Selfie Check

A homily preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, April 2, 2015, Maundy Thursday.

Texts:  1 Corinthians 11:23-26, John 13:12-17, 31-35                                   

 

Do a quick Google search and you will find an impressive amount of research on what we call the “selfie.”  With the rise of social media, this practice of self-generated self-portraits has exploded and has given psychologists and sociologists all sorts of new fodder for exploring human personality, relationality, and communication.  Why do people take them?  Why do people post them?  Theories abound.  It’s a fascinating topic.  But for purposes of reflection tonight, I simply want to point out that the fact that we collectively take so many self-portraits means that we are looking at ourselves a lot.  And then we are putting our image out into the world.  But what is the “self” we see? What is the “self” that is getting shared?  The season of Lent is a time for us to really look at ourselves, to take stock of our lives and of our choices, to acknowledge what we have done and what we have failed to do.  One might call the whole Lenten enterprise a real “selfie check.”  Look at yourself, truly and deeply.  Take stock of what you are putting “out there” and why…

 

I’ll admit that I usually don’t share my true selfies—that is, the photos I take of myself alone.  I’ve got plenty stored on my camera roll.  But generally speaking, I look awful in them.  My face is lopsided and all the wrinkles show.  The bags under my eyes and everything that I so carefully try to disguise in my day-to-day life appear with a vengeance.  I don’t want people to see that stuff.  It’s hard for me to look at it myself.  And yet it is my true selfie, my true self, that Jesus sees.  It is your true self that Jesus sees.  Jesus sees all the blemishes and the scars, the laugh lines and tear stains… Jesus knows all about your accomplishments and also about your struggles and failures, about your deepest fears and your greatest hopes.  Jesus knows how you have hurt others and yourself and about the ways that you have shown care and generosity and love.  Jesus knows, Jesus sees…you.

 

And Jesus saw those with whom he gathered around the table so long ago.  He knew them and all that they had been through.  He knew what they had given up and what they had accomplished.  And he knew what they had done and what they would do.  // I try to picture what image Jesus would post of himself on this night…and I imagine that it would be one of those selfies that communicates a deep loneliness.  Because Jesus was alone even in the midst of his closest friends; he alone knew what was going on.  He alone saw the shadows that fell across the table, shadows in the form of betrayal, denial, death on a cross. 

 

Bearing the burden of this insight, Jesus stepped away from the table and began to give himself away.  Kneeling at the feet of the ones who would deny and betray him, he emptied himself, taking the form of a servant.  He who came from the very glory of God, stooped to wash the feet of his friends and the feet of his betrayer.  // 

 

And he acknowledges that they don't know what he is doing.  And then he makes it plain.  “I have just given you an image, a picture of myself, a real picture of what it means to be truly human.”…  “I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.”  And what is the picture?  What has he done?  He has humbled himself and served humanity in the most basic and menial way, washing their feet, handling the calluses and dust, the unsightly and the aches—all those things we so desperately want to hide—with his own hands.  Jesus, who humbly received this same gift from Mary who anointed his feet and wiped them with her hair, doesn’t ask the disciples to do anything that he hasn’t been willing to do himself.  …Jesus gives the disciples a picture of what love looks like, what true humanity looks like.  It is not filtered or overly protected, it isn’t self-serving or fearful or prideful.  Jesus reveals that to be truly and fully human is to risk everything for the sake of love, to serve others, to humbly receive care, to give oneself away. 

 

And this night we find ourselves gathered around the table with Jesus.  While, like me, you may not want to see or to share your true selfie, in the presence of the perfect love of God in Christ, all our imperfections are painfully visible.  Our true self is exposed.  And Jesus sees…Jesus knows, knows what you are capable of…the very worst and the very best.  Jesus sees all of you and loves you still.  Jesus sees the self that you are hiding and the self you are putting “out there” and the self that you can be.  And Jesus’ love reaches through all time and space to offer you and me not just an idea or an image, but real and intimate presence, God’s totally open heart, true love.  There’s nothing ironic or photo shopped or filtered about this loving presence of Christ.  It is flesh and blood, up close and personal, stripped bare. // 

 

Jesus Christ has invited you and ushered you into this place, kneels before you to hold your vulnerability and your shame and to forgive and heal you.  In the body and blood, blessed, broken, and given, Jesus feeds us with the very life and love of God, we take it into ourselves and become part of God’s life…and that means that we are part of one another’s lives.  As we gather around the table to receive the grace offered us through the broken body of Jesus, hear the words spoken to you, “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.”  We are called to hold the callused and the dirty, the unsightly and the aching of the world in our own hands.  It means that we are to offer ourselves to others—unsightly, scarred, and lopsided as we may be .  It means that even when you know the risks, even when you know what others are capable of, that you kneel and wash their feet anyway.