Sermon for Maundy Thursday

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

When my family and I first adopted our two cats, we didn’t see them for about a month. They hid down in the basement and would only come out after the noisy humans had all gone to bed.

That’s just how cats are:
If you try and chase them, they will look at you like, “You make poor life choices,” and then run away.
You can’t chase a cat into loving you back. You have to respect its boundaries, sit still, and let the cat decide if and when it’s going to come close to you. If you do that, it might, eventually, cuddle up to you.

Now, that’s not just about cats. It’s about us too. Because human beings, like cats, don’t open up unless they feel safe.

This is certainly true in our relationships with others, but it’s also true in our relationship with ourselves, and it’s even true in our relationship with God.

Tonight’s Gospel places us in a small room. Before the crowded spectacle of the cross and the empty tomb, this is a very quiet and intimate scene.

And it’s also deeply uncomfortable, because Jesus does something strange: He gets up from the table, takes off his outer robe, wraps a towel around himself, and then he kneels down to wash their feet. Not as a teacher giving a lecture. But as a servant. He comes uncomfortably close.

When he comes to Peter, Peter does what many of us would do: He resists.
He says, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”
It’s too much for Peter.
And Jesus doesn’t force him.
He doesn’t grab Peter’s foot and say, “You’re going to get this, whether you like it or not!”

Instead, he has a conversation.
He says, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”
Peter doubles down, “You will never wash my feet.”
And Jesus responds, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.”

Jesus doesn’t coerce Peter, but he’s honest about what’s at stake:
Because, at some point, if we never let ourselves be loved in ways that might make us feel uncomfortable, we miss the opportunity to be in an honest relationship.

Love meets us where we are…
and then it respectfully asks, “Can I come a little closer?”

I saw something like this play out years ago when I was in chaplaincy training.

In my training cohort, there was a resident who was very clear about their boundaries from the beginning—emotional boundaries, physical boundaries, what was okay and what wasn’t.

Someone else in the group kept trying to push past those boundaries… and it created a lot of tension.

But there was also someone in the group who took the boundaries seriously.
Who let things be what they were—and didn’t push or try to get more than what was being offered.
And over time, something shifted. Trust began to grow.
And one day, the person who had been so guarded was the one who initiated a hug with the one who had respected their boundaries…

Respect created trust, which made intimacy possible.
It wasn’t forced.
It was chosen.

And that brings us to tonight.

After washing the disciples’ feet, Jesus said to them, “I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you… If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.”

So, in a few moments, you’ll be invited forward to participate in a reenactment of Jesus’ foot washing ritual.
And I want to say this clearly:
You have options.

1. You can come forward and have your feet washed.
2. You can come forward and have your hands washed instead.
3. You can remain where you are and take it in with your eyes.

And here’s the most important moment in this ritual:
Not the moment when feet are getting washed, but the moment just before that, when you’re deciding which option you will accept.

Pay attention to what you’re feeling in that moment.
What’s happening inside of you?
Is it fear? Curiosity?
And then—after checking in with yourself—I want you to honor your boundary.
If it feels safe enough…
take one step beyond your comfort zone.
Not ten steps all at once.
Just one step.

Because love meets you where you are.
And it invites you to come closer.
But it never forces you.

This isn’t just about what happens here tonight.
This moment is a small picture of something larger:
It’s about how love works in the rest of your life.

There are places where you need to draw boundaries—and that is good.
Healthy boundaries protect what’s important.
But sometimes, we draw those boundaries farther out than they need to be. Instead of protecting us, they keep us from experiencing the love we want.

There are places where love is waiting, not demanding, but inviting us to come closer.

Maybe it looks like a conversation you’ve been avoiding.
Maybe it looks like telling yourself a hard truth about something that matters.
Maybe it looks like offering a small act of care where it would be easier to just look the other way.

Not a leap.
Just one small step.

Tonight, we begin with a ritual: A symbolic act where the deepest pattern of love is revealed.
But the real test is how we choose to live, after we leave this place.

Love meets us where we are…
and invites us to come closer.
The question is: What do we do with that? Will we take the next step?

Just like Jesus said, “If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.”