Maundy Thursday by Rev. Gabrielle Martone at Pearl River United Methodist Church on Thursday 9 April 2020
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... Passover. The Passover of the 10th and final plague on Egypt, in which God said to his people, "Be prepared. Be prepared and feast. Be prepared and trust. Be prepared. Stay home. Be prepared for I am coming." In these days that are so unlike what many of us have ever experienced before, I think the Exodus passage speaks to us anew. I think it speaks to us anew in a multitude of ways because you see, one of the things that I've been meditating on when my own anxiety, and my own worry, and my own fear, and my own doubt threaten to take hold of the serenity I have so tried to cultivate in the middle of this pandemic. I reflect on the Exodus narrative. I reflect on the Israelites, who were born into slavery. And Moses, who comes up out of a dual household, born an Israel, but raised an Egyptian. And I think about the Israelites who watched as Moses performed miracle, after miracle, after miracle, and plague, upon plague, upon plague, ravished Egypt, all waiting for pharaoh to let them go.
And I imagine that your average Israelite didn't really know what was going on. And so as Moses is telling them these instructions, they're told to get a lamb. And there's very specific instructions on how you're supposed to get said lamb, and what you're supposed to do with it. And I can imagine that some people listened to Moses and said, "Does this guy even know what he's talking about? Is this really going to save us? Is it really that big of a deal?" And the Lord says to the Israelites, "Be prepared. Be ready to go, for I will deliver you on this night." And the Israelites luckily do as they are told, and when the angel of darkness comes over the land, the Israelites are spared.
And when it is time, prepared as they are, they all leave and follow Moses. And this is again, where I feel this deep connection to the Israelites, right? So these incredible plagues and miracles have been happening all throughout Egypt. The angel of darkness comes and passes over the houses with the lamb's blood in it. And you would think that the Israelites would be like, "Yes, we definitely believe that this is God." You'd think that at this point they'd probably have it figured out, just maybe a little bit. And they get to the Red Sea and they're behind Moses, and they go, "Yeah, now what?"
Oh, you have little faith who have seen all of these mighty works and you get to one roadblock, and you do not have faith that God will see you even through this. And then God parts the waters, right? And Moses and the Israelites walk across dry land and they make it to the other side. And they watch as the walls that were created, turned back into waves and take out the Egyptian army. And then they're wandering through the wilderness and they're still asking God for more signs because they don't trust in who God says he has been. How many times have you and I in the past few weeks wondered and wrestled, and doubted with God? No matter how many times God has swooped into our lives and saved us, no matter how many times God has promised us that this world is not the end, no matter how many times we gather together at the table and we say to one another, "This is my body and this is my blood, and this is a sign of the new covenant that Christ has made with us so that we might have eternal life."
How many times have we asked God for another sign? I imagine that the Israelites were afraid, and when you are afraid, it is a lot easier to get angry, and frustrated, and annoyed. It's a lot easier to trust yourself than to trust some unknown entity that's doing some unknown thing in the midst of the chaos in the world. What does it look like for you and I to have trust? Because what I am reminded of in the Exodus narrative is that no matter how many times the Israelites mess up, no matter how many times they questioned God, no matter how many times they demand signs or they say to Moses, "Take us back." Or when Moses goes up to Mount Sinai to meet with God and they convince Aaron to create for them a new God, God still delivers them, and God will deliver us too.
It may not look the way we want it to. It may not happen in the way we expect it to, but the promises that God has been making from the very dawn of creation is that God will see us through. In this season, no matter how scared, or frightened, or anxious we are, may we have the faith to say, "We know God will deliver us." And no matter what befalls us, no matter what we face, no matter how many moments of our lives are impacted directly by this particular chaos and crisis, we will trust that God will deliver us. We will trust that God's will will be done today and every day. Amen.
Holy Thursday, Maundy Thursday, has always been one of my favorite services in the Christian calendar. For me, it's always been a symbol and a reminder of what it was like for Jesus to feast with his disciples for one last time. And because communion is probably the most important way that I experience God outside of scripture, I love telling the story again, and again, and again, of who Jesus is and what it means that we celebrate this meal together. As Paul writes in First Corinthians, this is what Jesus tells us, that as he gathered his disciples together, he took bread and he broke it. "This is my body, which has been broken for you. Do this as often as you eat it in remembrance of me." And when the supper was over, Jesus took the cup. And in the same way he said to his disciples, "This is my blood poured out for the new covenant. Do this as often as you drink it in remembrance of me."
Now, in today's day when we have things like the keto diet, and all kinds of people telling us that carbs are terrible for us, even though carbs make you very happy, it is hard for us to imagine how important bread and wine were for the disciples. Bread and wine were the staples that everybody ate all the time, right? And as Jesus gathered his disciples together to remember the Passover, from the same Exodus story that we just read before, when the angel of darkness swept over Egypt and God delivered his people. So in this moment is Jesus fulfilling exactly what had been promised to us since Adam and Eve.
And Jesus does it in an ordinary but extraordinary way. He takes very simple elements, things that you and I have all the time. And the things that the first century Israelites would have had all the time. And as he breaks the bread and he gives it to his disciples and he says, "Take and eat for this is my body, which has been broken for you. This is my body. This is my body that I have put on the line for you, so that you can be saved, so that you can know that you are loved, so that you can know that you are not in this alone." And then he took the cup and he lifted it up and he said, "This is my blood for the new covenant. This is my blood that tells you that your sins have been forgiven. This is my blood that reminds you, and that tells you that there is nothing that you can do in all of this world that will separate you from the love of God." This cup signifies the beginning of a new time, a new era in which Jesus offers the totality of himself for us, so that we may not have a spirit of fear, but one of hope.
I always think about what it must've been like for the disciples to have experienced this dinner. To have sat there and seen Jesus wash their feet and then in the middle, take this bread and break it and be handing it to them and saying, "This is my body, which has been broken for you." And I'm sure more than one of the disciples questioned, "What in the world is he talking about?" God forbid when he picked up the cup and he declared, "This is the blood of the new covenant. This is the blood that rewrites everything else. Once and for all you have been saved." And we gather, we gather together and we celebrate this meal again, and again, and again because every day, every month, every week we have to hear those words again for us, "This is my body, which has been broken for you."
You, who God knows your name and your story and your place in life and all of the ways that you wrestle, and doubt, and are afraid. You, who God knows every thought you have before it even comes out of your mouth. God who loves you, not for the person you wish you were, not for the ways you wished you had it figured out, but for you. Where you are right now, struggling with what you are struggling with, wondering about what all of this means, how can there be goodness in this? You who are in dark and dreary places, seeking to find the light. Jesus takes bread and breaks it and offers it to you.
"This is my body, broken for you. And this is the cup. This is my blood, which has been shed for you for a new covenant. So that you might know this isn't how the world is supposed to be. So you might know that the world is not meant to be rift with violence, and disease, and hatred, and anger. So that you might know that the dark places of who you are do not define you. This is my blood, which fills the broken places and offers you new life." Jesus Christ is our savior, the one who picks us up out of the darkest places of who we are, and dusts us off and breathes life into our dry bones. And says, "Do not be afraid for I am with you. I am with you when you are afraid, and I am with you when you are scared, and I am with you when you are lonely, and I am with you when you are doubting." There is no place that you can go in all of this world and in all of the dark recesses of your mind where God is not already with you. This table, this table reminds us how deep that love runs today and every day. Amen.
When Jesus sat at the table and he washed the feet of those around him and he lifted up the bread and he lifted up the cup, he knew. He knew what would happen. He knew that in a few short hours it would come to pass that Judas had betrayed him for 30 pieces of silver. And after all of the disciples fell asleep in their praying, and Jesus begged for the cup to pass from his lips, but not Jesus' will, but God's will. They would be arrested. He would be tried in the middle of the night, and he would be brought before Pontius Pilate who found no fault with him. But the same crowds that just Sunday screamed, "Hosanna," Hosanna in the highest blessing is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest would scream, "Crucify him and release for us Barabbas, and crucify this man." And Jesus knew as he washed the disciples' feet, and as he lifted up the bread and lifted up the cup, he knew that he would die on a cross like a common state criminal. He knew. He knew That as he gave them the cup and said, "Your sins have been forgiven," he knew.
And I think Jesus always knew. I think Jesus knew for as long as he was conscious of what his mission and his goal and his job was. I think Jesus knew from the very time that the God part of himself, that the fully human, fully God manifested itself in thinking, Jesus knew. And every time Jesus called a lowly fishermen, and every time that Jesus healed the sick, and every time Jesus admonished the chief priest and the scribes, and every time Jesus said, "Your sins have been forgiven," Before he ever healed anyone he knew. He knew. And still, still he lived his life with great selflessness. Still he lived his life for other people. Still he said the greatest thing that you can do is to love God and love each other.
I think many of us toy around with the idea in our heads, "What would we do if we knew?" If we knew that our lives would end at a certain point, how would we live our lives? And I think this COIVD thing makes us all wrestle with our mortality even more so. And the notion of not knowing is clear and in front of our faces. And many of us who have never had to wrestle with our own mortality before are finding ourselves doing it now in the midst of chaos, and anxiety, and uncertainty. And my question to you is, how will you live not knowing? If Jesus could live his life like this knowing how it would end, how will you live your life, not knowing how many days you have, but knowing what comes next? How will you live your life knowing that while we know neither the day, nor the hour, nor the circumstances, we know that at the end of this life, this earthly plane, we have a place in heaven? How will we live our lives?
Will we live our lives hoarding toilet paper? Will we live our lives offering hope, and peace, and love, and joy? Will we live our lives like Jesus did, selfless and offering people fullness? And I know you're sitting there saying, "But I'm not Jesus, Pastor Gabrielle, and therefore I do not have to live like Jesus." But I wonder what it would look like for us to let go of the fear, and the anxiety, and the uncertainty, to give ourselves an opportunity to live the way that Jesus calls us to live. Look, you all know that I am the biggest type A personality. I want to know plans, I want to know what's going on, I don't like surprises, I don't like not knowing what's coming next. My anxiety is often through the roof with this COIVD thing. I get a watery eyes and a runny nose from the allergies that I have been suffering from since I graduated high school, and I'm like, "That's it. I'm dying." And I am convinced that that's the end for me. And I look back and I wonder, did I live the way that Jesus called me to live?
Did I offer hope, and life, and a smile? Did I live my life in a way that if tomorrow or tonight I were to stand before Jesus, would I be proud of the life that I lived? Not that I had it all perfect. Not that I had it all figured out, but that I was striving to do the best in this world. What would we do if we did not know the time, nor the hour, nor the circumstances, but we knew the ending of the story? Look, I have never pastored through a pandemic before. I've never seen the destruction, and the pain, and the agony that this time will inevitably cause now, has caused and will continue to cause. But what I do know is that that table tells me that I don't have to have it figured out. I just have to follow the one who sets it.
I don't have to have everything done perfectly, nor do I have to live in fear, for I know the ending of the story. I know who holds the future. I know who holds the present. I know the promises that have been made to me since the very beginning of time. I know that Jesus loves me. I know that that table reminds me not only am I loved, but the darkest parts of who I am have been forgiven. And no matter what happens in this life, no matter what pain and agony and grief I have here, there'll be a new dawn and a new day in heaven with Jesus. And I know that because God poured God's self out into a human baby. And he lived a life not of power and prestige, not a life of luxury, not a life that many of us would choose, but instead lived a life of authenticity, and lived a life believing the best in people.
And on his last day, gathered his friends around for Passover dinner. And recited the story again of how God saved God's people out of slavery, and added into it the reminder that we have all been enslaved in our flesh. And yet, in Jesus Christ we are delivered. Delivered from the slavery to our own brokenness and the brokenness and the chaos of this world. Delivered out of the darkness and brought into the light. Jesus completes the narrative. On his last day when he could've been doing anything, he brought his disciples together, he brought his friends together, he brought his people together and he washed their feet. He reminded all of them, as he reminds all of us, that this is done for us. This great sacrifice and love is made on our behalf, not because we deserve it, but because the God who is triune, and inherently relationship, loves us. And that while this world may bring its trials, and its grief, and its pain, there's more on the other side. That is the promise we hold onto today, tomorrow and every day. Amen.
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