As this is my first Holy Week in Epping, and indeed my first as a deacon, I am conscious of being on a learning curve.   It is a journey along a familiar path but there are new and surprising discoveries!

In church, in particular, we get so used to the things that we do, it is easy to forget why we do them!  Tradition comes about through repetition.   I am not knocking church tradition, but I find it’s good to remind myself why we do the things we do! 

For instance, why do we call today Maundy Thursday?  I discovered that the word Maundy comes from the Latin expression, mandatum novum, which means “a new commandment”:  so this is a direct reference from John’s gospel account of the Last Supper (which we heard this evening), where Jesus gives a new commandment to his disciples – and by inference, to each of us: “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”. 

The reading that we heard from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, which parallels the institution of the Lord’s Supper in Matthew, Mark and Luke, is of course familiar because every time we receive Holy Communion we hear the words of Jesus said directly to us. 

“Do this in remembrance of me”-  means exactly that:  ‘do this’, means ‘continue it’ – keep up this new tradition.  Jesus calls his disciples – us – to continue what he has established and started – not just the eating of bread and wine, but everything it signifies. 

“In remembrance”, means not the Eucharist or Last Supper itself, but remember what Christ has done, for us – all of it, from his birth to his crucifixion, resurrection and subsequent appearances to his disciples. 

And with this cup of the new covenant, enters a new story, a new relationship, a new promise, a new law, a new commandment:  of love. 

Jesus enables us to remember it still, every time we break bread together.  Such is His extravagant love such as Geoffrey spoke of on Monday evening, when we considered Mary’s act of extravagant love, in anointing Jesus’ feet with costly perfume.  Worship comes before service – and service without worship is of no worth to God.

The foot washing preceding that Maundy new commandment (to love one another) is packed with symbolism.  Foot washing is not generally understood as a sacrament, but rather as a sacramental act.  For John, it is a symbol of humility.  In demeaning himself to wash his disciples’ feet, Jesus is acting out beforehand his humiliation in death, just as Mary acted out beforehand the anointing of his body for burial.  Mary’s action pointed us to worship before service. 

Jesus’ act of foot washing points us to service for others:  his service has him laying down his life for others.  That’s why he can claim that the foot washing is necessary if the disciples are to share in his heritage, and that it will render them clean.  Naturally, they wouldn’t understand this symbolism until after “the hour” is over. 

During one of my residential training for ministry weekends, we had a foot washing exercise.  Not one of my most comfortable moments, I have to say.  I wasn’t sure that I wanted even my closest friend to wash my feet – feet are very personal, aren’t they?  Let’s face it, for most of the time, in this country at any rate, they spend most of the year hidden in outer coverings!  In the summer months we may expose them in sandals, or the like, but not for many weeks of the year. 

I think part of my reluctance to have my feet washed goes back to the time I spent in the Middle East, through most of the 1980’s.  You know when you cross your legs, raise your foot to your knee so that the sole of your foot points outwards?  If you do that to a Muslim brother or sister – if you show them the sole of your foot, it is the height of rudeness.  (This has something to do with the head being considered the holiest part of the body –  or the closest to God up above - which is why Muslim men and women keep theirs covered; conversely, feet are the lowliest, particularly soles which walk the dusty ground.)  So when I lived among them, my enculturation  got me into the habit of keeping my feet to myself and being careful what I did with them! 

The memory of that culture which I slipped into stays with me to this day and I find it offensive if someone points the sole of their foot towards me.  That taught me something of desert culture – which is probably not dissimilar to the desert culture of Jesus’ day.  Feet are a potential source of offence.  Yet, our counter-cultural Lord chose to honour those of his disciples.

It is clear from this evening’s Gospel reading that they found his action most peculiar.  Jesus is the one they revere.  Only servants wash feet.  Why would ‘the teacher’ or ‘the master’ want to wash theirs?  Peter’s objection implies he was embarrassed at his master’s gesture.  What on earth was he up to? 

The clue comes in the verse:  “Having loved his own who were in the world he loved them to the end.”  Or, in another Bible version that I read, “He now showed them the full extent of his love.”  Here we have the reversal of roles which fills the Gospels.  Jesus washes the disciples’ feet.  Instead of being a source of offence, Jesus makes the disciples’ feet, receptors of lavish love.

And I believe there is a link between our readings in the Servers’ role in the Eucharist:  in that moment when he or she takes the lavabo bowl, pours water over the priest’s fingers, and offers the towel.  This potentially highly-charged moment symbolises the foot washing.  (It reminds me of the hymn, “Brother, sister, let me serve you, let me be as Christ to you; pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant too.”)  The distinctive role of the Server demonstrates this.  And all of us need the humility and grace to receive from one another.

But even above all that, this foot washing is a story about Jesus demonstrating to his friends the extent of his love.  And we have the benefit of knowing that this action is simply a precursor to the demonstration of love that is around the corner.  In the cross.

Hanging over the gospels, as over human relationship, is a question mark.  The child asks the father, “How much do you love me?”  Jesus responds in words and actions, “This much”.  Enough to be born beside you.  Enough to heal you, to eat with you, to be angry with you.  Enough to pray for you without ceasing.  Enough to tell you stories over and over again.  Enough to cry over your cities in despair and yet to forgive you everything.  Enough to wash your dusty, weary feet. 

And finally he will stretch his arms out as far as they will go, in a demonstration of suffering and embrace.  “This much”, is his answer.

Jesus here is doing more than giving a lesson in humility, but his disciples would not understand until after “the hour” is over.  So Peter will only see the full depth of Jesus’ humility and love, shown in the foot washing, after he has seen Jesus’ death.  Foot washing – as the disciples’ heritage – is something which makes it possible for them – for us - to have eternal life with Jesus.  Jesus doesn’t want Peter to think the number or extent of the washings will increase his heritage – saved is saved, once and for all!  Peter’s questioning, then, enabled Jesus to explain the necessity of his death - that is for the salvation of all of us.

Jesus washes the feet of all of his disciples, even the ones who are to let him down (Judas was included, don’t forget).  He washes their feet so that they understand they belong with him.  Jesus says to his disciples – to us - in this simple, everyday, ordinary act, “I love you, you belong with me”. 

And that is how Christ comes to us: as the God of heaven, kneeling at our feet, saying to us, “I love you, you belong with me.”  When we grasp this, we can claim the fullness of life that the gospel of Christ offers.  We are loved and we have a person to belong to.  The destiny of all humankind is found in the God who serves us. 

Jesus doesn’t say to us, “What can you do for me today?”  He says to his disciples, “Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s” – you should serve each other. 

The Lord who is prepared to engage in the everyday intimacy of foot washing, who is vulnerable to us and to our needs, who thinks that we are important enough to serve, loves us and gives us life.  So this evening, may we believe this is God’s message for a tired, dusty, world. 

Lord Jesus, we thank you that your love has called us here. 

Amen.