John 13:1 Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. 2 The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper 3 Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, 4 got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. 5 Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. 6 He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, "Lord, are you going to wash my feet?" 7 Jesus answered, "You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand." 8 Peter said to him, "You will never wash my feet." Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no share with me." 9 Simon Peter said to him, "Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!" 10 Jesus said to him, "One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you." 11 For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, "Not all of you are clean." 12 After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, "Do you know what I have done to you? 13 You call me Teacher and Lord-- and you are right, for that is what I am. 14 So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. 15 For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. 16 Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. 17 If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.... 31b Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. 32 If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. 33 Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, 'Where I am going, you cannot come.' 34 I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. 35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."
An Incomplete Picture
“For as often as we eat of this bread, and drink from this cup, we proclaim the Lord’s Death until he comes.” This quote from 1 Corinthians 11 is spoken or chanted at every worship service in my congregation, inviting the congregation to respond, shouting, “Christ has died, Christ is Risen, Christ will come again.” We do it every week. But few likely stop to think how jarring those words are. What does it mean to “proclaim the Lord’s death?” How does such a statement invite the congregation to shout out the Lord’s death and resurrection? What is it about the communion meal that such words surround and infuse it with meaning far removed from our cultural expectations?
Some, like the somber people of Jutland in Isak Dinesen’s short story “Babette’s Feast” take this to mean that all pleasure, anything but suffering and pain, are to be stripped of meaning. Surely one look at modern Lutherans as they march solemnly to the communion table informs us that we have not journeyed far, most of us. From the pastor’s side of the assembly the worshipers in my congregation look like they are in pain coming to communion, or at least in shame. Their eyes are averted. Their lips are pursed, the corners of their mouths level, if not turned down. Their countenances dour, for the most part. (Mind you, this is not true in all of the faces, nor is it the norm in all congregations, but it is true enough to note.) The people have been taught so. Reverence and decorum require that downcast disposition, if not of life, then at least of this meal. They have “the Lord’s death” part down. It is the joy at his coming that they don’t seem to grasp. It is the life of Christ, flowing from the cross for the sake of the world, the life of the community full of hope and expectation that seems to be lacking. The meal becomes a funeral under the weight of such attitudes. We become mourners, but in some sense it is our funeral too.
But this is not the complete picture of what this meal is and what it does. It leaves us focused on grief and death. But neither is the opposite a complete picture. The modern pious reaction to pious morbidity is to proclaim a life without death, grief or end. To jump to Easter without participating in the death of Christ. This is “feel good” but hardly honest. It leads us further and faster down the path that encounters meaninglessness in death and feels betrayed by the denial and the lifelessness of our culture’s false promises. Both incomplete pictures of the drama are alive and well, both in the church and outside, but in Lutheranism and beyond. It is a human thing that idolized death, whether embracing it or denying it.
We do not face the reality of God’s gift, in the depth of its sacrifice nor the joy of its love as described in the Maundy Thursday hymn by Moises Andrade, “When Twilight Comes”:
“When twilight comes and the sun sets,
mother hen prepares for night’s rest.
As her brood shelters under her wings
she gives the love of God to her nest.
Oh! what joy to feel her warm heartbeat
and be near her all night long;
so the young can find repose,
then renew tomorrow’s song.”
The Life-giving Meal of Death
The premise of the above mentioned story, “Babette’s Feast” is a simple one. A poor Danish community has lived in the shadow of death under the teachings of their now departed pastor, whose work of simple charity is carried on by his unmarried daughters, Martina and Phillipe. Into this world crashes a French woman, Babette, who has been made homeless by the revolution in France. The sisters take her in and she uses her skill as a chef to make the ministrations of food delivered to the community’s poor a little tastier. Though the “spice” that is added to the food is considered by the community to be naughty, if not sinful, still all give thanks (and even smile) for Babette’s presence.
Then news comes that Babette has won the Lottery in France, a large sum of money. The community fears that she will leave them, fears that mount as Babette announces that she will make a Feast for the small gathering. The simple folk are aghast as they see the exotic pheasants, turtles, not to mention the wine, all for the coming feast. They do not want to be impolite, but are afraid they will be possessed by some demon if they partake in the feast. Unaware, Babette prepares and serves the finest meal they will ever eat. And the meal transforms them. Their bitter disputes and long secret indiscretions dissolve into the peace and harmony of God’s future kingdom, evidenced as they finally leave the meal singing a hymn of praise and faith in that future.
But the prospect of Babette leaving the community with her newly acquired wealth still looms, In fact it is now more bitter, since her gift of the meal. So the sisters approach her and ask her about it. Babette then confesses that she has spent the entire fortune on the one evening meal, so she will continue to stay and serve the community. It is then that you realize the extraordinary gift of grace that is the center of the story. It was not about money, it was about Babette’s gift of self in joy and freedom, about her being a servant, and yet finding the fullness of her humanity in that servanthood. My thoughts flew immediately to Jesus gift of washing feet for the disciples. On this night when he would give himself over to ultimate servanthood, he takes a moment to teach his disciples, to teach all of us, really, about how we also will find ourselves fully human, and fully embraced by God as we take the servant role, as he did. Again, from the words of Andrade’s hymn:
“One day the Rabbi, Lord Jesus
call the twelve to share his last meal.
As the hen tends her young, so for them
he spent himself to seek and to heal.
Oh! what joy to be with Christ Jesus,
hear his voice, oh! sheer delight,
and receive his servant care:
all before the coming night.”
The Meal that Shapes Us
I am currently teaching a class for my Adults on Worship, in preparation for the coming new Hymnal resource of our denomination. We are trying to help our people come to some expanded understandings of worship, especially of Communion and what it is about. Martin Luther was reacting to the absence of grace and the need for people to understand the free gift of forgiveness in the sacraments when he wrote his small catechism. He was right there, to emphasize these things in his writings, for his time and ours. But we dare not stop there. We dare not make this meal into the personal pietistic feast of our individual forgiveness. That is why I am thankful for new thoughts and teach them when I can. This one is not new, but for many it will be heard afresh as they expand their understandings.
Communion, understood in the context of Jesus washing the disciples’ feet, is a meal that exemplifies the statement, “you are what you eat.” Though in this case it might be “you become what you eat.” And by you, I don’t mean individuals, I mean the gathered community. We are the body of Christ, the Church. The meal of communion serves to shape us into the very thing that God has called us together to be. As we share in this meal we become the sign of God’s presence in the world. And that presence is a serving presence. We are fed and strengthened here to be sent into the world in mission to the poor, the outcast, the lowly. We are not sent in some patriarchal way, as if we have the goods and we are kind enough to share them with the lowly (how patronizing). But instead we are sent as lowly among the lowly. As washers of feet, we do the dirty jobs reserved for the lowest classes of people. We spend ourselves and in the process we too discover what it means to be fully human. It is this meal, this event that shapes us just this way.
Jesus is right to tell Peter that if he doesn’t participate in the washing he won’t get it. We would do well to heed these words. When we understand that the Lord of all dares to strip it all off to wash us, to feed us, to spend his life for us, then we, who dare to call ourselves his followers, find our faith leading us to do the same. For faith means no more nor less than trusting Jesus’ way of being in the world. On this night, that way becomes crystal clear. Our journey will lead us to this meal of life-giving death. We too will journey to the cross on Friday, through the holy mystery of Saturday, and to life on Easter Sunday. And the first step of that journey is a bowl of water and a towel, a bit of bread, and a sip of wine. Once again, Andrade:
“So gather ‘round once again, friends,
touched by fading glow of sun’s gold,
and recount all our frail human hopes:
the dreams of young and stories of old.
Oh! what joy to pray close together,
kneeling as one family,
by a mother’s love embraced
in the blessed Trinity.”
- Hymn quotations from “When Twilight Comes” by Moises Andrade, tr James Minchin. From With One Voice, Augsburg Fortress, 1995.
Rev. Dr. Luke Bouman
Tree of Life Lutheran Chruch
Conroe, TX
lbouman@treeoflifelutheran.org