Maundy Thursday Instruction April 13, 2006

Technically speaking, tonight concludes Lent. What we will do in a few minutes will provide a “bookend” to what we did on Ash Wednesday. On that evening, six weeks and one day ago, we marked the beginning of Lent with the mark of ashes, in the shape of the cross on our foreheads, and the words, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” In other words: “Life is fleeting. And so, pay attention to those sins, to that brokenness, to what it is that separates you from God. Return to God before you return to dust.”

Tonight’s first liturgical action brings dramatic conclusion to that portion of the Lenten journey we’ve been on. We will confess our sinfulness. We will hear words of forgiveness, from God. And then you will have opportunity to come forward, to kneel at the altar rail, to feel the touch of hands on your head, and to hear words of forgiveness spoken to you individually.

The words to be spoken, according to the liturgy book, are these: “In obedience to the command of our Lord Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins.” (“Sins” – plural.) I don’t know what Pastor Einarsen will say, if you come up to his half of the altar rail! (He’s not as much of a rebel as I am.) I will disobey the liturgy book! I will speak the word “sin,” in the singular. That’s something that I always do. Every Sunday morning, in fact, during the Brief Order for Confession and Forgiveness, I always say “sin” rather than “sins.”

I have several reasons for that. Using “sins” (plural) makes us think that sinfulness is “naughty things that we do.” But then, sin simply becomes moralism. Rather than entry into divine mystery, religion becomes a set of rules, of right and wrong. The effect of that type of religion is to make you feel bad about yourself – because, can you “do good” all the time? If religion is only a set of rules to be followed, even if you “do good” 99 times out of a hundred, then you’ll beat yourself over the head because of that one time that you “did bad!”

But here’s the other side of the coin. How bad are you and I? If we are sinful only to the extent that we do “bad things,” then are we really sinful? I mean, you and I: we’re nice people, right? In fact, we’re good people! Don’t others consider you to be pillars of the community, because you do so many good things for so many people?

Perhaps you’re not really sinful – certainly not when compared with people who do really bad things! Perhaps, for instance, you have a hard time seeing yourself in the words of Psalm 51, which we use twice during Lent:

Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your lovingkindness;
in your great compassion
blot out my offenses.
Wash me thorough and through
from my wickedness,
and cleanse me from my sin….
Indeed, I have been wicked from my birth,
A sinner from my mother’s womb.

I’m sorry, but I look out, and I do not see many people who spend much time doing wicked things! And as for that last verse that I read: how many of you have held a newborn and thought to yourself, “What a wicked, sinful baby this is”?

And so, that’s another reason why I don’t say “sins” (plural) – because, for most of us, the “bad” things that we do are pretty innocuous and boring. If you and I are sinful only to the extent that we do “bad things,” then, for most of us, sinfulness is inconsequential and insignificant.

But our sinfulness is not so trivial. That’s because it is not primarily what we do. It is, rather, our condition of being. The “bad things” that we do are simply actions that arise out of that condition of being.


Our sinfulness is our condition of brokenness from God.

Let me try to say what I mean. How often are you absolutely, crystal clear about God’s purpose for your life? You do have glimpses of such clarity, don’t you, at times? But we are broken from God; that’s what sin means! A sign of our condition of sin is that clarity only comes in glimpses!

How consistent is your trust in God? Again, you can point to instances when you’ve acted in great trust that God would provide for you – even when there was no earthly evidence that that was true. But how often are you unable to trust in God’s love and grace? How often are you broken from God in that way? Here’s how I experience that brokenness, on pretty much a daily basis. I wake up nearly every morning, somewhere before 4:30 and 5:00 (which means much earlier than I need to wake up) – and as soon as I come to consciousness, my mind is racing: with worries. And usually my mind is full of worries over stupid stuff! Things that aren’t worth worrying about!

That early-morning worrying is a daily demonstration of my lack of trust in God. Because who is in control? Who is running the show? Why, then, do I wake up with the frantic notion that it is all up to me? Why am I not able to awaken peaceably, trusting that God will provide what is needed for this new day, in grace?

It is because of my sinfulness that I am not able to be trusting of God’s grace. It is because of my brokenness from God. I am in bondage to sin and cannot free myself. All I can do, in those first moments of consciousness (when it’s still dark outside!) is to pray the Jesus prayer from the Russian Orthodox tradition: “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.” And, after a number of repetitions of that prayer, spoken slowly, while breathing slowly, I come to relax again, and I allow God to embrace me with God’s arms of grace. And I experience eternal life – which has already begun!

It is for that God-pleasing reason that you and I assemble tonight, in this place, to conclude Lent, and to enter into the worship of The Three Days: through Good Friday and the Easter Vigil, to the joyous celebration of Easter. We assemble to experience God’s grace, and to remember, in dramatic ways, the source of that grace: through the death and resurrection of Jesus the Christ.

The next thing we will do tonight is to enter into Corporate Confession and Forgiveness. But first, let’s sit in some silence.

Be silent.
Be still, alone, empty before God.
Say nothing.
Ask nothing.
Be silent.
Let God look upon you.
That is all.
God knows.
God understands.
God loves you with an enormous love.
God only wants to look upon you with love.
Be silent.
Be still.
Let God love you.


Pastor Andy Ballentine
St. Stephen Lutheran Church
Williamsburg, Virginia