Easter 3 Sermon

WITNESS

These days, when we hear of someone being called to be a witness, we think of some delightful courtroom drama on TV. There’s the hype, the serving of the subpoena, the being sworn in, etc. etc. And of course, we’re very interested when these folks are invited to give their testimony – their account of events. Of course, when this is happening on TV, it’s the height of drama, and energy, excitement. We *know* that if a testimony made it past the editing department, it’s worth watching in those 43 minutes of an hour-long escapade. It will be a definitive moment in the story.

So, if I ask you if you’ve ever been called to testify, I’m willing to bet that you’ve NOT had an experience like those on TV. If you have – wow, that’s a story I wouldn’t mind hearing sometime! Because the reality of witnessing is a little different from what’s on these programmes. It’s usually a slow process, it involves waiting in a courtroom, being asked question after question – it can be a long process. And not always a comfortable one.

And here’s another bit of a reality versus fiction – eye-witnesses are not the preferred method of providing testimony these days. It’s a harsh reality – but people would rather hear scientific proof than the personal account of people. Why is that? Why would they prefer a cold, impersonal telling of what happened? Because the facts are the facts – and not as easily open to interpretation and influence.

 Police will tell you that eye-witness accounts are not very reliable. That’s because we, as humans, all notice very different things. Our brains make all sorts of connections between what’s in front of us and what’s happened to us in the past – often without our knowing it. Just ask any 2 people who have witnessed the same event – they will share a different perspective of that same event.

 A recent example, I was asked to describe someone. While I am normally fairly articulate, I found that my description was terrible. Half the words were ‘uh…’ and the other half were so generic as to be useless. The best I could come up with was “average”. I shared this with a friend, feeling a bit of a dolt. His response was shocking to me – he said that, despite our having been friends for almost 10 years, he couldn’t describe my physical appearance. He could describe my laugh, my preference for sandals, a joke we shared at lunch last year, even recalled direct quotes from some of my sermons from 5-years ago. But he couldn’t tell you what colour my eyes were, if my hair was straight or curly, etc. He claimed I’m short (I’m 5’10”), “uh… smiley, uh… uh…” you get the idea. His focus on people is not on the visual of faces. His focus is on what he hears – and so his witness is the same. He’s like that for everybody. It’s just how his accounts are focused. Imagine a stranger trying to locate or identify me based just on someone else’s knowledge of sounds – it would be quite difficult! Well, unless I was laughing…

Another example – ask people what they ate for supper last night. Of the same meal, one person may tell you they had some meat, potatoes, and vegetables. Another person may tell you it was chicken, with yummy scalloped potatoes, carrots and peas. A foodie might extol the virtues of the asiago-and-spinach stuffed chicken breasts, the hint of mustard in the pommes gratinees, the rosemary sauce on the peaches-and-cream corn kernels that complimented the julienned carrots. Same meal, different emphasis - all based on what is important to the person speaking.

Knowing what is important to us helps us to understand what it is that we’re sharing with the world. If we’re foodies, we’ll go on about the meal. If we’re focused on sounds and not sights, we’ll talk about what we’ve heard rather than what we’ve seen. Whatever of our senses is dominant will, logically, dominate our descriptions. Likewise, when we’re trying to hear or read someone else’s account of something, we have our own dominant sense trying to take over. So a lengthy description of someone’s appearance won’t really matter to someone like my friend whose focus is on sounds; it will in fact make it more difficult for him to formulate a vision in his mind.

We all experience the world in unique ways. We all share our experiences in unique ways. And this is why we are all called to testify – to bear witness – to the risen Christ, in these unique ways, through our own unique experiences.

The readings last week and this week focus on the role of Christians bearing witness to the resurrection. And the people writing these words know that the people reading these words have not visibly seen this event – and yet they will be challenged to make it real for generations to come. They will be responsible for sharing this good news with people around the world, and with using their words to encourage the development and strengthening of faith.

Instead of demanding that people have the perfect words to use, they indicate that they want the unique and individual words of people’s unique and individual experiences. There is no formula to practice evangelism, no one perfect way to get someone to believe. There are as many ways as there are people. And so it’s important for us all to do the best we can to express our faith to the world – imperfect words, from a different perspective and with different focus. Because someone is always listening. Someone will always have a question that they haven’t asked out loud, that will need to be answered.

So we are called to bear witness. To share our own testimony. To talk about our own faith. We’re invited to talk to newcomers, to long-time church members, about our own faith journeys. We’re invited to remember our own faith journeys so that we can recall where we’ve come from. Maybe this will be an inspiration for someone just starting on their journey; maybe it will be completely different. But it will always be right.

The folks in the scriptures today are examples of very human experiences of faith. In the Acts reading, Peter is putting down the people who he derides for having denied Jesus as the Christ, those who are from a long tradition and ancestry, those who did nothing to stop the crucifixion. People who are, if we recall, just like him – this is the same Peter who denied Jesus 3 times before the cock crowed twice. And so his perspective is on that denial, based on his experience. And – alleluia – his perspective is also on the strengthening of faith, and the possibility of salvation for all. For everyone, no matter how heinous their betrayal – himself included. Us included. The promise is there – the invitation is there – we are called through our stories to turn once again to God and seek forgiveness. This promise is continued in the letter of John – sin acts to keep us apart form God, yet we are welcomed back time and again, when we can see and repent from our own sins – when we become witnesses of our own actions and inactions and respond in a Godly manner.

The Gospel shares some odd details that can make us wonder about the writer. This passage comes to us just after Jesus has revealed himself on the road to Emmaus, and now the disciples are sitting in the room, speaking with a newly-appeared Jesus. And to prove that this is not simply an apparition, or a hallucination, the author proves to himself and to us that the physical person of Jesus is there – for only a physical person would ask for food. Especially such specific food. The writer is not simply identifying a shared meal, this event had such an impact on him that the contents of that meal are articulated to share – broiled fish. A sight, scent, taste, texture. Other accounts of this event are not as graphic; this account appeals to the more tactile of believers as a means to strengthen their faith witness. To allow us to be witnesses through the details, to strengthen our faith.

And once our faith has been strengthened by this, we too are called to go out into the world. To see the signs of the risen Christ as they are presented in our daily lives. To report to one another and to the world what we have seen, what we have believed, how we have been convinced to move from being people who doubt to being people who believe. People who believe so strongly that they will be witnesses, of varying degrees and varying perspectives. Witnesses, with minds opened to the scriptures, who have heard the good words: "Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem.”

 I pray we all leave this place into our own Jerusalem, which begins right at these doors, with the excitement of having been called as witnesses to testify. Testify to the risen Christ, the living Christ, the loving Christ. Testify that the Lord is Risen indeed – Alleluia!

Easter 2 sermon

Here we are, the Sunday AFTER Easter. Often called Low Sunday because attendance is lower than last week, the height of the celebration is over, the preacher is usually still a bit tired after last week…

So, with lower attendance and lower energy, what a great time to bring out someone we all know about, someone we don’t necessarily like. Someone who seems to confuse us. Doubting Thomas.

So here’s my question for you this week – have you ever been a Doubting Thomas? Have you ever questioned your faith?

I expect that you have. I expect that somewhere along your faith journey, you have had questions, and queries, and doubts. And perhaps you turned away from the church or even from Christ for a while because of these. Maybe you had these questions and queries and doubts before you wanted to fully give yourself over to being a Christian. Maybe something happened that caused you such grief that you found yourself uncertain. Maybe the logical and rational parts of our brains gave us hesitation about the un-proveable promises that God makes us.

Whenever it was, whatever the circumstances, we’ve all been there. I’d bet we’ve all had a moment, at some point in our lives, where we were a Doubting Thomas. There have been times where the person standing in front of you know was a Doubting Laura Marie.

So when you were the Doubting Thomas, what happened? How did you return to God? How did you set foot in the door of the church again? What was it that made a difference for you, so much so that your faith could be restored?

For me, there was always someone else. Sometimes obvious, sometimes subtle. Sometimes someone I knew well, other times a stranger. But there was always someone – I was never alone in my journey, on my way to belief.

And that is what we celebrate today – the community that we belong to.
We are Christians – Christ followers. Because we believe in God, we try to follow his commandments for us – to love God with all that we are and all that we have; and to love our neighbours as ourselves. We’re assured that on these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets – that is to say, that everything else is dependent on these two rules.

So it would be impossible for us to try and journey along without others from the community. It would be impractical for us to try and be on this route as alone.
We, as Christians, simply cannot be without community. We cannot be SBNRs – (people who identify themselves as “Spiritual But Not Religious”) – because SBNRs don’t gather in community. They try to muddle through their spiritual journey without any help. They have no one to turn to when they have their own Doubting Thomas moments.

The community is important. Our Christian community is there for us, in the good times and in the bad. The community is our strength, our support, our opportunity to give support. It’s our extended family; it’s people that we love, people that we sometimes inadvertently hurt, people who forgive us without our even asking for that forgiveness. It’s the group of people that we surround ourselves with that give us what we need, when we need it. The community are those people that are journeying with us; alongside us, sometimes in front of us to guide, sometimes behind us to be led. But always together.

One of the best things about being part of a Christian community, and celebrating that reality, is knowing that anywhere we are, at any time, in any language, we can join in with any Christian community – and be equally welcomed. And supported, and cared for, and ministered to, and celebrated like a long-lost relative. The Christian community is profound in how it is lived out.

And the community will give us one other very particular thing. It will give us exactly what we need, when we need to have our faith strengthened. When we are having those Doubting Thomas moments, someone from the community will show us some proof of God’s love and grace, some glimpse of the Kingdom. It will be unique, we may not want to see it, we not be ready to see it just at that moment, but God will provide it for us. God gives us what we need for our faith to continue and grow; and God often gives us these things through our community.

Thomas had doubts. He wanted to see the risen Christ in the same way that his friends had. And so, in that community, his need was met – and what a great response – “My Lord and my God!” And his faith was restored.

The sense of community is so powerful in the readings that we have today, that we see extreme examples of living together. The Apostles determined that the best way for them to support one another was to live together and not have common goods, making sure that whoever had need was provided for. This lifestyle is still carried out from time to time in monasteries and convents; there are also less extreme houses where people choose to live in intentional community, sharing space and some belongings while maintaining some personal effects.

The Psalm acknowledges the goodness when community exists in harmony.

We are strengthened in our faith by our involvement in our community. When we share our joys, our struggles, our delight in the Lord – we are sharing the faith, and giving God an opportunity to work through us to give what is needed to whoever is needing it. The letter to John is a declaration of faith – and who knows how many people it has supported in it’s time – who knows how many Doubting Thomases there were that needed to hear those words to bring them back to the light.

Who knows how many Doubting Thomases are among us now who have need to hear the Good News of God. But they are there – and they do need a sign. These signs will, I am certain, come from the community. From us. From our willingness to be boldly Christian as we enter the world, going about our daily lives. God will use as when and how God needs to use us, when we’ll allow it. It may not be what we need, but it will be what God knows needs to be done for another of God’s children.

After all – we’re told that “Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book” – and God is still working His signs through us. These are written in the book, and in our hearts, and in our community – so that we might all pass through our Doubting Thomas moments, to return to the faith with renewed vigour, to proclaim in our hearts “My Lord and my God.”

Easter Sunday Sermon

The tomb is empty.

Not just that it’s been cleaned out, but it is empty. Because the Lord is risen – alleluia!

But the tomb. It’s empty. And it has been for some time, when the women arrive. How do we know this? Well, the stone has been rolled away.

Ah, the stone.

Why is there a stone in front of the tomb? Not so much to keep things in – honestly, there’s not too many people who would be walking out of a tomb after a crucifixion. The body, anointed, wrapped in cloth, laying in the open air – it will be doing what bodies do in tombs, not getting up to walk away. No, the stone is there to keep things out. Things like animals. Grave robbers. &c. The stone is a large, very heavy piece of rock preventing things and people from getting in- it’s a hunk of rock that would be neither easy nor quiet to move – even to roll away. It’s meant to be a semi-permanent obstruction, one that has been put there intentionally by humans who cared for the deceased. To preserve what is, and to prevent change.

And yet, we have the women arrive at the garden, to a tomb that we have heard has never been used before – this means that there’s no chance of someone else opening the tomb to tend to a recently deceased family member. Only Jesus was in there, and he had just been placed in there.

The women are even talking about it as they enter the garden – how on earth are we going to move the stone? It’s nearly impossible! And yet, approaching the new tomb, they see that the stone has been moved. Shocking.

Even more shocking is that the women, upon entering the tomb, discover a young man just sitting there. Waiting for them, it seems. Waiting to give them the good news – that Jesus is not there, He Has Risen! Alleluia!

Now, this would again be quite shocking – a young man who just happens to be sitting in an empty tomb, where the stone is no longer blocking the entry, just waiting to deliver a message. A very particular message, too – there can be no mistaking it, the message specifically identifies Peter and the disciples, concerning a promise made in life, with specific locations mentioned.
New life has been promised. A whole new reality, the mere promise of it feared lost, has been attained. The Christ – the Messiah, God’s Anointed One – has been raised from the dead, as he (and the scriptures) foretold.

Is it any wonder that the women are filled with fear and amazement? Is it any wonder they flee and don’t wish to tell anyone? I’m filled with fear and amazement just reading the words on a page, some 2000 years later.

It defies logic. It defies reason. It defies the laws of physics. Anyone spouting this story today would not be believed.

And that is why the tomb, the empty tomb, matters.

Because God defies logic, and reason, and physics. God is bigger than anything we humans can try to use to understand our lives here on earth.

We, as humans, are constantly trying to make and keep things tidy – our relationships, our points of view, our theology. We want to give things labels, to put them in boxes, to really understand the limitations. We like logic. We like reason. We like physics.

And yet we love the empty tomb. The illogical, unreasonable, and unscientific empty tomb.

Maybe we love it because it defies our neat little structures. Maybe because we use it to remind ourselves how great God is in our lives. Maybe because we use it to remind ourselves of how God breaks our human limitations.

Let’s think about the tomb, and how we represent it at Easter time. (pick up giant papier mache egg)

Eggs. Easter eggs. They’re meant to represent the tomb. Some are pretty, some are plain, some demonstrate that I wasn’t hired for my paper-craft skills. But there you have it. These days, Easter eggs are less and less about decorating real eggs, the process of beginning new life, but rather they seem to focus on sugar content… wandering the stores the other day I saw about a hundred different combinations of chocolate and candy that were being sold. And I wondered how many of the shoppers actually knew that they were buying sugary tombs.

The tomb. A contained space from which new life breaks free. The egg is perfect as a symbol; it’s keeping something inside until it’s ready to come out to the world; it’s keeping it protected. Perfect.

So what if the egg wasn’t perfect? What if the egg never broke open? What then?
Let’s go back to the stone for a moment.

The stone in front of the tomb has been placed there by humans. In this case, however, it’s not just keeping things out, it’s keeping Jesus locked in. nadvertently, by rolling the stone in front of the tomb, the people have acted as though to keep Jesus contained. To prevent the great light from coming into the world. To deny the goodness from emerging. Thank God for the angels who rolled the stone away!

But in our egg analogy, what if WE are the ones inside the egg, waiting for new life? Waiting to break free and live the life that was intended for us? And what if it was, again, human intervention that was keeping us locked away? What if we ourselves were preventing our own new life? If we were so focused on the negatives in our lives that we were keeping that stone as a barricade? None of us is perfect, we all have our faults – we may be impatient, or indifferent, or impolite, or unloving, or use bad language. We may lie, or steal, or cause hurt to others. (writing faults on giant egg) We can become trapped in our own tomb by focusing on the failings that humans – ourselves and others - impose upon us.

But Easter reminds us that whatever our faults, God loves us. God wants us to live in the light, in the world, doing the best that we can and celebrating His love for us. In everything we do, with everyone we encounter. Jesus did not break forth from the tomb of rock so that we might live our lives trapped in the tombs of our own minds.

And so we must break it open. (break egg) Break through the bonds of human understanding – the logical and reasonable – into the Godly space of pure light and life and love. Into the promise of salvation. Into the redemption of divine grace. Into the mercy and perfection which completely rejects the human limitations of logic and reason.

This Easter, let’s open our hearts and minds to God. Let’s allow the divine presence in our lives to break us free from everything that holds us back from the light. Let’s delight in the mystery that has been given to us. Let’s live in the joy of the resurrection.

After all – the tomb is empty. The Lord is risen.

Sermon for Easter Eve

I love a good story. I love reading, and try to do it every day – and I’ll read just about anything – there’s almost always books strewn around my house. Right now you can find a Bible on the couch, a theological study on the kitchen table, some non-fiction on the other couch, and a novel on the nightstand, and several others lying around. I enjoy hearing stories – I listen to books on tape (well, MP3s these days) in the car as I drive. In conversation with friends, we tell stories, or jokes, or just the details of our lives – but stories nonetheless. Even the music we listen to tells a story in it’s own way, from a twangy country-and-western with a wife/dog/truck/house all being taken away, to the stirring strains of a ballet suite where we can visualise dancers rhythmically bringing a tale to life, to a good old Beatles tune that gets our heads bopping to the fun-but-not-always-profound lyrics. Stories are told in art, in nature, everywhere – if only we are open to them.

And I know I’m not the only one who enjoys stories. Many of us gathered here tonight have discussed books, and shared books, and shared book suggestions. We’ve spoken about music and what we like and dislike. We’ve shared jokes and inspirational messages on email and facebook. And we’ve shared of ourselves, telling one another what’s happening in our lives. They are all stories – and we all take part. In the telling, in the listening, in the responding, and sometimes in the re-telling.

So why are these stories important? Why do we continue telling stories?

There are many reasons. Storytelling is intrinsic to most cultures – look at the variety of fairy tales, folk tales, sagas, eddas, &c. that are available. There are books extolling the benefits of telling tales to children – for example, consider Robert Coyles’ short, fun, and practical “Telling Tales.” Stories awaken the child within us all. Stories give us a way to make sense of the world around us, a way to begin to understand the experiences, hardships, and dilemmas that we face. Stories also provide education, through teaching morals, traditions, language, and imagination. Stories bring people together through shared experience or through entertainment. Stories communicate, re-create, commemorate, and preserve history. And stories offer us an opportunity to gain a deeper understanding of one’s experiences and one’s self.

So what makes a GOOD story?

There are several components of a good story. It needs vivid descriptions – not necessarily in the classic European literature kind of way – those folks will give pages and pages of beautiful details of things that don’t pertain to the story – it can be annoying. Trust me – ever read War and Peace? Don Quixote? Les Miserables? Gorgeous literature, some of the best ever written – and some of the longest. The descriptions need to be vivid enough to give us the setting – the where and when that the story is about – in a way that brings them to life in our minds. We also need to know who the story is about – we need characters that we can relate to, folks we like and those we dislike. A good story will also evoke emotions – through suspense or humour, bringing joy or sadness, &c.. A good story will have a flow of narrative that makes us care about the story – otherwise we’ll put down the book, turn off the stereo, interrupt our friends, etc.

And what we have just heard is a story. A long story that covers the entire history of a peoples. Our people – ourselves. We have celebrated the movement from the beginning of creation, through the flight out of Egypt, through many trials and tribulations that people faced over the years. The story shares with us the imagery of an earlier time; we can almost breathe in the lushness of the garden, hear the rain of the flood, feel the dryness of the desert. It brings to us people like us – people who are wandering through their everyday lives as best they can, trying to be as faithful as they can. We can understand the peoples’ relief in deliverance, their fear in times of difficulty, their joy in the promise of salvation.

And we see the thread that has been laid out in front of us – that we have been the chosen people since before we were born. That God’s love and protection has been with our people, our ancestors, for all of eternity. That is what we celebrate this night, as we begin our Easter season. We celebrate the salvation that has been promised to us – and acknowledge that we are opening ourselves to receive it.
Easter is about seeing the light in the world – it’s why we light the new fire this night (though not outside in this weather!), and light the Paschal Candle anew – to remind ourselves of the light of Christ that is active in the world. It’s a recognition of a death to sin and a rising to life – this is why we renew our baptismal vows tonight, reminding ourselves to live these baptismal vows, to live out our faith – at every opportunity.

We are an Easter people – and that means that we are called not only to know the meaning of Easter but to celebrate it in our lives and to share that true God-given joy with the world. We’re challenged to live our lives in such a way that it tells people who we are, and where we’ve come from, and why we live this way. In other words, we’re called to share the story.

So tonight we hear the story. And we hear it just up to the fantastic and mystic moment when the world realises that Jesus is RISEN. The tomb is empty – it’s time to get over our fear and amazement, and to tell the story. We are challenged to tell the history to the people we know, the Peters of the world what we know.

And here is the joy of the story of the empty tomb – it is not the end of the story.

The story, instead, is just beginning a new direction at this point. It will be a story that we know will bring many people to God. It is a story that we know will bring comfort to many people, a story that will bring peace and joy to the world. It is a story that continues.

So tonight I encourage you to consider where this story has been in your life. We each have a faith story, a spiritual journey that has brought us to this point. We each have a reason for being a Christian, a Christ-follower in our daily lives. We each have a reason for being here tonight, for coming out to worship the light in the world.

I encourage you to consider YOUR story – and the impact of Christ in that story. I invite you to think on all the who’s and what’s and when’s that make up your story to this point, to this Easter moment. I invite you to think about where you want the story to go – because God’s story will always go on. I believe that it will go on in and through each of us – I don’t know how, but it will. That’s the beauty of a good story – you never know where it will take you.

So let’s go into the world prepared to write out another chapter of this good news story – a celebration of Christ in our lives which, as yet, remains unwritten.

Sermon for Maundy Thursday

I’ve gotten into the habit of walking these warmer, spring days – when distance permits. If I’m able, I will toss on my comfy (but not really attractive) sandals, and instead of grabbing my car keys I’ll grab a carry bag. And off I go. I’m blessed with the physical capacity to walk, and sufficient energy to do so. I’ve noticed a few things about walking though.

Firstly, I feel better. I can definitely use with a bit more exercise in my life, and this is one way I can get it.

Secondly, I’m chatting with more of my neighbours – even a quick hello in passing is more of a personal connection with folks than I would have had, should I have taken my car.

Thirdly, my feet are getting dirty faster. We have dust and dirt on our roads, and every day when I come home I discover I’ve brought a bunch of it in with me. However, this is not the end of the world – a quick minute with water and a towel and I feel refreshed. And less stinky. Especially before I’m eating – who needs THAT smell before a meal?!

So today, my walk-about was to pick up a few things at the grocery store. No really, just a few things – I had discovered – much to my dismay – that this morning I had run out of 2 of my ‘essential’ foodstuffs – milk, and apples. And I realised as I was in the store – the same local store we often complain about for it’s diminuitive size – and I realised that there was a veritable banquet laid out on the shelves before me. Fresh fruit and vegetables that have been shipped from literally all around the world, locally baked breads and bread goods, more milk products than all of us combined should be consuming in a week, and then the not-so-healthy-but-often-oh-so-tasty pre-packaged stuff… I skipped the junk food aisle altogether – I know my weaknesses!

So there was the banquet laid out in front of me and the other shoppers.

I behaved – I only picked up my milk, my apples, and some tempting seeds for this summer’s garden. But I recognised that, had I wanted to, had I not been walking home, I could have stocked my pantry and fridge with all sorts of nourishing delights. Of course, I was also aware that my pantry and fridge are already home to a number of nourishment delights; I think that helped curb my spending as well.

But what struck me was what I was hearing from some of my fellow shoppers – things that I have heard said before – sometimes from my own lips. “I don’t want to pay THAT much just for fresh fruit.” “There’s not enough variety.” “This isn’t the brand that I want.” Et c., et c.

The food we eat may not be as elegant as we think we deserve, but we are still eating it. And that is truly a blessing, in a world where nearly half the population is undernourished or starving. How often do we complain about the cost of a special diet – lower fat, diabetic-friendly, organic – when there are some who would delight in the scraps we dump in the compost bin.

Our food is not the problem. Our mindsets are.

Instead of celebrating what is before us, we tend to live our lives focusing on what we don’t have, on what we want. This mindset continues throughout our spiritual lives. We are living in a theology of scarcity. And yet, we are not a people suffering physical deprivation – we have a roof overhead, food on our plates, clothing on our bodies, and chances are that we have money either in our pockets or in a bank – or both. And should we not be so profoundly blessed with these necessities, we live in a culture that will help us to have these basic needs met. So too, we do not suffer from a lack of spiritual nourishment; though I think our mindsets sometimes prevent us from receiving it.

And so I think we are called, especially at this time of year, to shift our way of thinking. I think Jesus is calling for us, as his followers, to change ourselves and thereby change the world around us. I think the gospel story tonight is inviting us to turn social convention and societal mindsets on their heads.

Jesus, recognised as the great leader, takes the role of a servant and washes his followers’ feet. Feet that have been walking for a long distance, that are dusty and smelly and normally only ministered to by the lowest of the servants. And yet here the teacher teaches those who would follow him by example. He changes this dirty and demeaning act into a role of care and compassion and humble ministry.

Jesus then sits with his friends for a traditional Passover Meal. The Passover, where the Jewish people commemorate the Exodus story and their liberation from Egyptian oppression. The Passover celebrates not a theology of scarcity, but one of sufficiency. The 12 are invited to see, and so are we in the telling and re-telling of their story, that there is enough. There always has been enough. God has made creation good with enough for all – if only we would see it, believe it, and act accordingly in all of our choices. Throughout history people fall into their theology of scarcity, and we are called time and again, to remember that there is enough for all when we don’t take too much for ourselves.

And then the change comes – the turning things upside down. At the end of the meal, Jesus makes a few simple statements that shift the disciples’ thinking yet again. We now refer to this as the institution of the Lord’s supper, or the communion, the Eucharist. And it is done in thanks – the word Eucharist itself means ‘the great thanksgiving’ and comes from the Greek. Now the traditional Seder, or Passover meal, includes a literal breaking of bread and sharing of wine. But the anamnesis - Jesus’ words over the bread and wine asking his followers to do this in remembrance of him - and the instruction that this communion is to be shared with many – these things change the tradition. Jesus is now confirming his place as leader not just to the few who were gathered together, but for everyone who would gather together in God’s name for the rest of eternity.

And so the mindset changes – this is no longer a night of historical celebration of faith, a Passover for Jesus and the 12. This is a mindset of hospitality, of opening the doors and sharing the resources with the world for all ages. This open table is a radical idea to the disciples, as it can be a radical idea to us today. But it is what we are called to do – to share the profound gifts that God has given us, recognising that the love of neighbour and the love of God are intertwined.

This mindset connecting love of God with love of neighbour challenges us to live out Christ’s mandate – from which we get the mediaeval word ‘Maundy’ – to love one another as He first loved us. This is not a suggestion, this is not an option. We don’t get to choose how or when or who we will love – we are instructed to love everyone just as Christ does. And so again, a turning upside down of the norm – no longer are Jesus’ followers to view people as worthy or unworthy, in or out, but as equally beloved and deserving. Not easy to do in a world that is ready to crucify it’s Lord – not ready in a world that would, to this day, express hatred first.

And so, we are invited to consider our own mindsets. To consider our own understanding of what I means to be leaders – as hierarchical beings or as servants to one another? To consider our own understanding of what it means to be fed in a spiritual sense – as starving beings, as people who have just enough, or as people with such an abundance that they cannot help but to share?

I pray that your mindset will be one of Hope – true hope in the risen Christ. And that everything that you do, from this day forward, will be one of joyful celebration. May we all be so rooted in our faith that we see that we have been given food for our journey; may we recognise the abundant life that has been given for all – in love.