Maunday Thursday is one of my favorite services of the whole church year, it is such a bummer to me that more people don't come out for it. Especially this year, when I've been preaching a sermon series through all of Lent, basically running through the whole history of humanity's relationship with God from Genesis forward. The basic underlying tension in my telling of the old, old story has been God's continual desire to be our God, to delight in us and dwell with us in the world of shalom; against our continual rebellion and deep desire to be our own gods (in other words, the basic Lutheran understanding of Sin and Salvation).
This evening was part of the series, and it's not that someone still won't get something out of my Easter sermon (hopefully) without having been there tonight, but Easter would just be that much more powerful after this service, because tonight's sermon was about God through Jesus choosing us, even though we never choose him; about Jesus deciding to reconcile us to God and to one another even if it kills him [which it did]. It's all heading to Easter Sunday, of course, which I'll proclaim as God's validation of Jesus' choice for us and the ultimate triumph of God's life-giving will for the world over our self- and other-destroying wills and habits.
So, like I say, it's not that someone can't get something out of that message in itself, but it's all the more awesome having come face-to-face with your inner God betrayer/Barabbas-lover, which is part of what I was doing tonight.
But I digress, the real reason I wanted to write tonight was because our kids once again demonstrated why they are the best theologians of the church.
My children's sermon on Maunday Thursday is always to wash the children's feet. It's a custom I picked up from my internship supervisor, Jeff Russell. When I first started the tradition here, I think the kids were a little unsure about it, but they've since grown to love it. Most come up to the front with their socks and shoes already off, they are so excited for it.
Tonight we had a pretty big crew - I was close to running out of water and towels! And when I finished with the kids, for the first time I turned and offered for anyone in the congregation to come forward as well. None of them did, but then one of the kids said, "Pastor Catrina, can we wash your feet?" And I said sure. So I took off my socks and shoes and held my feet over the basin, and the kids gathered round and poured the water over them, then carefully wiped them dry with a clean towel.
I've always found it a humbling experience to have my feet washed in the context of worship. But this was probably the most humbling and most profound, to see how these little ones get it, and how they long to embody the serving love of Christ.
You know, in their baptisms, we adults all made promises to teach them the faith. But they sure have plenty to teach us as well. . .
On a final note, a blessed Passover to all my Jewish brothers and sisters, as you celebrate your own night unlike any other.
L'Chaim,
C.
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