[Propertalk] Maundy Thursday and Great Vigil

[Robert P Morrison]

Here's what I preached from on Thursday evening (I don't think I posted it already) and what I have down for our Great Vigil - which is at 5 am on Sunday. Our Deacon preaches tonight (Good Friday) so I have Easter Day still to do! 8 - )

A contemplative and peaceful Good Friday to you all.

Bob

THE EPISCOPAL PARISH OF ST. JAMES, LINCOLN CITY           MAUNDY THURSDAY RCL 
EXODUS 12:1-14                                   9th APRIL, 2009 
1 CORI NTHIANS 11:23-26                   PSALM 116:1, 10-17 
JOHN 13:1-7, 31b-53 
 
	Ann Fontaine, of Wyoming, asked this morning, “What one act of foot washing will I do today?” 1
	“Father, send us out to do the work you have given us to do,” 
	I was stopped short last Sunday morning during the Prayer of Thanksgiving after we’d all been joined in Communion with God and one another. We’d said to God, “we thank you for feeding us … ; for  assuring us … that we are living members of the Body of your Son, and heirs of your eternal kingdom.” This wasn’t, this isn’t ever, just a casual “Come take a bite of bread and a sip of wine” sort of a deal. This was a REAL meal deal. Last Sunday, after the celebration and the other intense emotions involved in what we were engaged, it seemed the experience of a life-time to come that close to God. Then came these words - “Father, send us out to do the work you have given us to do,” 
	It was like some inner whisper. I’d heard them in all sorts of ways on other occasions. But as we stood, surrounded by Palms, and Sacred Bread and Wine, the way that I was addressed by these words, the way we ALL were, seemed different, somehow. 
	But those moments, as great as they, aren’t frozen in time. Not yet, anyway. We relish them when they occur. Then we move on. The very purpose of that moment is to speak to us and to encourage us for that instant as much as for what lies ahead. 
	Last night, at the Seder dinner, I mentioned that as much as these celebrations bring the past into our living rooms, they’re NOT static. So as old memories are brought to mind, new ones are incorporated. 
	That’s how it was for Jesus and all those who celebrated the gift of life which God had given the Hebrews so long before. They were reliving something that was very dear and important to them. They were remembering when God was so compassionate as to bend down to hear their cries – their earnest desire to be free, to make their own decisions, to have someplace which they could call home. 
	What the disciples packed into that room that night two thousand years ago didn’t realize that they were actually in the Presence of God’s Son. Not JUST freedom, not JUST decision-making ability. God was there in Jesus to walk with them through their day-to-day events, and to help transform the mundane into an act of love and compassion. It wasn’t till that evening had become a memory that this hit home to Jesus’ followers. 
	Now here WE sit. We also are celebrating something dear and important to us. We remember, as has been commanded, the action of taking Bread, Breaking it, and Sharing it. We remember, as has become part of our tradition, the pouring of wine, and the way in which we all share from the One Cup.
	On the whole, we’re pretty good about remembering to make Eucharist – to give thanks. But what of that which framed the gathering and the eating and drinking? Jesus took on Himself the humiliating act of making sure that everyone was comfortable. The writer of the Fourth Gospel was pointing out that Jesus was drawing a comparison between what He did in terms of washing feet and the humiliation of His death. 
	Yes, we remember His death, how incredibly painful and humiliating it was. But how often do we think of the foot-washing? It WAS, actually, a commonplace occurrence. Anyone entering a house would have his feet washed. It was simple courtesy. The strangeness of THAT night was that JESUS did the washing. He didn’t leave it to anyone else. 
	How often do we remember THAT? Nor is it the job of any one person. It’s the ministry assigned to any and every follower of Jesus, a ministry to be performed all day and every day.
                     A friend in Texas wrote about the death of his father last week. At the funeral, the priest said this. 
	“Volumes of books could be written about all the feet that Champe Fitzhugh has washed. He provided books to hundreds and thousands of children through Storybook Christmas. 
	“For years and years, he read weekly to children at Bell’s Hill Elementary School. 
	“He worked tirelessly for education and for making Waco a better place to live. 
	“He was a champion of social justice for all races and colors, way before social justice issues were even cool.”2
	Does this begin to make some sense now? You and I are called to eat with one another, to share in the Body and Blood of Jesus, to BE the Body and Blood of Jesus in and for the world. We’re called to do this, moreover, not only in the places that are well-lit, or sweet smelling, or pleasantly furnished. We’re called to do this everywhere, all the time. We’re to do this in uncommon ways until this becomes common-place. And if we see someone being left out, NOT being made comfortable, we’re to step in. We’re to wash the feet. We’re to sit with the sick person. We’re to come to the defence of whoever’s being maligned or attacked. We’re to respond – whether in person, or by writing an e-mail, or 
arranging for money to be transferred. Whatever it takes – to console a friend whose mother was diagnosed with pre-Alzheimer’s on Tuesday; to find a way to reach out to the families of those killed or injured in Italy this week; to reach out to all the Ali Hamed Ahmeds of the world as they mourn the death of his one-and-a-half year-old son, crushed by the falling roof brought down by a rocket which landed on their home in which they were assured they’d be safe. “His name was Mohammed.” 
	“Ali said to (members of Christian Peacemaking Teams),’We are so glad you came. When I saw you coming, I felt for a moment I had my son back. We feel that no one cares about us.’ 
	The report sent this morning went on, “Another Kurdish friend of ours, Shadan from Kirkuk, who suffered under Saddam, once told me, ‘Even worse than war is being made ashamed of who you are, treated as an inferior in your country.’” 3
	Where are the feet to be washed? 
	The meal is wonderful. The calm, even somber atmosphere can be a blessing. But it must never end here – or, for that matter, after we’ve spent some time before the Altar of Repose. 
                      After the meal, Jesus took everyone out of that “safe house” to be with Him in the beautiful but dangerous garden. 
	Now “Father, send us out to do the work you have given us to do, to love and serve you as faithful witnesses of Christ our Lord.” 
	“What one act of foot washing will I do today?” 

NOTES:
1	Ann Fontaine, Lander, Wyoming  annfontaine at mac.com 
2	“Extraordinary” April 6, 2009 (The Burial of the Dead - Champe Fitzhugh) Romans 8: 31-39 St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Waco, Texas The Rev. Jeff W. Fisher
3	 “IRAQ REFLECTION: His name was Mohammed” by Craig Kite. CPTnet  9 April 2009  See pictures at http://cpt.org/gallery/his-name-was-Mohammed  Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT)  COMMENTS: To ask questions or express concerns, criticisms and affirmations send messages to peacemakers at cpt.org.


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THE EPISCOPAL PARISH OF ST. JAMES, LINCOLN CITY     GREAT VIGIL OF EASTER b RCL 2009 
ROMANS 6:3-11        	           12th APRIL, 2009 
MARK 16:1-8 

	Fear can be SUCH a debilitating force. It can knock from each of us all the common sense we thought we possessed. It can even, for short or long periods of time, block out one’s memories. In situations where fear strikes, your or my whole persona may seem to be changed. “Frozen with Fear” is more than just an alliterative expression.
	Sometimes, we tend to forget how long it took most of Jesus’ friends to understand what He was about. No matter how many times Jesus may have said something, directly or indirectly, about His death and resurrection, it was simply too new to them for them to accept it as anything other than a good tale - if, indeed, they really heard what He was saying.
	This makes the sudden ending of Marks’ Gospel all the more genuine-sounding. Scholars have pored over manuscripts for centuries - almost two millennia - trying to decipher whether or not the Gospel actually ends at verse eight, or if some more verses were lost. Some manuscripts which date from some hundreds of years later than the earliest ones we have of this Gospel DO, indeed, add extra verses. But verse eight’s edge-of-the-cliff ending seems so much more probable. It’s so uncomplimentary. It shows up the first batch of Jesus’ followers in such a poor light that there would be no reason for things to be written quite as drastically if the intent of the author WASN’T to demonstrate how flabbergasted and paralysed everyone was. It was left to Paul and the writers of the other epistles to show and tell how the early followers finally managed to get themselves out of their funk and to pull together what evolved into faith-filled congregations.
	The women were first to go to the tomb. That much puts them ahead of everyone else. They had both the desire, the respect and the nerve to face potential challenge from the Roman guard. But they felt their duty and responsibility to fulfil their religious practices outweighed the potential danger. It was they who went to the tomb, found the door open and heard a message about Jesus’ resurrection. They were told to share the news - but that’s where their fear overwhelmed them.
	I can’t blame them. It’s been a while since I saw a young man in glistening white clothes, maybe a young Morgan Freeman, sitting in a cave, never mind talking to me! The women aren’t condemned. It’s merely a matter of saying that the unknown and the unexpected simply drove out of their minds the ability and the will to talk to Peter and the others. And this is EXACTLY the purpose of the author of this Gospel account. All of this is MUCH too serious to gloss over - the whole idea of arrest, and harassment, and torture, and extraordinarily painful execution; that, followed by an absence of anything physical with which the women could make contact afterwards, that was enough to terrify them. It would terrify even the most sophisticated, or jaundiced, or scientifically skeptical among us today.
	No matter how many TV or film presentations we’ve seen - or how many Stephen King novels we’ve read - we STILL like to have hard evidence. We become very upset when things can’t be sensitorily perceived. When anything threatens to destabilise us we become completely disoriented. We’ll say or do just about anything if such experience goes on long enough. THAT’S why this Gospel, and this ending, is SO important for us. It tells us that our discomfort, our fear, our inability to act rationally, or to respond normally, is the “normal” thing to experience. The sheer panic of the first potential witnesses disenabled them to listen and to process what they heard and saw, because it was completely outside their expectations.
	This makes Mark’s Gospel and the account of the first tomb-visitors so vital for us this morning - the twelfth of April, 2009. Even with a staggering performance by several banks - cynically, we might say because they’ve been given incredible amounts of OUR money to stabilise themselves! Even with a seemingly profitable first quarter, and with a somewhat agreeable performance of the Stock Market through the end of the week; even with that, we’re still like first disciples caught in the headlights. Money; work; relationships; friendships - on whom can we depend for our most basic needs, like a trustworthy and honest advisor; on whom can we depend for sympathetic counsel, someone who can open up resources to put food on the table or manage our bills?
	No matter who we are, we’re all affected by the employment and economic situation of the entire world. We may not like to bring it to our consciousness, but we’re not THAT far removed from being paralysed, whatever the cause.
	This particular Easter Gospel, then, talks boldly to us, firstly to say that we needn’t be uneasy about the fact that we do have fears because of the uncertainty of life. But, secondly, what ISN’T in the Gospel passage speaks volumes too. The Good News comes from such other sources as the first verse read to us from Paul’s letter to the Christians in Rome who were facing terrible anxiety about persecution, about the collapse of their livelihoods and everything that gave them a sense of stability. To them, to us - to ALL God’s people - Paul wrote, “Have you forgotten that when we were baptized into union with Christ Jesus we were baptized into his death?”
	We’re STILL uneasy with this note about death. Not Paul, though. Nor, eventually, the first Christians. The women overcame their fear, and the early Church began to build up confidence in the power of God to help them overcome any sort of reversal in their routines. Although other Gospel accounts tried to smooth over what may have been a bit embarrassing to them, the writer of the first Gospel account of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection felt it was important enough to show how God CAN and WILL give people the ability to overcome adversity of whatever nature. 
	As we sit here in the relative comfort of these wooden pews, with lights and heat around us, we can think back an hour or more to the time when we got out of warm beds, and dressed for protection rather than fashion before getting here to sit in the dark. It hasn’t been that many minutes ago that all we saw was the flickering light of the newly-kindled fire, then a few candles by which we read songs of hope and expectation. Once again, we’ve have acted out of faith that, somehow, God’s power will help us overcome our stiffness, or tiredness, or, perhaps more intimidating, the incredulity of family members or neighbours who can’t believe that anyone in his or her right mind would get up THIS early just to be able to drive through Lincoln City without the possibility of seeing or hitting any other vehicle. Not that I’d recommend it, but this might just be the one time when you could run every light coming through town and not have to worry about being observed, or getting into an accident … remember, you didn’t hear me say that!
	No matter how many times we’ve been to the Great Vigil liturgy, we all have that little residue of uncertainty, though, of worry, about how we’re going to be able to do the respectable thing; perform the duties that enrich our lives and give honour to God and to others. Mark’s cliff-hanging end to the resurrection account, then, speaks to each of us. It assures us that questions, that doubt, that uncertainty - even fear - are normal reactions, and not signs of failures of faith or character. Once again, we hear the good news this morning that God did the “impossible and incomprehensible”. God has the power to transform life. Now we’re told that there IS only one thing that’s inevitable in all of creation - and that is the Love of God which faces up to fear and casts it out.
	The word remains the same, then. No matter what has happened; no matter who may have done what; no matter how we may feel about ourselves and our own behaviour, “Do NOT be alarmed; you (and I) are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; … He is going ahead of you.” It’s as simple as that.
	Thanks be to God! And a nod of the head to Mark and Paul for not being afraid to tell it like it is - AND to those who, today, keep reminding us.


--
Robert P. Morrison
The Episcopal Parish of St James,
PO Box 789
Lincoln City, Oregon, 97367

541-994-2426 (Church)