Maundy Thursday 2024
This talk was written for our Maundy Thursday service on 28th March 2024. I hope you enjoy reading it.
Let’s face it – at this time of year, there’s enough confusion about how on earth anyone could name the events that we remember and commemorate tomorrow ‘Good’ to fill all your time during Lent and Easter to not even think about the name that we give to today.
But today is not – as I’m sure you all know – Maunday Thursday. It is Maundy Thursday. And that – believe it or not – actually makes all the difference.
The word ‘maundy’ comes from (as many things in the Church do) Latin. It’s from the word mandatum, meaning commandment. And that’s what today is all about – the new commandment.
“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.”
And that’s all well and good. I think we can get on board with loving each other. Oh; I’m not saying it isn’t hard, but I think we all understand and agree with that commandment. We know that God is love, after all, and that God loves the world – so much. And if we’re going to try to be like God, and try to be his hands and his feet and his voice in this world, we need to love. We need to at least try to.
But that’s not the whole of that commandment. Jesus doesn’t stop after he says his disciples should love one another. He contexts it – love one another; Just like I Love You.
This isn’t about the world. It’s not about the person in the pew in front of you. It’s About You.
God
Loves
You
But he doesn’t love me. Not really. He can’t, because he knows every little part of me. He sees past the face I put on and the words I say with my mouth, and the things I hide. He sees my heart. And he sees me when no-one else does. He sees me when I’m the worst person I can be, when I’m the epitome of selfishness and when I hate, and when I use people, and when I just don’t care anymore – all before I put on my disguise and tie up my boots and come to church to try to maybe earn a little bit of forgiveness. To try to earn a tiny amount of grace and mercy from a God who could never really love me.
And then, whilst I’m here at church, trying to do just that; preparing to take communion, celebrating that last supper, I hear him say “one of you will betray me”. And I – and we all – look around the room, asking ‘Who will it be? Who will it be?” all the while, knowing deep down, that – of course – it will be me. I’m the one who’s just playing at this. God sees, and one day I’ll be caught out.
And then, he looks at me, and walks over. And I know it’s all over. Because he knows. I know he knows. And it’s unbearable.
And he bends down. And he slowly starts to untie my boot that I’ve tied up so tight. And he takes it off, and he gently washes my foot.
And no – he can’t! I have not prepared myself for this! If I knew Christ were going to wash my feet, I’d have made them presentable first. I am not fit for this.
But he does. And he does know. But still, he continues gently to hold the parts of me that I’d tried so hard to hide, and he washes me clean.
“Love one another,” he says, “Just like I love you.”
And this is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us. This is a love that could never be earned. This is a love that is freely given. A love that recognises everything within us, and loves all the stronger.
At the end of the service tonight we strip the church of all its ornaments and finery in preparation for the events of tomorrow. What’s left is bare. What is left are those things we cover up. What is left is the Church in all its nakedness.
But what is also left is the love of Christ. For You.
This is the meaning of tonight. This is what Maundy Thursday is all about.
When all is stripped away, and we are laid bare before our God, he gently takes our feet in his hands and tells us that we are deeply, deeply loved. And when there is nothing left in this church but us and God’s love for us, then it is time to live out that new commandment. Love one another, just as I have loved you.
Amen
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