HOMILY Thursday, April 9, 2020 Canon Clyde Kunz, Licensed Lay Homilist

We live in a world full of symbols and symbolism. Many Americans get a lump in their throat and feel a deep patriotism when they hear the national anthem or see the flag of the United States unfurled. Neither the anthem nor the flag, after all, are the country itself, symbols thereof.

And it was probably several centuries before early Christians started wearing crucifixes around their necks. In the first century of the Common Era, adorning oneself with that Roman instrument of torture would have seemed bizarre, if not downright offensive. But that symbol has come to have great significance for a lot of us. In fact it is hard to find a Christian church that doesn’t feature the symbol of the cross prominently on its exterior as well as in its main worship space.

Symbols in our contemporary world represent all kinds of things: think of corporate like Nike’s “swoosh,” McDonald’s golden arches, or Apple’s – well, apple – symbols that we immediately associate with those companies and their products, even without the names of those companies being printed or said aloud. I mean, Apple the company hasn’t ever sold apples – they sell electronic devices – but when we see that apple logo, we all know what it represents.

Everyone who has ever driven a car recognizes that a bright red octagon means that we are supposed to put our foot on the brake (despite the annoying fact that some don’t always do the right thing and come to a complete stop). And we know that flashing red lights at a railroad crossing mean that a train is coming.

A yellow highway sign with the image of a deer on it clearly symbolizes a location in which wildlife has been known to frequently cross the roadway. And the symbol of a skull and crossbones on the label of a household cleaning product obviously communicates to us that we shouldn’t try to eat what’s inside the package or bottle!

Symbols are everywhere, and they have been a part of humanity for probably as long as humanity has existed.

We see examples of symbolism in our readings this evening. From the book of Exodus the Hebrew people, slaves in the land of Egypt, are told to slaughter a lamb and then use its blood to paint the lintel over the door of their homes. They are promised that by using that particular symbol, God will pass over them and not destroy the firstborn of the family living there. That is where the name “” comes from.

I’m pretty sure that lamb’s blood painted on a doorframe has no miracle saving power. And in today’s world, animal blood might even be seen as having the potential to carry with it some strange disease. Think of the current novel coronavirus, which is believed to have originated in an animal meat-market. But painting lambs’ blood on the frame of the doors at the time of the Exodus was a symbol of something else entirely. A symbol representing the faithfulness of the family living there, and a reminder of God’s protective powers. 1

In our First Corinthians reading we hear those beautiful Eucharistic words, which our history tells us first spoke on this very night: “This is my body that is for you…” and “this cup is the new covenant in my blood.” Any rational person knows that bread isn’t literally anyone’s flesh, any more than a cup of wine is really someone’s blood. They were symbols. Important symbols then just as they are now. Symbols of something far greater than their actual substance, and much, much more meaningful. But symbols nonetheless.

And in our reading this , we hear the familiar story of Jesus wrapping a towel around his waist, pouring water into a basin, and washing His disciples’ feet. We always talk about this as an example of service to others, which is definitely is. And specifically an example to the disciples present that they, like Jesus, are to lower themselves to become servants of all.

But we mustn’t overlook the fact that this simple, humble act – the washing of others’ feet – was symbolic. In the culture of Jesus’ time, a symbol of toward guests visiting one’s home. A symbol of respect, a symbol of kindness, a symbol even of love.

We all know what’s going on in the world around us and the various impositions it has placed on our schedules and in our lives. In this strange and unusual time in which we find ourselves, we were asked – appropriately – not to gather together in our traditional Christian worship, not even on this night reenacting Jesus’ symbolic washing of His disciples’ feet. This Maundy Thursday service and its usual ceremony of foot-washing is a solemn celebration that has always been one of my favorites in the church year.

But tonight we can’t do that, can we? As good citizens and as beloved brothers and sisters to each other, congregating for any purpose – even the symbolic washing of feet – would potentially put others’ wellness, if not the very lives of some, in danger.

Some congregations have gotten around this conundrum by creating of hand-washing, presumably with individual clergy standing a safe six feet from each other, washing their hands ceremoniously over a bowl of water. Others will be seen washing their own feet, rather than others’.

The St. Matthews liturgical team chose not to present that kind of service, as it doesn’t quite hit the mark in terms of exemplifying the kind of humble service-to-others that Jesus was demonstrating that Passover night in .

But let’s think about the act of hand-washing for a moment. Health officials and many political leaders are urging us – as a way of slowing the spread of the current pandemic – to wash our hands, repeatedly, throughout each day, and to sanitize our hands whenever hand-washing is not possible.

Might we consider that hand-washing, in our current cultural circumstance, has become a symbol of service to others, a symbol that we honor each other and that we honor the life and health and wellness of all humanity? Isn’t it – just as Jesus’ washing of the disciples’ feet – a symbol of service – a symbol of love?

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We’ve been told that in order to kill the virus that threatens us, when we wash our hands we should do so for at least 20 seconds. I don’t know about you, but 20 seconds can seem a long, long time. My sister suggested that we should all sing “the Alphabet song” that we all learned as schoolchildren while washing our hands, to make sure we’re going the 20-second distance. Someone else suggested “The Star Spangled Banner” although (since I always struggle with the words) that takes far, far longer than the 20 seconds I’m willing to invest in the process!

I’ve another suggestion which does take about the appropriate amount of time: try saying the Lord’s Prayer while hand washing. It takes just about the right amount of time as the “Alphabet song.” And maybe – just maybe – that symbolic washing of our hands will remind us not only of our civic responsibility, but of its Godly purpose as well – as a symbol of our desire to be of service to others, as a way of keeping them safe, as a means of saving lives, as a demonstration of our love.

This Gospel passage, and in fact much of the , is all about love. Our reading this evening concludes with that familiar passage: “I give you a , that you love one another as I have loved you.” And Jesus reminds us that others will recognize us as His disciples –IF we have love one for another.”

That was Jesus’ commandment, wasn’t it? To love each other. Notice that His commandment was NOT to gather one night each year to wash one another’s feet! While it is nice that we perform this reenactment each in recognition of Christ’s servitude, of His love for His disciples, I suspect that if Jesus wanted us to ritually engage in that same foot-washing every Maundy Thursday, He would have specifically commanded us to do so.

He did not. But what He did command us to do was to love. Simply to love one another.

And today, in our world, one of the greatest acts of love we can participate in is simply washing our hands. But we need to understand it for what it is: a symbol of the love we as Christians are called to share with our friends, our families, our neighbors, and frankly with everyone we encounter in life. And, lest I forget to mention it, that hand-washing can also be a symbol of the love each of us can show for ourselves as well.

So the symbolism of the traditional foot-washing ceremony? Yeah, I miss it. But it will be back, hopefully next year. But in the meantime, realize that it is just that – a symbol. And today we have better and more pressing symbols of love we can participate in.

The foot washing, of course, is really just one important aspect of this night. It was on this night – at the , which was likely a Passover Seder meal – that Jesus introduced the elements of the and associated them with His own sacrifice.

Passover has been celebrated for centuries, even before the time of Jesus, and is at its core a celebration of remembrance. Participants at Passover are called to remember the deliverance of the Jewish people from slavery in Egypt. To remember God’s leading them through the desert into the Promised Land. To remember that they had been called into covenant with God as His chosen people. And the important part of that remembrance is in making it those remembrances present, in making them pertinent to the present day. 3

It was in the context of that Passover – in that celebration of remembrance – that Jesus introduced the Eucharistic meal to His disciples, asking them to consider another kind of remembrance, commanding them to “Do this in remembrance of me.” Given the theme of remembrance associated with the Passover meal with which the disciples would have been hyper-aware, Jesus’ words must have resonated profoundly with them.

In our own practice of celebrating the Eucharist, we too are asked to remember, to recall the events of that Last Supper, to place ourselves in the room in which Jesus Himself was breaking bread and pouring wine.

But after the prayers of remembrance, we say those familiar words: “Therefore let us keep the feast.” We declare that we are willing to bring that remembrance of Jesus’ last supper into the present, to keep the tradition of the Eucharist. To keep the feast. Now. In the present.

In these extraordinary times, we are of course not able to gather in the same space to celebrate a Eucharistic meal. But we can still remember. We can remember a time when partaking of the Eucharist was particularly poignant for us. We can remember the last time we were together, and the celebration of that Eucharistic meal. And – most importantly – we can recall that experience as something that we did together, in remembrance of Jesus.

Symbols are important. Symbols are powerful. None more-so than that bread and wine in which we as Christians partake. And even in the absence of those elements, we are called into remembrance. And as we remember, we should always affirm to ourselves:

“Therefore, let us keep the feast.”

Amen.

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