Here is the text of the meditation I shared with those who gathered earlier tonight to participate in the first part of the Easter Triduum: the Mass of the Lord's Supper.
In this church, and in churches around the world this night, God’s people are gathered to remember and to celebrate, but what precisely is it that we remember? What are we here to celebrate? We remember the command spoken by our God to his beloved people, our ancestors in faith, and we celebrate the love of our God, a deep abiding personal love that our God has for each and every one of his disciples.
The Book of Exodus recounts the Lord’s commands spoken to Moses, directions about a special meal which Moses in turn would instruct the Israelites to observe just before they were to leave for the Promised Land. This special meal has come to be known as the Passover, and the directions for its observance are filled with many details: the date when it is to be prepared (Ex 12:3), what food is to be prepared (Ex 12:3-6; 8-11); and even how it is to be cooked (Ex 12:8). While the meal is being consumed, there are even directions given about the signal that should be given to indicate the places where the celebration is taking place (Ex 12:7). Then as now, God knows the needs of his people. He knew that his people were about to set out on a journey, and needed to be sustained and strengthened before they could set out. Every one of us is still on a journey, and our God journeys with us. He provides us with food for our bodies and for our souls, until the day that our journey will be complete.
The scriptures tell us that at the appointed time, God sent his son into the world (cf. Jn 3:16). Jesus tried to teach his disciples about God’s deep abiding love for them. He even modeled it for them in the way he cared for each one of them, even as he was teaching them about the kingdom of heaven, and about the Father. Even when he knew that his time on earth was limited, Jesus continued to teach the disciples. The gospel passage we have heard tonight relates some of the details about a very intimate and personal encounter that Jesus lived with his disciples just hours before he was to suffer and die for us. The meal they shared in that Upper Room has been repeated ever since, and every time it is observed, we take part, in a mystical sense in that very encounter of deep abiding love.
Jesus knew that one of his disciples was about to betray him. God knows the hearts of each one of us who sits at his table. He knows our strengths and our weaknesses (cf. Jn 13:2), and still he welcomes us. Like the meal described by Moses, the meal Jesus shared with his disciples was also deeply ritualistic, and it still holds a sense of mystery for those who participate in its observance today.
Saint Paul reminds us that it was Jesus who, on the night he was betrayed, took a loaf of bread, gave thanks, broke it and said, This is my Body that is for you, do this in remembrance of me. He then took a cup and told his disciples: This cup is the new covenant in my Blood. Do this … in remembrance of me (1 Cor 11:23-26). This is why we bless bread and wine at each Eucharist, but Jesus didn’t only ask his disciples to share physical food, he commanded them to serve one another in his name, and so we too must also serve others out of love.
This was the reason why Jesus got up from the table on the night of the Last Supper, took off his outer robe and tied a towel around himself, poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet (Jn 13:4-5). The act of washing another person’s feet is a gesture of service. It is a demonstration of a willingness to go to any length in order to respond to the needs of our brothers and sisters. Are we willing to serve as Jesus challenges us to serve: he calls us and sometimes places us in situations we ourselves would not choose, but only so that we can be living witnesses of his love as we wash the feet of our brothers and sisters, purely out of love for them.
Are we willing to allow Jesus to wash our feet? It’s hard enough to open ourselves to the possibilities that present themselves when we dare to welcome the challenge to serve; it’s sometimes even more difficult to allow ourselves to be served, even if that service is offered in tenderness and love. There is no room for power and prestige in Jesus’ vision of service; each of us is a disciple, each of us is called to be of service to our brothers and sisters, with no regard for recompense, but purely motivated by love. This is why Jesus told Peter: Unless I wash you, you can have no share with me (Jn 13: 8).
We who are gathered here tonight are no different from the disciples who were there in the Upper Room with Jesus that night. We watch from a distance as Jesus, the one who is our teacher throws off his authority and comes down to our level, even choosing to wash our feet and to tenderly dry them. As we re-enact this gesture of service, let us pray for the humility to allow our feet to be washed, feet that are too often covered in callouses, feet that carry the dirt and grime of everyday life, feet that speak of years of work, feet that reveal the deepest secrets that we choose to keep hidden from everyone else except from Jesus. Let us also pray for the courage to become more like him. If our Lord and Teacher has washed our feet, we also ought to wash one another’s feet (cf Jn 13:14).
An act of love
In this church, and in churches around the world this night, God’s people are gathered to remember and to celebrate, but what precisely is it that we remember? What are we here to celebrate? We remember the command spoken by our God to his beloved people, our ancestors in faith, and we celebrate the love of our God, a deep abiding personal love that our God has for each and every one of his disciples.
The Book of Exodus recounts the Lord’s commands spoken to Moses, directions about a special meal which Moses in turn would instruct the Israelites to observe just before they were to leave for the Promised Land. This special meal has come to be known as the Passover, and the directions for its observance are filled with many details: the date when it is to be prepared (Ex 12:3), what food is to be prepared (Ex 12:3-6; 8-11); and even how it is to be cooked (Ex 12:8). While the meal is being consumed, there are even directions given about the signal that should be given to indicate the places where the celebration is taking place (Ex 12:7). Then as now, God knows the needs of his people. He knew that his people were about to set out on a journey, and needed to be sustained and strengthened before they could set out. Every one of us is still on a journey, and our God journeys with us. He provides us with food for our bodies and for our souls, until the day that our journey will be complete.
The scriptures tell us that at the appointed time, God sent his son into the world (cf. Jn 3:16). Jesus tried to teach his disciples about God’s deep abiding love for them. He even modeled it for them in the way he cared for each one of them, even as he was teaching them about the kingdom of heaven, and about the Father. Even when he knew that his time on earth was limited, Jesus continued to teach the disciples. The gospel passage we have heard tonight relates some of the details about a very intimate and personal encounter that Jesus lived with his disciples just hours before he was to suffer and die for us. The meal they shared in that Upper Room has been repeated ever since, and every time it is observed, we take part, in a mystical sense in that very encounter of deep abiding love.
Jesus knew that one of his disciples was about to betray him. God knows the hearts of each one of us who sits at his table. He knows our strengths and our weaknesses (cf. Jn 13:2), and still he welcomes us. Like the meal described by Moses, the meal Jesus shared with his disciples was also deeply ritualistic, and it still holds a sense of mystery for those who participate in its observance today.
Saint Paul reminds us that it was Jesus who, on the night he was betrayed, took a loaf of bread, gave thanks, broke it and said, This is my Body that is for you, do this in remembrance of me. He then took a cup and told his disciples: This cup is the new covenant in my Blood. Do this … in remembrance of me (1 Cor 11:23-26). This is why we bless bread and wine at each Eucharist, but Jesus didn’t only ask his disciples to share physical food, he commanded them to serve one another in his name, and so we too must also serve others out of love.
This was the reason why Jesus got up from the table on the night of the Last Supper, took off his outer robe and tied a towel around himself, poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet (Jn 13:4-5). The act of washing another person’s feet is a gesture of service. It is a demonstration of a willingness to go to any length in order to respond to the needs of our brothers and sisters. Are we willing to serve as Jesus challenges us to serve: he calls us and sometimes places us in situations we ourselves would not choose, but only so that we can be living witnesses of his love as we wash the feet of our brothers and sisters, purely out of love for them.
Are we willing to allow Jesus to wash our feet? It’s hard enough to open ourselves to the possibilities that present themselves when we dare to welcome the challenge to serve; it’s sometimes even more difficult to allow ourselves to be served, even if that service is offered in tenderness and love. There is no room for power and prestige in Jesus’ vision of service; each of us is a disciple, each of us is called to be of service to our brothers and sisters, with no regard for recompense, but purely motivated by love. This is why Jesus told Peter: Unless I wash you, you can have no share with me (Jn 13: 8).
We who are gathered here tonight are no different from the disciples who were there in the Upper Room with Jesus that night. We watch from a distance as Jesus, the one who is our teacher throws off his authority and comes down to our level, even choosing to wash our feet and to tenderly dry them. As we re-enact this gesture of service, let us pray for the humility to allow our feet to be washed, feet that are too often covered in callouses, feet that carry the dirt and grime of everyday life, feet that speak of years of work, feet that reveal the deepest secrets that we choose to keep hidden from everyone else except from Jesus. Let us also pray for the courage to become more like him. If our Lord and Teacher has washed our feet, we also ought to wash one another’s feet (cf Jn 13:14).
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