"The Last Night"

It is the last night of Jesus’ life.

Of course, he doesn’t really know that for sure. He does not have a script that tells him exactly what is going to happen to him and when.

But he knows that the end is near. He knows that tensions are high in the city, that the things he has deliberately chosen to do – heal the sick, lift up the lowly, proclaim the dignity of all people, challenge the religious and civil authorities – have made him powerful enemies.

He knows that there are those who wish to do him harm, to kill him. He knows he is not going to back away from the path he is on.

And so the end is inevitable – maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, but certainly sometime soon.

He knows that this meal with his friends, this motley crew of men and women who have devoted themselves to following him, is likely to be his last with them.

He looks around at them with love and affection and grief, with a little frustration thrown in, too. He has tried to teach them so many things. Sometimes they seem to get it; sometimes he wonders if they have understood anything he has said or done at all.

This may be his last chance, his last lesson. How can he get their attention? How can he make them understand the core message of his life?

Suddenly he has an inspiration. He gets up from the table, ties a towel around his waist, pours water into a bowl, kneels on the floor, and begins to wash his friends’ tired and dirty feet.

Predictably, they don’t understand. Peter sputters an objection – “I’m not letting you touch my feet! You can’t do that. That’s a servant’s job.”

“Ah, that’s the point,” Jesus replies. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. We are here to be servants; we show our love for God by loving and serving God’s people.

“I’ll be leaving you soon,” he tells them. “But my work must continue and live on in you. Follow my example. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Later that night he is arrested; the next day he is executed.

Almost two millennia later, halfway around the world, on an early April evening in 1968 in Memphis, Tennessee, it is the last night of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King’s life.

Of course, he doesn’t really know that. He does not have a script that tells him exactly what is going to happen to him and when.

But he knows that the end is likely near. He knows that tensions are high in the city, that the things he has deliberately chosen to do – lift up the lowly, proclaim the dignity and equality of all people, work for justice, challenge the religious and civil authorities – have made him powerful enemies.

He knows that there are those who wish to do him harm, to kill him. He knows he is not going to back away from the path he is on.

And so the end is inevitable – maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, maybe next month, but likely sometime soon.

On this last night he gathers with his followers and with a large group of people that few respectable citizens would choose to spend time with – the city’s garbage workers, who are on strike seeking better working conditions and pay that would feed their families.

On this last night of his life, King is guided by the Lord he follows, the example he tries to emulate. He looks out at the crowd with love and affection and grief, and remembers Jesus’ teachings, that love demands justice.

And he knows that whatever happens to him, his work, God’s work, must continue.

“We are determined to gain our rightful place in God’s world,” he tells the garbage workers and those who support them. “The issue is injustice. God’s children here are suffering, sometimes going hungry, going through dark and dreary nights.”

As he nears the end of his speech he is overcome with foreboding.

“I don’t know what will happen now,” he says. “We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now. Because I’ve been to the mountaintop. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will.

“And he’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land.

“And I’m happy tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”

The next evening King’s life is ended by an assassin’s bullet.

Twelve years later, on a continent to the south of Memphis, in El Salvador at the end of March in 1980, it is the last day in the life of another of Christ’s servants, El Salvadoran Archbishop Oscar Romero.

Of course, he doesn’t really know that for sure. He does not have a script that tells him exactly what is going to happen to him and when.

But he knows that the end is near. He knows that tensions are high in the country, that the things he has deliberately chosen to do – lift up the lowly, proclaim the dignity of all God’s people, work for justice, challenge the authorities – have made him powerful enemies.

He knows that there are those who wish to do him harm, to kill him. He knows he is not going to back away from the path he is on.

And so the end is inevitable – maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, but likely sometime soon. He knows that his work, God’s work, must continue after he is gone.

“I have often been threatened with death,” Romero said days earlier. “If they kill me, I shall arise in the Salvadoran people. If the threats come to be fulfilled, from this moment I offer my blood to God for the redemption and resurrection of El Salvador.

“Let my blood be a seed of freedom and the sign that hope will soon be reality.”

On this day, the last day of his life, Romero looks with love, affection and grief at those who have gathered to hear him. He remembers Jesus’ teachings, that love demands justice.

He speaks out passionately against the violence inflicted by government assassins on the peasants of his country, 83 political assassinations in the past four days alone.

“To those who bear in their hands or in their conscience the burden of bloodshed, of outrages, of victims, I say: Be converted. You cannot find God on the path of torture. God is found on the way of justice, conversion, and truth.

“I would like to make a special appeal to the men of the army,” he says. “Brothers, you come from our own people. You are killing your own brother peasants…

“No soldier is obliged to obey an order contrary to the law of God. No one has to obey an immoral law. It is high time you recovered your consciences.”

The next day, in a hospital chapel, as Romero lifts the host at the Eucharist, government assassins burst in and shoot him. His blood spills across the altar.

Thirty years later, we are gathered here tonight to remember the last night of our Lord’s life. We hear his command to love one another as he has loved us.

We know from his example, and from the prophets in our own day who lived out his instructions, that this commandment is not always easy.

The kind of love Jesus commands is not a warm fuzzy feeling. It is a demand for justice for all God’s people. It is lifting up the lowly. It is, when necessary, challenging the authorities. It is a willingness to be a servant. It is walking the path of righteousness no matter what dangers that path may bring us through.

The kind of love that Jesus commands can be costly. We give thanks this night for those, like Martin Luther King Jr. and Oscar Romero, who willing sacrificed their lives for the love of God’s people.

We give thanks that we have not been called to make that sacrifice. But we pray that we be responsive to Christ’s command to love one another, whatever form that may take.

Tonight we follow that command, the last lesson of Jesus’ earthly life, by loving our brothers and sisters in this room. We follow Christ’s example by lovingly washing one another’s feet.

“Tonight I give you a new commandment, that you love one another,” Jesus tells us. “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Amen.

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Readings

Exodus 12:1-14a

The Lord said to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt: “This month shall mark for you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year for you. Tell the whole congregation of Israel that on the tenth of this month they are to take a lamb for each family, a lamb for each household. If a household is too small for a whole lamb, it shall join its closest neighbor in obtaining one; the lamb shall be divided in proportion to the number of people who eat of it. Your lamb shall be without blemish, a year-old male; you may take it from the sheep or from the goats. You shall keep it until the fourteenth day of this month; then the whole assembled congregation of Israel shall slaughter it at twilight. They shall take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and the lintel of the houses in which they eat it. They shall eat the lamb that same night; they shall eat it roasted over the fire with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. Do not eat any of it raw or boiled in water, but roasted over the fire, with its head, legs, and inner organs. You shall let none of it remain until the morning; anything that remains until the morning you shall burn. This is how you shall eat it: your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly. It is the passover of the Lord. For I will pass through the land of Egypt that night, and I will strike down every firstborn in the land of Egypt, both human beings and animals; on all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments: I am the Lord. The blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you live: when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague shall destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt. This day shall be a day of remembrance for you. You shall celebrate it as a festival to the Lord; throughout your generations you shall observe it as a perpetual ordinance.

1 Corinthians 11:23-26

I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.”

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.” After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So 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. Very truly, 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. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ I give you a new commandment, 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 my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

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