A carefully documented study spanning the last twenty-five years indicates that financial
woes are the number one cause for relationship breakdown, ending 2 out of every 3 marriages within the first 10
years. In pre-marriage counseling we generally discuss the disastrous effect that unmanageable bills, arriving
like a dark cloud around the 15th or 30th of each month can have on even the best of couples. No one likes to be
in debt, yet most nations set the standard for living beyond their means, and businesses, churches, and people
of all ages tend to follow. "Budgets" have become little more than wish lists, and when they are suddenly
upheld people feel betrayed.
The number of people who try to live "debt free" and totally independent is decreasing every year. Perhaps
that is why most of the books written on the subject of "how to take back control of your life" clearly
state that it takes a lot of discipline. For a while there was a consistent theory that those who had lived through
the depression, or those who had experienced really desperate financial straits even resulting in bankruptcy were
more likely to live within their means, but the lure of the media and popular culture to the "want, need,
and spend" mentality…coupled with the aging of that particular demographic group has diminished even the potential
of that sub-group.
Our culture makes it really easy to believe that one can have it all, can have it now, and can have the freedom
not to pay for it until much later,--clouding the understanding of what it means to be "indebted."
At the same time as a culture we have become increasingly over protective about raising the bar of our own vulnerability
out of fear of somehow becoming obligated to another human being. We are better able to bluff, and smoke screen
our way through conversations, even important ones with family physicians, counselors, and clergy…to give the indication
that we are "okay" and that everything is in perfect control.
I share all of that on this Maundy Thursday because it is really at the heart of what is at stake not only in what
Jesus does in the upper room, but also what he commands us to do in his name.
We began with a psalm that celebrates the need for us to "pay our vows" which of course assumes that
we have already accepted the fact that we have obligations,--that we "owe" something to someone. I'm
not sure everyone would agree with even that basic premise!
In a very real sense an acceptance of "indebtedness" allows one to more easily assume the role of a person
who must in effect "work off their debt" in some way. Clearly the obligations of servant-hood were very
real for those who first heard these words. There have been many times in history, and there continue to be such
times in various places around the world, where people were or are actually forced to sell themselves as laborers
to work off financial obligations. The foundations of our faith were laid in a slave culture which some Bible commentators
indicate was one of the primary factors for the popularity of the themes we find there, and the success of the
spread of Christianity throughout the Roman Empire. The majority of those who first claimed to be followers of
Jesus were either presently or formerly slaves.
Paul even refers to how few among the early Christians were of noble birth, free from outside obligations, and
privileged to have had the opportunities for learning, travel and free trade.
That is not to say that people never thought that independence wasn't highly preferable…it just wasn't their reality;
and in most cases not even a possibility.
By the third century, when the Gospels were being collected and revised, the issue of Christianity attracting a
"higher class" of people was a real one. Not everyone wanted to mingle with former slaves, but everyone
wanted to embrace what was now "the official religion of the Roman Empire." The challenge of willingly
accepting "the servant's role," though idealistically important, was seen as far from realistically practical.
It's during this pivotal time in the development of the Early Church that stories such as our Gospel lesson for
tonight, and seasonal piety practices begin to develop. Lenten sacrifice for example is an excellent way to "play
the suffering servant" without getting too involved. Let me see if I can illustrate that one for you.
The person who feels compelled to "give up chocolate" for example is really only playing with the issue
of servant-hood. While it may be painful for me to give up a tasty sweet that I really enjoy, it doesn't involve
anyone but me. I doubt that God is particularly impressed by the agony I go through in my self-denial, and is more
likely amused when I say things, albeit only to those I can really trust about how glad I'll be when this whole
Lenten thing is over! Having just shared in a traditional Passover I can tell you that the grousing about having
to give up leaven, which includes anything that swells up when cooked, and thus means all pastas, beans, and rice
as well as bread stuffs, is equally consistent.
In the end I may prove to myself that I can do without something I enjoy for a period of time…but so what? As opposed
to the ban on leaven…God never commanded me to give up something…unless it was my own sense of self- righteousness.
On the contrary, on this Holy Thursday evening God, in Jesus, commanded me to take up something…namely my sense
of obligation to my neighbor, and to love that person even as God, in Jesus, has loved me.
In the context of this being the last night that Jesus moved freely as a man upon this earth, I think it is fair
to say that an understanding of limited time greatly increases one's ability to comply to such expectations. While
it may be hard for me to make myself completely vulnerable for the rest of my days, I might be able to get through
these next thirty minutes or so, living in community with the rest of you. I might begin to look at such times
together as opportunities for me to learn this challenging discipline which is far from "other worldly,"
and very much centered in the here and now.
When I leave this place, I might consider "spending" myself in other ways. God knows how many spiritual
discipline writers have offered simple suggestions about what might be more fulfilling, and rewarding to God than
my abstinence from chocolate. Here's a sample list to consider:
Try saying "good morning" as though your really meant it.
The next day, try treating some teenager like an adult.
Find someone to praise for doing a good job-a waitress, bus driver, newsboy, store clerk, anyone.
Show respect for an older person's experience or fortitude.
Be patient with someone who doesn't understand as quickly as you do.
Write or phone someone having a difficult time.
Look pleasant.
Do your job a little better.
Help someone in need, whether it's a shared arm, sandwich, or paycheck. If you can give nothing else, give hope.
Contribute to some church or charity, money if you can, time if you can't.
Let me close with a poem entitled "A Prayer for Entrance Into Darkness" written by the Rev. William Loader,
a minister of the Uniting Church in Australia:
The darkness asks us questions.
You are out there and we do not see.
You invite us into the night,
the stillness, the loneliness, the desert place.
We cannot see our shadow;
the cold damp of unknowing rises up from beneath our feet.
We tread cautiously, tentatively.
We are afraid,
afraid of ghosts
haunting us with specters of guilt and shame.
We would like to run back,
reach the river bank,
swim the Jordan,
sit in the sun by the sea,
mending our nets.
But you have brought us here
- with no bread.
When we look we can see only ourselves,
our darkness.
When we read,
it is invisible words which cannot be grasped,
thoughts we cannot clutch,
hope we cannot capture.
Yet the wild honey remains a taste in our mouth,
a memory for a new day.
Why have you brought us here?
What miracle will you perform for us?
The darkness sighs around us,
dense with your unseen presence,
close to our breathing,
close to our breathing.
O darkness, enlighten us,
embrace us with your invisible love.
Let us see your glory in the ashes.
Take us by the hand that we may trust the darkness.
Minister to us by your Spirit that we may not be afraid.
Jesus, keep the beasts away.
Amen.
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