Holy Thursday, April 14, 2022 – Exodus 12:1-8, 11-14; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; John 13:1-15

There are marginal notes in the book that I pray from. They’re called rubrics. And right after it says, “The homily is given,” it says, “The priest should preach a short homily incorporating the three things that this feast celebrates: the inauguration of the priesthood of Jesus Christ - the sacrament of Holy Orders, the inauguration of the Lord’s Supper - the sacrament of Holy Eucharist, and paternal charity. Of course, the instructions were printed before saying “paternal” was a bad thing, and so we just say now family love, community love, community charity. So, I’m going to try and preach a short homily on all those three things which fill book after book after book. And, because I’m going to try to preach a short homily, it will be a subjective homily. I’ll leave you to get from it what you can.

I’ve been an ordained minister for 54 years, and a priest for 53. And, in that time, I think I have done some good for some few people. But I never served people from below. I always served them from above. Whether it was counseling, or writing letters for them, or ministering to them in other ways, I never got down on my knees to wash their feet. I never knelt in the dirt in order they might rise. Worse still, in my 53 years of priesthood, I’ve never let Jesus wash my feet. My hands and my head, maybe. My feet, no.

And that’s why I need the Holy Eucharist. Because washing His disciples’ feet was a drama that acted out in a gentle fashion. The dreadful reality that would take place not 24 hours afterward, in which He truly became a slave to all of us, suffering the fate of a slave, that we might be clean. And so I need the Eucharist because it’s the only way, after 53 years of ministry, that Jesus can possibly wash my feet.