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The Model of Love

St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Wesley Chapel, FL 
Preacher: The Rev. Adrienne R. Hymes, Vicar
Maundy Thursday/Year B: John 13:1-17, 31b-35
April 1, 2021

As a chaplain in the critical care unit of the hospital, I saw people who were so sick from their various brushes with death. I saw people who were close to death. And, I saw people who succumbed to death. As I walked the unit and visited patient rooms during that year, I began to notice a theme—neglected feet. Some patients would have family members who would care for their hair, faces and hands, but overwhelmingly, the feet of the very sick appeared to be the most neglected parts of the body. 

Perhaps it was because many of the patients required attention to the brain or heart, and the feet were just too far down to be noticed. Perhaps they were just forgotten because, well, the patients were immobile; they weren’t walking, and so the feet were not really necessary to pay attention to when medical caregivers were trying to save lives.  

Feet, which were not in use for weeks, sometimes months at a time, showed visible signs of unintentional neglect by overgrown and discolored nails, dry and calloused skin, and some feet were even atrophied from lack of use.  

As Jesus washed the feet of his disciples before the Passover meal, he was very intentional about his attention to this particular body part. Feet then, as they are today, were necessary to get from one place to the next. People wore sandals and walked in a dusty environment. Washing the feet of guests was basic hospitality. But, it was slave’s work. 

When Jesus prepared himself with a towel and attempted to wash Peter’s feet, Peter pushed back on his attempt, wondering how it was possible that his Lord, Jesus, would wash the feet of his own servant. 

Peter did not realize was that Jesus was all about modeling love. Jesus said to his disciples, “If you call me teacher, then pay attention because I’m teaching right now.”  

In this intimate setting of the last supper, Jesus’ instruction for the disciples to love one another as he loved them, was a loving act intended to strengthen them to fulfill their life’s purpose of faithfully following the way. 

As we are brought by God on a life-long journey to the full stature of Christ, we can choose to perform acts of love for others. More than that, our passage is calling us to live into our purpose of becoming divine love in this world—an actionable love that when witnessed, clearly distinguishes followers of Jesus from all that is not of love. 

As we follow Jesus, our belief in him as the way, the truth and the life is deepened in community not in isolation.

The love of God made manifest through Jesus is distinctive. We are to practice and apply the love that Jesus modeled within this community of faith so that when we show up in the world “out there” there will be no doubt that we belong to the life-giving source who is, in the ongoing reconciling action of God, making all things new even as we worship in this church today. 

This gospel passage speaks loudly to a hurting world reeling from the Coronavirus pandemic—visibly marked by uninterrupted physical sickness and death over this past year. Over this past year, Americans have been a part of a global Critical Care Unit. 

With so much emphasis on the visible horrors witnessed in daily life, in the media and in the streets of this nation, particularly this past year; there is little attention paid to, or energy left, to pay attention to that which is invisible. 

That part of the body, like the feet, whose health is necessary in moving about this world, yet is so often neglected because it is invisible—the human soul. 

Friends, we live in a society where the fear of a deadly virus, runs rampant in the minds of individuals. We live in a society where the fear of the deadly virus of racism—which often manifests in domestic terrorism in places that once were safe, and the slaughter of innocents just for the sake of killing. Living in a society like ours takes a toll, over time, on the physical and mental wellbeing of human beings. 

But, what about the neglect of the human soul?  The spiritual wounds of grievance, guilt, grief, neglected over a lifetime, may not be seen, but are certainly felt by the wounded and by those with whom they come into contact.  Those spiritual wounds manifest in the ways in which we treat others, and point to spiritually dry souls and calloused, atrophied hearts. 

You see, our society’s voiced priority is physical wellbeing. Rarely is spiritual wholeness explicitly included in society’s broader plan for well health. We should not be shocked considering that only recently is attention being paid to mental wellness.  

As a child, my late grandfather, Dr. Cromwell Douglas, had a close bond with our family’s priest, Fr. Joseph Green, the priest who baptized me. Grandad had deep respect for Fr. Green. More than once, I recall my grandad pointing to Fr. Green and saying to me, “I’m physician of the body, but Fr. Green is a doctor of the soul.” 

Jesus modeled for his disciples, how to be doctors of the soul, through the shared human experience. Humankind was in a spiritual Critical Care Unit long before the isolation, uncertainty and anxiety, shared by so many during this still-very-present pandemic. 

We are still separated from others; 

still unable to safely share meals; and we are 

still sin-sick patients in need of Jesus to heal our souls to not only keep us alive, but to have life abundant—spiritual wholeness now—and life eternal when this life is over. 

Let us not be guilty of unintentional, or intentional, neglect of the spiritually dry souls and the calloused and atrophied hearts of one another and of our neighbors. 

On this Maundy Thursday, hydrate that which is dry in your spirit with the living water of Jesus; wash the gaping wounds of your soul in him; and smooth away the callouses of an atrophied heart, like water shapes rocks over time. 

May we actively and unceasingly infuse love and speak life as we model the love of Christ living among us and in us. 

And, may we always remember the gift of being able to gather together and to break bread with God’s beloved.