Maundy Thursday
Year A
April 21, 2011
Exodus 12:1-14
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
“This is my body.”
“This is my blood.”
With these words, Jesus offered himself to his disciples on the night he was betrayed. The night before he died.
“This is my body.”
“This is my blood.”
Each Sunday, Christian pastors and priests around the world repeat these words over bread and wine, honoring Jesus’ command to do this in remembrance of him.
Over the next three days, we gather to do the same.
To remember.
To remember, not only Jesus offering himself to us in bread and wine,
But also to remember his command that we love one another as he loved us.
To remember a love which led him to a cross, where he laid down his life for his friends.
To remember the torture. The pain. The suffering. The death. And ultimately, his victory over all that as he rose from the grave.
“This is my body.”
“This is my blood.”
What is this gift that Jesus offers us this night? What is this remembrance of him in bread and wine?
Is this some kind of magic that we do here at the altar week after week?
Are these magic words that I mutter that transform simple bread and wine into real flesh and blood?
Not hardly.
This is no mere “hocus pocus” that we do each week. (which is, by the way, a made-up phrase that probably was based on the words from the Latin Mass for “This is my body.”)
Is this “hocus pocus”?
No. It is something more, much, much more.
As Lutheran Christians, we do believe in the “real presence” of Christ in the sacrament. That is, we believe and teach that Christ is truly present to us in the bread and the wine.
We believe that this meal is more than just a nice reminder of something that happened a long, long time ago.
But Martin Luther didn’t try to explain how it works. He said simply (or not so simply) that “In, with and under the forms of bread and wine, Christ is truly present to us.” And left it at that.
And while we don’t try to explain how this “real presence” works, we do insist on talking about what it means for us and for our faith.
And, ultimately, I think that’s more important.
That night in the upper room, Jesus invited the disciples deeper into a story. A story that the Jews had been telling their children and grandchildren year after year for a thousand years.
It was a story of redemption and freedom. Of the breaking of bonds and the end of oppression.
It was a story of God acting on behalf of his children.
Of the great power of Pharaoh being broken.
And the power of God being made manifest.
Now, Jesus says to the disciples, that same power is going to be made known in a new way. He tells them that now, it will be made manifest in and through him, through Jesus himself.
In his body.
In his blood.
Once again, the power of God’s steadfast love is going to break the power of a seemingly unbeatable foe…
But, this time… the foe will be Death itself.
Tonight, we are, once again, being invited into that story.
As we hear the words of the Eucharist Prayer, recounting the story of God’s love from the creation to Christ, we become a part of the story.
As we come to the table that story becomes a part of us
As we share the bread and the wine…
Christ’s body is present to us. The body he offered up for our sake and for the sake of the world.
Christ’s blood is present to us. The blood he shed for the brokenness of the world and the forgiveness of our sins.
And we remember.
But this is no ordinary remembrance.
As we share the sacrament… we are there. We are there in the upper room. We are there hearing our Lord’s words of promise and of hope. We are there wondering with the disciples as Jesus talks of the sacrifice he is about to give.
And, even more than that, we, like them, hear the command to love; to wash one another’s feet following the example of our Lord.
This sacrament invites us to do more than just share Jesus’ body and blood.
It invites us to share Jesus’ life. It invites us into the story of his love and invites us to share that love with the world.
Jesus’ love fills us as surely as we take the bread and the wine into our bodies. It connects us to one another and to all those Jesus came to seek and to find: to the lost and the lonely, the suffering and the oppressed, to the least and little ones of our world.
“This is my body.”
“This is my blood.”
This is no “hocus pocus”.
It defines who we are and who our Lord calls us to be. It fills us with his life week in and week out, calling us to remembrance – to a remembrance of who he is for us, and what he calls us to be.
So, my friends, come and eat.
And taste the goodness and grace, the forgiveness and mercy that is ours, through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.