Homily Transcript:  April 5, 2012;                        Maundy Thursday;                                           Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus 12:1-4, 11-14a; Psalm 116:1, 10-17; I Cor. 11:23-26; John 13:1-17, 31b-35

 From John’s gospel, “(Jesus said), ‘I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.’” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 
 
      In this past Sunday’s sermon, I stated that God’s unconditional love is the message of Holy Week. And it is in these next three days - the “Great Triduum"   – the Great Three Days of the Christian year which begin tonight – that we will explore the depths of God’s unconditional love and its difficult call to us. 
 
      Our readings from scripture this evening speak of the Passover meal, the Last Supper, and our Lord’s issuance of a new commandment – a new Mandatum  – a new mandate from which we get the word “Maundy” – a new commandment. And yet, that commandment is not  new, but rather, how we are called to live  it is, indeed, new and it is difficult. 
 
      Millions of Christians around the world this evening have gathered to commemorate the events of our Lord’s Passion.  And yet, when we say that we gather to commemorate these things, this is not simply a remembering of things past, but rather, it is a re-living  of these events. We bring them forward into our present moment as if they are unfolding before our very eyes for the first time. In Greek, this action is called anamnesis  which means to make something a present and living reality. It is how we celebrate the Eucharist each week because our table fellowship together is more than a memorial: it is the sharing of bread and wine in the very presence of Christ who, himself, becomes that bread and wine; and as it is broken for us; we taste and see God’s unconditional love once more.

      This bringing forward into the present is the experience of Jews at every Passover Meal. As we heard from Exodus, the meal is forever consumed in haste recalling how the Hebrew people, dressed and ready to flee from bondage in Egypt, paused to eat what would become a sacred meal and, in the process, were spared from death.  We, too, gather this evening on the occasion of our Lord’s celebration of the Passover feast to share bread and wine that has become the very Body and Blood of Christ who, on this night, offered up his very self for us and the world to spare us from eternal  bondage to sin and eternal  death. Christ himself becomes our Passover feast.  

      I have always found Jesus’ words, “I give you a new commandment” to be a rather puzzling statement because his words are not  something new. Jewish writing for centuries before Christ had stressed that loving neighbor and each other was part and parcel of loving God in accordance with God’s commandments. Where this commandment becomes new is in its understanding that we are to love as “I have loved you ” as “God  has loved you.” A love that is unconditional: in spite of our pathetic shortfalls – the love of God abides forever – it is ours for the taking and embracing. It is a love that always welcomes us home even as prodigals. It is a love that corrects us when in error; a love that chides us to understand that loving each other means feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, giving drink to the thirsty, welcoming the stranger and alien, visiting the prisoners, protecting the oppressed, and giving comfort to the sick. It is a love that is willing to go to the cross and die in order that some might live: it is a sacrificial love that makes no distinction about who is worthy to receive it: it is a love that doesn’t care about your race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, marital or economic status: it is God’s unconditional love and it is wonderful to hear about and yet, so very difficult to live every moment of every day.

      Perhaps that is why Peter had such difficulty with Jesus’ words in tonight’s gospel reading. Peter says, “Lord, you will never  wash my feet.” In other words, “I will not allow you, my master and teacher, to do the work of a slave because it would mean that I have to get off my high horse and recognize that I am no better than anyone else.” In ancient Palestine, it was slaves who washed the feet of others.  Slaves: not co-workers or teachers, masters, or even younger brothers and sisters, but rather, those who were bought and sold; those who were considered less than human; those considered to be the lowest form of life. Jesus demonstrates that true love –God’s love - makes no such distinction: we are called to serve all whom we meet: to wash each other’s feet as Christ has washed ours. And that’s the hard part for us. 

      We are very comfortable sharing bread and wine with each other in the Communion and we embrace that Christ is present in that bread and wine. We come and receive of him and our souls are quickened at every Eucharistic meal and yet, my friends, to turn and stoop down to wash another’s feet is so very difficult for us because it means recognizing that God shows no  partiality: we are all  sinners in God’s sight worthy of death and yet God still loves us. As our opening to tonight’s reading from John’s gospel says, “Having loved his own who were in the world, (Jesus) loved them to the end.” And we, too, are called to love others even to the end as “I have loved you,” as “God” has loved you. 
 
     These next three days are filled with opportunities for personal devotion and congregational gathering to witness to the Christ who died for our sins and the sins of the whole world. And yet, my brothers and sisters, without love – without God’s love in us – our actions over these days become nothing more than an empty re-enactment of something from the past. May God open our hearts and minds to grasp that we are called to love as God loves: A love that hangs forever before us in the symbol of the Cross. And recognize that when we love as God loves, as the song we will sing a few moments says, “God himself is there” present beside us and in us. 
 
      Jesus said, “By this everyone will know you are my disciples;” (Not by your works of power or achievement; not by your pedigree; not by performing great miracles or producing signs and wonders; no.) “By this  everyone will know you are my disciples, if you have love – God’s love – my love – for one another. That is the new commandment we are called to embrace. And we begin to live it this evening with washing one another’s feet.

     May God teach us how to love without condition and, in so doing, teach us that God’s people are servants of all. Amen. 

Sermon Transcript: June 12, 2011 - The Day of Pentecost                                              The Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Acts 2:1-21; Psalm 104:25-35, 37; I Corinthians 12:3b-13; John 20:19-23

 From this morning’s Psalm, “You send forth your Spirit … and so you renew the face of the earth.” I speak to you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 
 
     I will admit to you this morning that one of my favorite television shows is The Golden Girls. The show is about four women: Dorothy, Rose, Blanche and Sophia who agree to live together and share expenses. They are senior citizens, although Blanche typically tries to pass herself off as “in her late thirties.” This zany crew, when faced with a problem, frequently looks to Sophia Petrillo, the most elderly woman among them, for insight and guidance. Sophia, a passionate Sicilian immigrant, usually offers counsel by telling a story about herself. And every story begins the same way: “Picture it; Sicily, 1943” (or “Picture it; Sicily, 1927” or “1935” and so on). Each story weaves back and forth between the past, the present and future and by the time she has finished, the women have somehow connected with the story seeing themselves as a part of it. And in so doing, they find a way to resolve their dilemma. I think it no coincidence that the name Sophia means “wisdom.”

     Today, we celebrate the Day of Pentecost which literally means “the fiftieth day.” Pentecost is celebrated by Jews and Christians alike. For Jews, Pentecost is the fiftieth day after the first day of Passover recalling the Exodus of Israel from out of bondage and slavery in Egypt. For Christians, it is the fiftieth day after the Easter resurrection of Jesus Christ – our own Passover and deliverance from out of bondage and slavery to sin. Pentecost celebrates the fulfillment of Jesus’ promise to send the Holy Spirit to be our advocate, our wisdom, our own “Sophia.” And like Sophia Petrillo’s stories, today’s scripture lessons weave a story of the past, the present, and our future together.

     Picture it: Jerusalem A.D. 33. The disciples have locked themselves away in an upper room. They are terrified and they have good reason to be afraid. Their master, Jesus, from whom all but one of them ran away and abandoned, has been executed by the Romans as a common criminal. It was typical in those days to round up a criminal’s closest friends and execute them as well. So, it’s understandable then why the disciples were fearful for their lives. Our Gospel lesson tells us that Jesus passes through the locked doors and greets these cowering men saying, “Peace be with you.” They think he’s a ghost and they are scared to death. Jesus shows them his wounded hands and side in order to confirm who he is and that he is very much alive. Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, reflecting on this text (Resurrection), says that not only do these wounds affirm that the man standing in front of the disciples is none other than Jesus, but also, his wounds confront them with the evidence of their own cowardice and tacit betrayal, and abandonment of him. The disciples are grief stricken, guilty and fearful and yet, Jesus says to them,“Peace be with you.”