In the Name of Jesus. Amen.

Jesus and his disciples are gathered on the second floor of a stranger's home in Jerusalem to celebrate what Jews have crowded into the city from all over the empire to celebrate: Passover. By the time of Jesus, it was already an ancient ritual, dating back roughly 1000 years to the time when their ancestors, the Hebrews, were slaves in Egypt. You know the story: God had sent Moses to "Let my people go." Moses had duly warned Pharaoh, and God had sent a series of plagues upon Egypt to convince him. But Pharaoh held firm. God finally directed the Hebrews to paint lamb's blood on their doorposts, pack just a few thing including unleavened bread (there not being time to let it rise several times before baking), and be ready for a quick escape. Then, just as Moses had promised, the Lord swept through Egypt, killing the firstborn in every household, except the Lord passed over the homes of the Hebrews who had painted lamb's blood on the doorposts. The turmoil of this night among the Egyptians gave the Hebrews the opportunity to flee from Egypt, with Moses miraculously parting the Red Sea to hasten their escape. This is THE defining event in Judaism, when God freed them from slavery in Egypt and began their long journey to the promised land. The same festival of Passover which Jesus celebrated with his disciples in Jerusalem is still celebrated to this day in the homes of faithful Jews.

It was this sacred meal that Jesus and his disciples were celebrating that night, being, as they were, faithful Jews. The meal includes symbolic foods and traditional questions and responses, all of which recall and teach the history of the Jewish people.

It is during this meal that Jesus transforms it. When he passes the bread around -- most likely unleavened matzo -- Jesus gave it new meaning. "Take and eat. This is no longer a symbol of captivity. This is my body which is broken for you. Just as you have celebrated the Passover in remembrance of your deliverance from Egypt, eat this bread often in remembrance of me." And at the end of the meal, Jesus took the wine and said, "Drink this, all of you. This cup is God's new covenant with you, in my blood (no more lambs! No more animal sacrifices or burnt offerings) -- my blood, shed for you and for all people for the forgiveness of sin. Do this in remembrance of your deliverance from slavery to sin and death." So was born our Sacrament of the Lord's Supper, out of an ancient and most sacred Jewish meal.

Before the meal could be served, however, the disciples needed to wash before supper. In those days, washing your feet before accepting your host's hospitality was common manners. To neglect to do so was a great insult to your host. Occasionally a disciple would wash the feet of a teacher as an act of extraordinary devotion; but footwashing was primarily the work of slaves. As a sign of hospitality, a host would have a slave wash the feet of his/her guests. No one in their wildest dreams would have ever expected Jesus, the host, the master, to wash his disciples' feet. By doing this, Jesus became the peer of slaves, not of dignified rabbis or dinner hosts. His guests didn't have to do a thing. Turning the tables on "Ms. Manners," Jesus demonstrates that "communion" (relationship, close association) with him didn't depend on the disciples' proper conduct, or on observing social custom. They didn't even have to wash before supper. Jesus washed their feet for them.

Peter felt the indignity of this act on Jesus' behalf, and at first refuses to let Jesus stoop so low and degrade himself. Isn't that the way it usually is with us? We are too proud to want God to do everything for us. Oh, we might go to God in a crisis, but we are usually too proud to acknowledge that we need God to do everything for us, that without God we wouldn't even exist. Like Peter, we don't accept God's free gifts very well, do we? We want to earn what we get. We want to feel we are at least a little bit deserving... yet, that is not God's way.

Lutherans often ask, "What is required in order for someone to receive Holy Communion? Don't I have to be a certain age? Don't I have to have completed a required number of years of study? Don't I have to memorize Luther's Small Catechism? Don't I have to demonstrate I understand Holy Communion?

Jesus' action toward his disciples this night answers that question for us. There was nothing the disciples could do, or did do, that prepared them for this gift. Jesus even washes their feet for them. Even that they didn't do themselves. And listen again to the words of St. Paul, the first six words we repeat every time we share this meal: "In the night in which he was betrayed..."

This transformed Passover meal, Jesus washing his disciples' feet, and the words he speaks -- my body, my blood, new covenant -- puts us back in touch with who we are -- sinners, who can do nothing to save ourselves from the overwhelming power of sin, death, and the evil one; and saints, reborn in the waters of baptism from children of a fallen humanity to children of the living God.

Peter finally saw the light. Jesus' words, "Unless I wash you, you have no share with me" seemed to help Peter finally recognize that he was totally dependent on Jesus, and that Jesus wants to do this, to claim Peter and all the rest of us for himself. And so Peter exclaims, "Then don't just wash my feet, but wash my hands and my head, too. I want to put all of myself into your cleansing hands!"

Isn't that what we do when we gather, and together confess our sin? Aren't we putting all the dirt and darkness of our lives into the cleansing hands of Jesus who "washes us up" and pronounces us clean? "Though your sins are like scarlet," God says to Isaiah in a vision in Isaiah 1, "they shall be like snow; though they are red like crimson [like blood stains], they shall become like wool."

But there's more to this night. Jesus says something else. He says, "If I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. For I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them."

"Knowing" Jesus is Lord makes us believer, but it doesn't necessarily make us his disciples. "Doing" the work of Jesus, in gratitude and thanksgiving for all that Jesus has already done for us, and continues to do for us, most certainly does -- for he adds, "I give you a new mandate/commandment [this is more than Jesus' dying wish; he commands us], that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are disciples, if you have love for one another."

Maundy Thursday. From the Latin word mandatum, commandment. In English, "Mandate Thursday."

A sociologist at Princeton University explored how people make every-day ethical decisions. He found that many people perform deeds of compassion, service, and mercy because, at some point in their lives, someone acted with compassion toward them. He wrote, "The caring we receive may touch us so deeply that we feel especially gratified when we are able to pass it on to someone else."

He tells the story of Jack Casey, who was employed as an emergency worker on an ambulance rescue squad. When Jack was a child, he had to have oral surgery. What he remembers most was the operating room nurse who, seeing the boy's terror, said, "Don't worry, I'll be right here beside you no matter what happens." When Jack woke up after the surgery, sure enough, she was standing right there with him.

Nearly 20 years later, Jack's ambulance team was called to the scene of a highway accident. A truck had overturned, the driver was pinned in the cab and power tools were necessary to cut him out. However, gasoline was dripping onto his clothes, and one spark from the tools could have spelled disaster. The driver was terrified, crying out that he was scared of dying. So, Jack crawled into the cab next to him and said, "Look, don't worry, I'm right here with you; I'm not going anywhere." And he stayed with the man until he was safely removed from the wreckage.

Later the truck driver said to Jack, "You were an idiot! You know that the whole thing could have exploded and we would have both burned up!" Jack told him, "I promised to stay with you. I just couldn't leave you alone and so afraid."

Love like that comes only from Jesus. The human heart isn't big enough, brave enough, or unconditional enough to override our instinct for self-preservation. But Jesus' love in us can, and does. It is unlikely that you and I will find ourselves in a situation quite that harrowing, but it is very likely that we know, or will know, someone who is afraid, who feels alone in a crisis, someone who grates on our nerves because of frailties or sin so obvious to us, someone who has never felt loved or that they belonged -- someone who needs love that comes only from Jesus. Like Jack who passed on the comfort he had received from a nurse as a child, you and I DO know, and have received over and over and over again, the love of Jesus. We have been cleaned up over and over and over again by his cleansing hands. And now, we get to be people who love other people with Jesus' love.

Today, may we confess before God that we are the disciples of Jesus, with all of the same frailties and sinfulness of Peter and the others. May we also be like them in our sincere desire to serve and follow Jesus in the way of sacred love. Place yourself, all of yourself, into Jesus' cleansing hands. Don't hold anything back. Through this supper, hosted by our Lord, may God confirm you in your own discipleship, and remind you who you are -- God's beloved child.

Amen.