https://app.dropwave.io/episode/4d6d50b8-0bcb-40dc-b55f-56d0e0596fd6/maundy-thursday-ad-2025.mp3

++ JESU JUVA ++

In the Name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Now before the Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.

Usually when we hear that someone did something “to the end,” we think it means “until he could do it no more.” He stayed by her side, never wavering in his devotion, caring for her to the end. The soldiers bravely fought to the end. They gave the last full measure of devotion. The Christian martyr boldly confessed his faith to the end. We think of this especially as a kind of love that exists until it is brought to an end by death.

The word that’s translated as “end” — the word ‘telos’ — can certainly mean that. But it is also the word that Jesus speaks immediately before His death. He says, “It is finished!” Tetelestai! This word ‘telos’ also has the sense of a completion of purpose. It’s like when something works and functions exactly according to its nature.

Jesus loved the world in this way: Jesus loved according to His nature. He loved His own to the completion of His work on their behalf. He loved them to the fullest extent possible. He laid down His life for them. He spent all that He had. Every ounce of strength. Every drop of blood. Every part of Him is offered to the Father. Nothing is held back. He has fully paid the debt of sin. His work of accomplishing salvation is complete. He has entirely satisfied the Father’s wrath. His love for us has reached its objective. So, on Good Friday, Jesus says, “It is finished.”

Even so, our Lord’s work on our behalf is not over. His love continues. He does not continually sacrifice Himself for the sins of the world, but He continually brings us the benefits of that once-for-all sacrifice. So it was at the time of the Passover, when Jesus knew that it was time to be sacrificed to the Father, that Jesus loved His own to the end. Tonight’s Gospel sets that love before us.

It’s clear from what Jesus says in the middle of this Gospel that Jesus is not instituting a Sacrament of Foot-Washing. It’s evident from what Jesus says to Peter: “What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.” Simple foot-washing would be readily understood by Peter and all the disciples, so there must be a deeper meaning. Jesus goes on to say: “If I do not wash you, you have no share with me.” Jesus speaks as though this washing has something to do with Baptism.

Then He says: “The one who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but is completely clean. And you are clean, but not every one of you.” Jesus says they have already been washed, yet they need a cleansing. We could say it this way: they have all been Baptized, but they need their sins forgiven. They have received the forgiveness of all their sins in Holy Baptism, but they have since defiled and desecrated their conscience. They need a cleansed conscience because of their sins.

There’s something deeply personal about your sins. Especially the ones you don’t want others to know. The things that you wish were buried forever so that no one could ever find them out. The things that you have done that you wish you could forget. Now imagine that someone was coming over to you and removing each one from you, one by one. For each sin — for each of your deep, dark secrets — He reaches right into your soul, grabs onto what was bothering you, and pulls it out. To have some fellow person see all the ways that I had messed up my life and hurt others —.

Not only might it be painful, it would feel shameful. It would be embarrassing. This, I think, is a little taste of what Peter is going through. Jesus, Peter had confessed, is the Son of the Living God. Peter, along with James and John, had seen Jesus transfigured and shining with divine light. Peter had witnessed Jesus feed thousands, heal the sick, raise the dead, comfort the distraught — and now it’s Peter’s turn to be on the receiving end of Jesus’ mercy.

But Peter doesn’t like it. He isn’t comfortable with Jesus getting that up close and personal. It’s not just that Jesus is washing Peter’s dirty and smelly feet. — that he sees Peter’s toe jam or dirty nails. There’s something deeper at play. Peter, it seems, wants a Jesus that stays at arms’ length. He likes having Jesus near, but he doesn’t want Him to be too close. It’s like what Peter said when Jesus called him as an apostle in Luke chapter 5: Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.

Maybe Peter had some secret sin he was embarrassed for Jesus to see. Maybe there were some sins that Peter wanted Jesus to leave alone. Maybe Peter was generally happy to be washed and cleansed, but there were some parts of his life he didn’t want cleaned: a grudge; a past sin that he was holding onto that gave him power over someone else; a lie that he had told that he wasn’t ready to accept responsibility for; some deviant desire he wanted kept secret. Whatever it was for Peter, he wasn’t very comfortable with Jesus poking around in his soul.

Maybe you’re eager to correct Peter. You silly disciple, don’t you know that when Jesus wants to do something for you, you should let Him do it? Jesus is doing this to help you! Why can’t you be like the other disciples? We don’t have any objections from the other disciples recorded for us. Not even from Judas, the Betrayer. Presumably Judas receives this foot-washing without objection. No fuss, no fight, no protest. Yet the Evangelist John tells us plainly and directly that Judas was not clean. As one of the Twelve, Judas had been washed by Jesus, but he remained unclean. Peter refused to be washed, yet cleansing would come only through the washing that Jesus gives. Peter voices his objections, but Judas just sits there, outwardly receiving what Jesus gives, but inwardly despising and resenting Jesus’ help.

They were both ignoring something. They were failing to acknowledge the kind of cleansing they needed. Because no matter how much they thought their lives were in order — no matter how much they pretended to hide from Jesus — still Jesus knew. He can see what their consciences really looked like. He sees how they have become defiled. He sees their lies, their guilt, their disordered desires. And He says: This sin you cannot clean or scrub away yourself. It has injured and disabled you. It has rendered you unable to love your neighbor. You are sick with sin. You can’t fix this sickness yourself. You can’t wipe your conscience clean yourself. You need to receive My cleansing.

Maybe you’re not that bothered by your sin. Maybe you think you can handle it yourself — that you have it all under control. Or maybe you’re not that bothered by your sin because you know that everyone has sin. Everyone has their own sin that they struggle with, so why should mine be any different?

But if you can think of some aspect of yourself or your life that you find embarrassing, then how much more ashamed ought you to be of your own sin? Your sinful heart is far, far more soiled than anything you can imagine. It’s worse than an open wound or a revolting infection. It’s worse than a house in disarray and a fridge overflowing with moldy food and a bathroom that reeks.

This is what Jesus is saying to His beloved: Your heart is sick. It has a deadly infection. If I do not treat your infection, you will die. You must receive the cleansing that I give you. Otherwise you will not be clean, and you will have no share with me.

In response, it’s as though Judas says, No, no Jesus. You’re wrong. You can take everyone else’s sin, but not mine.