‘We are surrounded by
so great a cloud of witnesses.’
We are not the first ones here. In fact, we are rather late
to the party, so to speak. We have simply stepped into a stream of faith that
has been flowing for around 2,000 years.
It is not our story. It is not our event. We do not own it.
We do not have any right to change it or to adapt it. All we can do is simply
make ourselves present, stand in the stream and let it wash over us.
Thousands, millions have stood in the stream before us.
Thousands, millions have stood in awe and wonder and pondered what all this
means but, at the end of the day, all we can do in our limited human way, is
stand here and let it wash over us.
In this stream, we discover life. In this stream, we
discover love. We have considered Mary’s ‘I love you too’ to Christ. We have
considered how love has to be released and set free in order to become that
which it is meant to be.
This evening’s glimpse of love is perhaps the most difficult
because it is a glimpse of love rejected, love betrayed, a glimpse of loving
somebody who does not love back, a glimpse of love that will cause us to see
how weak our love is in comparison.
It is a love that knows who will bring about the deepest
pain and suffering in our lives, a love that stands face to face with that
person and chooses to love anyway. It is a love that lays down its own right to
be angry, its own right to revenge or to take action to prevent that person’s
actions.
If somebody hurts me, I want revenge. I dream of revenge. I
want to see that person suffer. I have dreamt of causing that suffering to another
and woken up in a cold sweat as I realise what darkness lies in the recesses of
my heart and mind. And if I know that somebody wishes me harm, I will do what I
can to strike before that person strikes me. I have experienced betrayal and
desired revenge.
Christ hurts me. This evening’s Gospel hurts me. It hurts me
because I see a perfect love in Christ that will wash the feet of the person
who would cause his suffering. I see a perfect love of Christ that will reach
out with bread saying ‘This is my body, broken for you.’ In other words: ‘no
matter what you have done, or are about to do, this is my body which is broken
for you’. It is that same love that can watch as nails are driven into wrists
and ankles, look upon those who hammer the nails, and say ‘Father, forgive
them, for they know not what they do’.
This is a love that hurts me, because I am not sure whether
I can love in this way. I am not sure whether I have that goodness within me. I
am not sure whether I can look at those who have hurt me and love them still.
When I ponder these things and look within myself, I see
anger. I often say to people that anger is the easiest, and often the first
emotion. It is an emotion that we often run to because it protects us from
being touched. It prevents us from being hurt. Anger puts a distance between
those who have hurt us, or wish to hurt us, and ourselves.
Jesus knew.
Jesus knew who would hand him over. Jesus knew who would
bring about unspeakable pain and suffering. Jesus knew who it was that could
take the love that he gave so freely and throw it back in his face. Jesus knew
who it was who would use a sign of friendship and intimacy, a kiss, to bring
him to death.
I feel angry. I want to hurt that person, and cause them the
pain that they wish upon me and more still. I want that person to suffer. I
want that person to beg for forgiveness.
Jesus knew, and yet Jesus washed his feet. Jesus knew, and
yet Jesus included him. Jesus knew, and yet Jesus loved to the last. Jesus
knew, and instead of being angry, instead of protecting himself, instead of
doing what he would have been more than capable of and preventing the whole
thing, instead of all this, he loved, he washed, he touched, he fed.
He loved, he embraced, he washed, he fed, with all the
tenderness of a mother doing those things to her child. He could see the
thoughts of Judas, and yet still sought to include him in his embrace.
What love is this? What perfection is this?
It is a love that I am called to know. It is a love that I
am called to live. It is a love that I am called to show. It is a love that
willingly accepts pain. It is a love that willingly lays down anger. It is a
love that willingly chooses the better path.
It is a love that look on all things and says ‘whatever
happens, I will still love’.
I look upon this love, and I am lost. I am confused. I am
faced with my own brokenness and my own falling short. I am faced with how far
I have fallen and how far I have missed the mark. I am faced with realising
that I have, at times, been Judas. I am faced with realising that so often I
would rather hand Jesus over than have to follow the path that he walks before
me. I am faced with realising that I am not worthy of Christ’s love. I am faced
with realising that I want to drop it all and run away.
But harder still, I am faced with hearing the call of Christ
to come unto him, to receive his body and his blood. I am faced with having to
stand in his place and speak his words, with all my horrible sinfulness, with
all my weak and inadequate love.
It is too much for me to take in. It is too much for me to
do on my own.
And so, ‘surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses’, I look
to Jesus. I enter the stream and pray for the strength to stand and let it wash
over me, and pray for the gift of love. So may we all.
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