Washing Feet

As Canon to the Ordinary in our Diocese, I get around. One week I’m out in Williamstown for a Mutual Ministry Review and the next week I’m at a Celebration of New Ministry in North Brookfield and then I’m north to Leominister to begin a search process following the retirement of a long-time rector. 

What brings me to Ware tonight?  As you know, your rector is on family leave. I’m glad to be here with you this holy week, and I look forward to Easter morning with you all.  

In all my travels, I have yet to be in a single congregation in this diocese that has said to me, “we are not very friendly. We just don’t like new people, and we need to work on that.” They all say they are friendly. Many say they are “just like a family.”

I always find that simile of family to be a loaded one, however. Families are complicated. Jesus himself did use that language to describe his followers, but as you may recall, when he did that he was kind of dissing his biological family. At their best, families are where we get to be really ourselves. Not always our best selves, either. Families have history. Families have insiders and newcomers; the newcomers are called in-laws. And sometimes families have falling outs – people don’t speak to each other for years. Perhaps some of you have first-hand experience with that.

The biggest part of my job is to work with congregations in transition, looking for new clergy. It’s a rewarding and joy-filled ministry. I love it when congregations identify a path – the path they have discerned God is calling them to follow. And then they find a priest who has the gifts to help them to move that way. And everyone is so happy and excited.

But there is also a part of my job that includes dealing with disappointment and even failure, when things go off the rails. And conflict, as people try to deal with the gap between expectations and reality. I see in those moments the opportunity to move from pseudo community – fake community – to real community. To authentic community. And I think that language of community is more helpful than family.

How do we get there? We get there by the Way of Love. We get there through honest communication. We get there through the challenging work of reconciliation, and healing, and forgiveness. We get there, in short, the same way that families do. By hanging in there. By loving one another. By going to counseling if we need to do that. By doing what it takes.

What I find, however – and I need to be honest with you about this, Trinity. I find that sometimes when people find that a congregation disappoints them because it’s not like the Brady Bunch and because everything isn’t resolved and tied up in a bow as quickly as it takes to watch a half-hour sitcom, that people leave congregations. They get hurt or disappointed and they take their pledge and they are gone. Never to be seen again, except maybe in the produce aisle by a vestry member where they are happy to share how they had their heart broken. And I admit to you, this is the part about congregations that breaks my heart – both when I was a parish priest and now in diocesan ministry.

In one of his most powerful and memorable stories, Jesus spoke about a kid who left home and was too young or too immature or maybe just too unlucky. He got into trouble and lost everything and then had to pick himself up and head home where his dad scolded and chastised him and reminded him that this never would have happened if he’d only been a more dutiful son. You remember that story?

That is not how it goes, of course. Even if we are more familiar with that ending in our own experiences of families. The story Jesus told has the dad running out with open arms to welcome his son who was lost and has now been found. Jesus’ story ends up with veal piccata for everyone. At least for everyone who wants to come in and join the party. The story remains open in terms of the older brother who isn’t sure that’s quite fair and isn’t quite sure he wants veal piccata if he has to share it with that brother of his at the same table.

So, why are we here tonight? Does it have anything at all to do with this rather lengthy intro? This day – Maundy Thursday - takes its name from today’s Gospel reading. Jesus gives the Church a mandatum novum: a new commandment. Maundatum – like the word “mandate.” That’s the thing about English – a lot of word roots from other languages, especially Latin. Jesus isn’t making a suggestion. Actually, it’s not even really new, because it’s rooted in the Torah, rooted in the core meaning of the Ten Commandments. Previously Jesus got the ten down to two: love God, love neighbor. Who is neighbor? Oh yeah, it’s everybody. No exceptions.

On the last night of Jesus’ life he gets it down to one word: love. Our Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry, likes to say “if it’s not about love, it’s not about God.” He preaches again and again on the Way of Love. It seems like that is really simple. Except you all know and hear all those false teachers out there who try, in the name of Jesus, to get people to hate those whom they hate. Or maybe more accurately, to fear those whom they fear. Love one another, Jesus says to us on this first night of these three holiest of days. Love as I have loved you. A mandatum novum. A new mandate.

Now, I’ve known you all for a while. I know this is a great congregation and I know that you are with me on all of this. I know you love one another, not superficially, but really. Like a family in all of that complexity and ambiguity and pain and joy. And I know that you show that love for your neighbor. I’ve witnessed it first-hand next door. I know you get this new commandment and take it seriously and that you are living the way of love, one day at a time. With God’s help.

But I’d be remiss if I sat down now. I want to say one more thing to you. But first I want to make a confession. I was, not too long ago, at a gathering for denominational leaders across the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. I was sitting next to our bishop, Doug. There were other leaders there, too. The United Methodist bishop and members of his cabinet. The Methodists are really hurting these days as some of you may know. The conference minister of the United Church of Christ and they are trying to bring together the conferences of Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island. That represents a lot of change.  The Lutherans didn’t make it this year, but they were there last time around. Presbyterians. American Baptists. Eighteen of us at tables like a U. You get this image?

And our theme was about getting stuck in the mud. And our conference leader had put some clay on the tables, for each of us to mold. Here is the confession time: the bishop and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes. Well maybe I rolled my eyes and he smiled. But I know he was thinking the same thing. We aren’t clay guys. We like baseball. We root for opposite teams, but we like sports. And we like serious conversations. But playing in the mud? That’s not our thing.

But we are also both obedient rule followers so we did as we were asked. We worked with our hands and so did our colleagues. And I was reminded once again that there is something really important about letting go and getting out of one’s head and being in touch, not just intellectually but in a tactile way, with the kinds of things that Sunday School kids might do. It’s actually very helpful. It opens some things up. That’s what it was, after all: like a Sunday School activity.

But maybe everything we need to know about the good news of Jesus Christ, we learned in Sunday School. So, Trinity, bear with me because I’m almost there. You ready?

I’ve been washing feet on this night for thirty years now. I’ve heard it is not the favorite thing of some of you. In fact when I got the email from your parish secretary about tonight she asked me if I was doing this or “the regular.” I told her this is the regular! And that Mary and I had talked about me doing this.

I know some of you don’t like this. That’s ok – it’s something, I would suggest, like me and our bishop with the clay. And I told you that story so you don’t think I’m trying to shame or embarrass anyone. I told you that story because I know that feeling of inner resistance.

But I’ll also tell you this after three decades of doing this: washing kids’ feet is really fun. They have no inhibitions. As with playdough or mud, they don’t get pedicures before church. They just come. I had one kid, one time in Holden, who came right from soccer practice with dirty feet. Took off his shoes and muddy socks and I washed his feet. It was awesome. His mother was mortified. I’m sure the older lady who followed him was a little mortified too. But it was real. Just like a family.

Adults can come up with all kinds of reasons to sit in the pews. You have heard a sermon tonight; I hope a decent one and I’m almost done. I’ll quiz you on Sunday to see if you heard it right. So here’s the review: Maundatum novum – a new commandment. Love one another. Just like Michael Curry preaches. Follow the way of love. Become like a family, a real messy family. Just like Jesus taught us – a community of people who seek to do the will of God and who know that the waters of Baptism are thicker than blood. Work at becoming followers of Jesus…

But if you stay put during the next part of this liturgy then I will wonder if you heard a single word I said. Just like I imagine that Jesus felt when Peter said, “um…no thanks.” So I want to encourage you, as Jesus encouraged Peter. Move through your resistance and listen to that inner ten year old. I don’t want to let you off the hook too easily. I trust you enough to tell you that this matters.

The foot-washing is an object lesson in love and vulnerability and being servants to one another. It’s not theoretical. Kids get it. Adults too often resist. We think our feet are too ugly or too smelly or that this is just too weird. I get all of that. And even so, I invite you to put this act at the heart of your life together. Not just this year but next year when it becomes the new normal. The regular. Because both washing feet and having your feet washed makes it all real. 

You could even say that Jesus whole ministry, focused on the way of love, all comes down to this final gift to the Church on the last night of his earthly love.