Introduction: Outsiders Come In and Reflection: Insiders Go Out

Introduction: Outsiders Come In

Imagine the disciples sitting around the table. They’re still shaken! They’re not quite sure what just happened.

You see, they’re all having dinner at the home of Martha, and Mary, and Lazarus. It’s a post-resurrection celebration —an official Thank You for Raising Me From The Dead kind of occasion.

After everyone had eaten and they’re sitting around, Mary —the woman who days earlier brought Jesus to tears —Mary went and got a pound of perfume. The fragrance filled the whole house! Right in front of everyone, Mary anointed Jesus’s feet, wiping them with her hair, because you can have all this world —you can have the whole wide world— give me Jesus.

In this moment, Mary’s deep longing poured right into Christ’s deep longing. I’m not sure anyone had ever touched him with this kind of tenderness! It did something to him. It did something to her!

Then right in the rising of their communion, Judas had to interrupt with a complaint: Um… what she does she think she’s doing? Is this even allowed? Now Judas gets roundly rebuked for criticizing Mary’s sacrament. It’s just—

It could be, Judas was saying what everyone was thinking.

In a few minutes, we’re going to hear a story in which Peter does pretty much the same thing. When Jesus tries to wash his feet, Peter objects, but really, he’s saying what everybody’s thinking: Lord, what do you think you’re doing? Is this even allowed?

The intimacy is frightening. Our longing is frightening.

In each story, Judas and Peter are speaking up for the outsiders in the room, and thank goodness they do. I mean, you’ve got the insiders, but they already understand. They’re swept up in the intensity of the moment, ready to follow wherever this leads, and that’s beautiful. Then of course you’ve got the outsiders who want to nothing to do with any of this, thank you, they’re not even in the building.

It’s the outsiders in the room— those are the ones to notice.

 

Imagine what it would be like to visit Church of Peace for the first time…

Imagine what it would be like to visit Church of Peace if you’ve never been to any kind of church before…

Step into the sanctuary, you’ll see this whole experience is confusing and weird! People are reading together in unison. People are singing together! Where else in the world does this happen?

Church is always, well, weird. At any church, there are unspoken expectations that leave us feeling intimidated. And like the house with the pound of perfume, churches always have a definite smell.

Even when the insiders do their very best to be welcoming, visiting a church is strange and scary, especially if you’ve been hurt by a church before, especially if you’re not entirely sure what you believe.

When people decide to stay away from churches altogether, I can understand why they would arrive at that choice.

What blows me away is that sometimes people do show up here, at the corner of Twelfth and Twelfth, because even though they’re not sure, there’s something in them that has to come and see.

These are the people who stay in the chapel or the narthex. They might come a little late or leave a little early. They might sit in the middle of the sanctuary hoping nobody will put them on the spot, hoping nobody will see their secret skepticism or detect their wariness.

They might have visited fifty times, and they still feel like a first-time visitor. They might be you, or me, or any of us. We might see Jesus coming down the line washing feet, and look, I’m not sure I’m ready for that.

Maybe all of us know this outsider-insider tension. Maybe all of us are ready to make a quick exit if it all starts to get a little too real, it’s just—

There’s something in your soul and in mine that’s gotten us to stay so far. There’s some curiosity drawing us in, some longing for the love of Christ that we can’t exactly name, but we’ll know it when we find it.

Something has called us to this place in this moment, even though we are putting ourselves in the path of compassion, making ourselves able to be found by Christ. Maybe we kind of want that.

Maybe we’ll even believe it when we sing, you can have all this world— you can have the whole wide world— give me Jesus.

Or maybe at least, we have to find out.

John 13:1-17

Reflection: Insiders Go Out

Imagine the disciples sitting around the table. They’re still shaken! They’re not quite sure what just happened.

Jesus took their feet in his hands, and he scrubbed them clean! If you walked into the room right afterwards, you’d be able to tell. There had been a rearranging of power! The air held an unembarrassed tenderness. And you better believe, there was a definite smell.

Jesus comes back to the table saying: You get it, don’t you? You call me Teacher and Lord. Now if I have washed your feet, you can do this for each other. You have received so you can give. You have been blessed so you are entirely authorized to go and bless. Go and do the same…

When Jesus tells them this, I’m pretty sure, they are terrified. We would be! Now in our case, many of us aren’t used to handling other people’s feet. That right there is enough to induce panic. In the ancient world, footwashing was common, but it was a servant’s job to wash the feet of guests.

The scary part is that Jesus is the one taking this on. The really scary part is what this means. You can do this too, he tells them. With your own hands, you can serve. You already have everything it takes.

This is frightening for us to hear, not because it’s so hard to believe, but because we know Jesus is right. We’ve always known this deep in our bones. We’ve always known this in our hands.

 

Our hands pick up trash, and wipe away tears, and dress wounds. Our hands change diapers, and repair garbage disposals, and bake bread, and pull weeds. And after any of that, our hands get washed.

Our hands play music, and go shopping for World Relief, and pack bags of food for our neighbors, and drive friends to the doctor, and set up tables and put away tables.

Our hands have the muscle memory that knows how to serve those in need. But that’s just it… Once your hands know the rhythm of kindness, well, you can’t really stay home after that. This work brings us right into the places where our world is hurting.

Sometime you might get Alex’s famous soup recipe in order to make a meal for someone who’s grieving. Then you find yourself delivering it, then you find yourself talking with the person, next thing you know, you’re sitting down beside them. And it’s kind of scary! What if you look at them and realize you’re seeing something of Christ…

You might decide to begin writing to someone in our prison pen pal program only to find that you hit it off. Next thing you know, your pen pal puts you on their visit list, and you’re in the car heading to Pontiac. It’s kind of scary! And sure enough, when they come into the visiting room, you see something of Christ…

People who love animals might discover that the work of their hands takes them into the shelters— they have to volunteer! But there’s no helping in a shelter without seeing how human people have let down the creatures who depend on us.

On Facebook, Meghan C shared a picture of baby carriages lined up in a Polish railway station. With their own hands, Polish mothers left strollers and blankets for Ukrainian mothers who had to flee with their babies in their arms.

This is what happens when you handle kindness. There’s no way to do that and not find yourself going right into the trouble. There’s no way to do that and not find Jesus… There’s no way to do that and not find something of Christ in our own hearts.

In her chapter on footwashing, Rachel Held Evans quotes Frederick Buechner who said this: “If you want to be holy, be kind.”¹Evans, Rachel Held. Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church. Thomas Nelson Press. Nashville, TN: 2015. page 114. Now I don’t disagree; I think Buechner’s right, but I’d say it like this: Watch out! If you’re going to keep on doing the work of kindness, you’re going to be holy. The rest of us can see it!

 

They were sitting around having dinner when Mary did what she had to. She washed Jesus’s feet. And I’m not sure anyone had ever touched him with such tenderness…

They were sitting around having dinner when Jesus did what he had to. He washed the disciples’ feet even though this was going to empower them to walk right into the trouble. Now they wouldn’t be able to stay home. This kindness changed their lives.

And look, I know church is weird. There are unspoken expectations that make it intimidating. There’s a definite smell! Still, people keep coming here longing to meet Jesus in the deep place of our soul…

Go into any part of this world that’s hurting —any high school, any hospital, any homeless shelter, any house— it will be weird. There are unspoken expectations that make it intimidating. There’s a definite smell! Still, the people show up to help. We’ll roll up our sleeves and wash our hands.

Who knew that our longing to find Jesus would flip around and we would be the ones getting found?

Who knew the work of kindness would change us… May it be so.