MAUNDY THURSDAY - Exodus 12:1-14a; Psalm 78:14-20, 23-25; 1 Corinthians 11:23-32; John 13:1-15 - 5 April 2007 - A sermon preached by The Rev. Peter A. Munson for St. Ambrose Episcopal Church, Boulder, Colorado

 

Wanting a Sign

 

RUNNING AND SIGNS

 

My son, Zach, has tried his hand at running this spring. He sees it as a way to stay in shape for hockey, mostly, which is fine. But he’s not exactly an enthusiast. “Dad, how can anyone enjoy running? There’s nothing fun about it!” I try to tell him that as he progresses, he might experience that thing called the “runner’s high”. He looks at me very skeptically.

 

Sometimes running is a pain for me more than a joy, especially when training for a race. I think of running hills or running intervals, and there is big part of me that says, “Why am I doing this?” But sometimes there is pure joy, and sometimes it has very little to do with running, and a whole lot to do with what I see when I’m out there.

 

A week ago I was running not too far from my house. (I never manage to run that far away from my house, come to think of it.) There is a trail that runs along the Farmers’ Irrigation Canal, over behind Standley Lake Library. I was opposite the library, running with Sophie, and glanced over at the canal. There, swimming side by side, in this six-foot-wide ditch, were... wait, am I seeing things? No, those are way bigger than muskrats. Yup, it was two beavers. I stopped and watched them for a while. Sophie didn’t even see them. (Probably a good thing.) They’d disappear under the water for ten seconds, then pop up somewhere else. First time I’ve ever seen a beaver, much less two, in an irrigation ditch!

 

Yesterday I was out running with Sophie again. This young playful dog saw us and ran over and started jumping all over Sophie. After that episode ended, we started running again, and on the other side of the same irrigation canal, I detected some movement out of the corner of my eye. There is was, trotting away from us, toward some nearby horses. A beautiful coyote. Not the first time I’ve seen one of those in the area. But still, it was great. Such a beautiful animal.

 

I’m not sure I can put into words what seeing these kinds of animals does for me when I’m out on a run. Is God just trying to give me a breather because I need one? No, it’s more than that. It’s more like a sign. A sign that there is more going on in this world than whatever I might be concerned with at that moment. A sign that I am not so far away from wild things as living in suburbia might suggest. More than anything, I consider these little encounters as a sign of God’s grace, a sign that God is with us. What happened on those runs didn’t have to happen. But it did. And it happens more often than you’d think it would. And when it happens, on some level, my whole body says, “Thank you, Lord!” And the rest of my run is a lot easier.

 

A NIGHT OF SIGNS

 

I think, as human beings, that we long for signs of God’s presence. We need these signs.

We want assurance, or reassurance, that God is with us. We want a message from God that reminds us of what life is about, of what is really important.

 

This is one of the most dramatic nights of the church year - maybe the most dramatic night, because we remember it and observe it as Jesus’ last night on earth. I guess only Christmas Eve - anticipating Jesus’ imminent birth - and this coming Saturday night, when we anticipate our Lord’s resurrection, rival it. Tonight is a wild and dramatic night because there are so many powerful images, there are so many signs.

 

There is a reflection back on that first Passover meal, and the recalling of the salvation event in Jewish history, and the image of the Jews eating it hurriedly, ready to flee out of Egypt as the angel of death passed over their houses. They certainly experienced God with them, as He passed over their houses, and as they went through the Red Sea on dry land. And as Jews share the Passover meal again this week, and pass this story on to their children, they also feel the presence of God with them - now, today.

 

On this night, we are also reminded of Jesus’ last supper with his disciples. We hear the familiar words he said over the bread: “This is my body that is for you.” And the familiar words said over the cup of wine: “This cup is the new covenant in my blood.” And with the bread and the wine, we hear, “Do this in remembrance of me.”

 

There is something so powerful in this meal we share called Holy Communion. The signs are right there before us - the bread and the wine. We remember that the produce of the land comes from God. We remember that only God can provide for our essential needs. We remember that Jesus died for us, and that somehow, when we partake of the bread and the wine, we partake of Him - we take Christ into us, somehow. And we remember, in the one loaf and the one cup, that we are one body. The person next to you might be quite a bit older or younger than you, a different gender or race. She might speak a different language or be a member of a different political party; he might have offended you in some way last week. But we come to this altar, and we remember that we are all one in Christ. We receive the body and blood of our Lord, and we receive God’s grace. We walk away, feeling something of what it means to be part of that communion of saints - those who have gone before us in the faith, those who are faithful now, and those who will be. In this grace, we find forgiveness and the strength to forgive. We are given strength to love and the courage to be faithful.

 

 

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There is yet another sign this night. It is found in the wash basin and the towel and bare feet - your bare feet, perhaps, or your neighbor’s. We are reminded in this footwashing ceremony, as we re-enact Jesus washing the feet of his disciples, that we cannot earn God’s grace. We can only receive it. When we allow another person to wash our feet - as vulnerable as that feels to us - you and I must remember that we are allowing the Christ in them to love and serve the Christ in us. We are allowing the person who washes our feet to remind us that the kingdom of God is about love and service, and not about hate or domination or violence.

 

And when we are the one washing our neighbor’s feet, it is also true that we are serving the Christ in them. The Christ in you serves the Christ in the other. The Christ in the other serves the Christ in you. Any way you look at it, Christ is present, and Christ’s love, and maybe even Christ’s forgiveness, is received.

 

We need these signs. Some of them are known to us as the official sacraments of the Church. Some of them are not known that way, but they are still sacraments of God’s presence with us. They are still signs along the way, showing how much our God loves us, and reminding us of who we belong to, and all that we have to be grateful for.

 

God so often takes the ordinary and extraordinary things of our lives - bread and wine, water, oil, towels and basins, hands and feet, beavers and coyotes, a lover’s gentle touch or a friend’s powerful embrace, a shared meal with people you know well and people you’ve just met, a stripped altar, a song, light and then darkness, darkness and then light, a photograph, a painting, a sculpture, a child’s laugh, a cross, a word or sentence on a page - God takes these things and uses them as means by which we receive His grace, means by which we know... we know for certain... that God is with us and for us.

 

CONCLUSION

 

Amid all the meanness and violence that can be in this world, which our Lord experienced as much as anyone ever has, we look for these signs - these signs of the Lord’s presence, these signs of the kingdom of God. On this night, there are plenty of them to be seen and felt and heard and tasted and smelled. There are so many signs on this night that we can be overwhelmed by all them. But that is not a bad thing - to be overwhelmed by the presence of God. I’ll take that kind of overwhelm - any day, any time.

 

Thank you for all the signs that point to you, O Lord. We are grateful. Help us to honor and love you this night, and all the days of our lives. Amen.