don't know – in many ways we never can know exactly what Jesus has done to them, TO US and FOR US.
What Jesus does is JUST TOO BIG, TOO AWESOME, TOO AMAZING. In suffering and dying, he doesn't just wash our bottoms or even our feet. In suffering and dying Jesus takes on all our crud. In his suffering and dying he takes on all our betrayals of him – our refusal to tell others, to show others, to live with the love he has showered upon us from before our conception, indeed from time immemorial. In His dying Jesus takes on our pride that has us think that we are pretty smart, that we know what's going on, that at the very least we are better than so many others. In His suffering and dying Jesus takes upon Himself our conviction that we have to get more or be more to survive and matter. In his suffering and dying Jesus not only takes on all of that but then He lets go of all of that. He even promises us that we can too – let go of all of that. In His suffering and dying we can see his love for us, his power to move us to love as he loves, not for our sake only, but for the sake of all.
Do we see any of what Jesus does for us? It isn't just about then and there – as incredible, as amazing, as seemingly unlikely and impossible as all of that was. It is also about here and now. Jesus' life and death are about His love for us, about enabling and empowering us to love as He loves us, in ways that on our own are impossible. This is to love in ways that let go of our need to control, that let go of our fear and security that drive us to seek more and more and more. Jesus' life and death have the power to open our eyes and ears to the pain and suffering of others. Such love moves us to give sacrificially to help, to care with and for others. After all, it is in Christ's life, suffering, death and resurrection that we begin to see that all are God's children.
Do we know what he has done to us in his suffering and death? Do we KNOW?
Even if we don't – even if we can't – Jesus keeps obeying God, giving His life to serve people. He does suffer. He dies. In dying he gives himself over to the powers that seek to destroy, debase, humiliate and eliminate. He does this for us. He does this for the world. We are washed and washed and washed again – by and through him. We are offered his body and blood – which somehow brings new life for us and for the world.
Even if we don't or can't fully know what Jesus has done and is doing to us, by God's grace may we respond with new life and love. Amen.