A Homily for Maundy Thursday
April 6, 2023
Text: John 13:1-17, 31b-35
God of love, we come to you this night in prayer, and we ask you to draw near to us as we continue our journey through Holy Week. On this night, we especially pray for the will and strength to persevere in our call to walk in love with grace and humility, following the example Jesus has set for us and remembering his commandment to love one another as we have been loved. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
During the Spring semester of my junior year in college, I experienced something at church for the first time that left a lasting impression on my life.
At the time, Chelsea and I had just started attending St. Dunstan’s in Auburn, and we were still in the process of learning about the different customs and traditions of the Episcopal Church. Chelsea grew up Roman Catholic. So, she had a good idea of what to expect.
But, I was brand new and had very little experience with any kind of liturgical worship.
So, I really had no idea what to expect when Holy Week came around in the Spring of 2004.
As a member of the choir at St. Dunstan’s, I knew that Holy Week would involve a lot of extra time at church—probably more than I wanted to spend in the course of a week.
I knew there were special things that would happen during the week that didn’t happen any other time of the year. And, although I didn’t understand how important it was at the time, I could sense that it was a really big deal.
A lot of time and energy were put into planning and preparing for those services.
So, by the time Palm Sunday rolled around, I thought I was ready for what was about to happen, but as it turned out, I had no idea how impactful my first journey through Holy Week would be.
On Palm Sunday, we remembered the events of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, waving palm branches and processing inside the church. Then, the mood of that service quickly changed from one of celebration and excitement to one of deep sadness as we heard the story of our Lord’s Passion and death retold.
The week continued on.
On Wednesday night, we gathered around a large table in the Nave of the church and shared a Seder meal—the traditional meal served in Jewish households during the festival of Passover. For Christians, this is also where we trace the origins of the meal we share around the Lord’s Table when we celebrate the Eucharist each week. It’s believed by many that the Passover meal—or Seder, as it was later called—was the meal Jesus shared with his disciples on the night before he died.
Then we came to Maundy Thursday, and I experienced something that night in worship that’s remained with me ever since.
The word “maundy” comes from the Latin word, mandatum, which means “commandment,” and the reason why we call Thursday in Holy Week “Maundy Thursday” is because this is the night when we remember the final moments Jesus shared with his disciples in the Upper Room before he was betrayed and handed over to the authorities.
This is the night when Jesus got up from the dinner table after supper, tied a towel around his waist, poured water into a basin, and began washing the feet of his disciples—an act of lowly service that would’ve normally been done by disciples for their Master, not the other way around.
This is the night when Jesus gave his disciples one final commandment. “Love one another,” Jesus said. “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.”
It’s a tradition in many Episcopal parishes during the service for Maundy Thursday to remember Jesus’ commandment to all of us by participating in the washing of feet.
And on that night, back in 2004, in the chapel at St. Dunstan’s, I had my feet washed in church for the very first time.
I don’t remember all of the specific details, but I do remember that, when we came to that point in the service, I got up from my seat, removed my socks and shoes, and walked to the front of the church where there were two stations set up for the foot-washing.
I sat down in front of Leigh Warren, the wife of Father Wells—the priest at St. Dunstan’s. She took my bare feet and gently washed them with warm water from a pitcher, dried them with a clean towel, and then went a step further by anointing them with oil.
She took her time, and there was a tenderness in the way she washed my feet.
Now, I’m not going to lie and pretend that I was perfectly comfortable having my feet washed by someone I barely knew at the time.
But, the image of that moment has lingered with me all these years because in that moment of having my feet washed, I experienced a small glimpse of what it means to love others with the heart of a servant, which is exactly what we’re called to do as followers of Jesus.
In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus says to his disciples, “Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”
There’s a reason why I wanted to share this story with you tonight.
And that’s because in a few moments, I’m going to invite you to come forward to have your feet washed as an outward and visible sign of God’s love and a reminder of the kind of love we are called to share with others.
If you’ve had your feet washed in church before, you already know what to expect.
But, if you’ve never done this before, I want to put your mind at ease.
There’s nothing to worry about, and if you decide not to participate, there’s no shame in that at all.
But, if you do decide to participate, I’ll ask you to remove your socks and shoes before coming forward, one at a time, to have your feet washed.
We’ll start with the choir, and then anyone in the congregation is welcome to come forward.
You’ll sit in the chair in front of me, and I’ll kneel down and wash your feet. And once I’m done, you’ll return to your seat, and the next person can come forward and sit down.
We’re going to take our time with this.
Because this is holy time.
It’s a time for us to remember who we are as the Body of Christ and what God has called us to do in our lives. It’s a time for us to remember the sacred story and to find our place in it.
Whether or not you come forward for foot-washing, I invite you to use this time to reflect on the Gospel passage for this evening and imagine what it must’ve been like for Jesus’ disciples on that last night before he was handed over to be crucified.
Imagine the tender love Jesus shared with his disciples as he washed their feet—the care and attention he gave to each one of them.
And then remember that it’s with the same care and attention that Jesus loves each of us, more than we can possibly imagine. Amen.
The Rev. Eric Mancil 