There is a church here that I like to visit for Maundy Thursday, a small Anglican church downtown that flat out wins the prize for best church building in the city. It's old, small, traditional, beautiful. The liturgy is not what I am used to, but I don't mind, and in some ways, I enjoy that every word is crafted, considered, and heavy with meaning. It fits the day somehow. Last night, I particularly enjoyed what the Vicar (I do believe that is the first time in you life I have ever used that word in context, not such an American one!) had to say- intellectual, biblical, Christ centered, and thought provoking.
Maundy, apparently, means command or mandate, as in Jesus' words to the disciples, a new command I give to you, that you love one another. He spoke about washing feet, about service and love, about abiding, about being willing to just receive it all- how we are always trying to do things for Jesus instead of receive Jesus. He spoke about allowing Jesus to care for us so that we can care for others. In many ways, not anything earth shattering. But it all frames differently for me under the title Commandment Thursday and I'm left wondering a bit how I could get this far without knowing what it meant. There are a lot of funny words floating around churches, I guess I just chalked it up to being a funny church word and moved on.
Being challenged to both let Jesus wash our feet and then to go and do likewise looks a lot different as a mandate. We all know the line in Jesus' reply, that if Peter doesn't allow his feet to be washed than he has no part with Jesus, but how often do I see it as a command to receive? To receive in prayer, receive in the Word, receive in the vulnerability that says to someone else, I need help. I'm a picky person, and nothing makes me pickier than needing help. In Jesus we have a High Priest who helps us in our weakness, and often he helps us by the people he puts in our lives, if we are willing to receive.
It's easy to receive, to abide in him, in church. It gets a bit harder when we walk out the door. Or before we walk in it. My week off had not been going to plan. Instead of spending my time resting and socializing and rejuvenating, I'd been just trying to keep it together. In the hours immediately preceding church I was busy beating myself up for not being able to find the restaurant my friend and I were going to eat at before church, leading to a hot sticky walk down streets with which I was not very familiar and then a rushed dinner at a different restaurant and last hurried scramble to get to church on time. Anything that goes wrong in Bangkok in April is made worse by the oppressive heat and humidity that envelop the city, sticking to your pores like glutinous rice in a toddler's hair. It's a small price to pay for missing the Polar Vortex, I know, but it's obnoxious all the same.
So it was nice to walk under the arches of the airconditioned and stained glass church at 7:02, already a few lines into the service, and hear the words Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name, and shortly after be commanded by Jesus to receive, to abide, to serve, and to love. As we reflected on Jesus' last hours with his disciples, it was good to be reminded that the work was already done, his body broken and his blood spilled, and to be directed to simply receive it, receive him, and then go and love as he loves us.
And now you prepare a table for us offering us not just bread and wine but your very self, so that we may be filled, forgiven, healed, blessed and made new again.
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