Why is this night different?

April 17, 2025

Maundy Thursday

John 13

(The context of this sermon was 100% written

in Canada by a human)

In Jewish culture, a child asks four questions on the Feast of the Passover. These questions provide the impetus for answering the bigger question: “Why is this night different from all other nights?” Jewish people throughout the world retell the story of the Exodus and celebrate the escape of their ancestors from slavery in Egypt. It is a time when they “tell the story to their children, and their children, and their children’s children, so that everyone will know” how God acted in human history to bring freedom to their oppressed forebears.

They tell of the gruesome, bloody death that swept over Egypt. The people of God ran for their lives under the fire and cloud of God’s own protection, with Egyptian soldiers hot on their heels. They remember the waters that miraculously parted to ensure people’s safe passage out of Egypt, and then reconnected to stop their pursuers. The parting of the Red Sea is a story we have all grown up with, a powerful tale of God’s act of intervention.

Now we move ahead, much farther in our faith stories. The baby born in the stable has become a man, the teacher has shared his lesson, the healer has delivered compassion, the rabbi has inspired faith, the devil has been outwitted, and now the journey has come here, to the open gates of Jerusalem and inside.

And again, we ask the same question: “Why is this night different from all other nights?”

On this night, we find the disciples and Jesus alone in a room, eating what will be their last supper together. And we will know there is a betrayer in the room. We will see Jesus bless the food and the wine and enjoy the company of his friends. And we will watch him kneel before them and wash their feet, an act of the ever-loving servant leader as the sun sets and night comes on.

On this night we talk about Jesus’s commandment to love, as we consider the models that he left us. We remember how he took old, familiar things and gave them new meanings for the first time. Foot-washing had simply been a kindness to barefooted travelers after walking for hours on hot sand.

But on this particular Passover night, it became a symbol of love expressed in kindness and in service to others. Recalling that the Altar represents Christ’s body, we strip it bare just as he was stripped of his clothing before he was crucified. Remembering his death on the Cross, we wash the Altar as a dead body being prepared for burial.

But unlike what happened in the Garden of Gethsemane, we do not leave him to pray alone on this night. We surround him with beauty and keep him company as we do what he did, praying for the strength to do what God asks of us as we live on, in a cruel, destructive, and pain-filled world.

“Why is this night different from all other nights?”

For generations people had seen bread and wine raised in a Sabbath blessing to a great and faithful God. But on this night, the same bread and wine became the Body and Blood of One whose death gives life. This ritual offering becomes a new act of sacrifice and redemption—the deepest expression of giving.

And the amazing thing about this gift is that it gives life without destroying life. There is no wage to be paid; there are no slaughtered bodies, no drowned souls. We gather to give thanks for the gift of a God who forgives us, restores us, and calls us to join in the creative act of “making all things new.”

And so it is that, on this night, which is so different from all other nights, we are called not only to be witnesses, not only to remember, but also to carry the touching, healing, and transforming message out into the world that God loved enough to do what had to be done.

Tonight Jesus is calling us to continue the great legacy, to keep it alive by finding new ways to wash feet and nourish bodies and give comfort to people who are in pain. Jesus is what keeps us moving forward with sponsorship and resettlement of refugees, with support for one another as Canadians in this time of trial, and by collecting for the foodbank, and all of the things we do in this place to try to make a difference in the world -to try to bring new life to it. Renewed by the presence of Jesus with us and within us, we take seriously the divine call to bring Good News, to help the hungry, the homeless, the forgotten and the lost.

“What makes this night different from all other nights?” the child asks. And the answer is: everything and, at the same time, absolutely nothing. The story is woven into our faith, but without action it is only a story. We may tell the tale of Jesus’s striving for peace and justice, but it is only words, unless we keep up the striving.

The lesson of this evening is that no matter what the world’s response may be, the wisdom of the gospel survives, the presence of Jesus persists. Let us trust this night, just as the people walking into the parted Red Sea trusted in God. Let us find courage this night, just as the disciples knew the prophecy was coming true. Let us give thanks for a Jesus who would, on this night, kneel before us and show us, for yet another time, how to serve with compassion in the world. Let us always remember the story of this night, for it is different from the days that preceeded it. But Jesus was who he always was, the teacher and healer and rabbi, caring for his flock as one day ended, and the most fateful day of his life on earth was about to begin. Amen.