It’s funny how memory works sometimes. I remember distinctly a time in my childhood; It would have been around 1981 or so, just before The Empire Strikes Back was to be released in theatres. There was a lot of hype about the film, the sequel to Star Wars, coming out. Everyone was talking about it. My parents, knowing my proclivities towards spacemen and wizards, were making their plans for us to go see the movie. And, of course, the television was nothing but advertisements for the film.

One in particular stuck out in my mind. It showed some footage from the ice planet battle and had a voice-over say “and this time, Earth joins in.” At the time, I was trying to figure out how that would work with the whole “long time ago in a galaxy far far away,” but that was the nerd in me talking. I kept expecting a scene in the movie when I did get to see it where the Earthlings would be introduced into the rebellion. There wasn’t one. Turns out the ad was for some sort of side promotion, Happy Meal toys or some such, and I was ultimately disappointed.

Not sure why I remembered that after all these years, but I remember my excitement about how maybe, just maybe, we’re a part of the story. There was a certain appeal to that idea, this grand saga and here we are being drawn into it.

Over the last six weeks, we have been hearing the tale of another grand saga, one grander by far than the fanciful imaginings of George Lucas’ mind. Our Lenten journey here at St. John’s has been about the story of God and his relationship to his creation. It began with Adam and Eve and their fall from grace, and we have followed along through the centuries has God has worked to remedy the problem they created. We saw the destruction of the flood and God’s promise that he would find a better way to deal with human sin. We heard the covenant to Abraham, saw God work to protect those covenant people in their trials, and then at last we came to Jerusalem where a carpenter’s son was proclaimed Messiah and heralded with palm branches and praises.

But as we tell the tale, as we hear of God’s mighty works of love and mercy, we might also like my eight year old self begin to wonder when we become a part of the story. When is it our turn to play our part, to be grafted into these grand tales of love and salvation?

Tonight is when that happens, and unlike my former self whose confusion over an advertisement led to disappointment, this is real. The torch is passed to us. A purpose given to us for the sake of God’s plan for the whole world. The next steps to be taken are ours.

You see this happening when you read the tales of Jesus with his disciples on the final Thursday evening. We know the particulars of the stories well: Passover dinner, the sharing of bread and wine as future reminders of God’s presence with us and Christ’s sacrifice for us, the washing of feet, the prayers on the way and within Gethsemane. But within all these pieces that make up the Maundy Thursday story, there is underlying theme. Here is where Christ passes his mission and ministry to his disciples.

We first see this theme in the institution of the sacrament. Jesus takes bread and wine, blesses them, shares them, and then commands the disciples to keep doing it so that they may remember. Remember what? Again, Christ’s presence and sacrifice for them. But that presumes two additional truths. One, that the disciples would remain together, that they would share meals together in the future. And two, that there be a need for such remembrance.

Why such a need? The foot washing gives us that answer. After this act of humble service, Jesus commends his disciples to do the same with those they encounter. Serve others. Love others. Simple commands, but oh so difficult to actually put into practice. When it is put into practice, the world responds with suspicion and disdain. Altruism is a lie, they say, so what’s the real angle? What do you really want? Or worse, how dare you serve those people? How dare you love the unlovable? The same challenges the world offered against Jesus himself will be thrown against his followers in the years to come.

And then the third clue, as Christ offers forth his high priestly prayer, he prays not just for the assembled disciples, but also for those who will believe because of their witness. He prays for all those throughout the generations to come who come to believe because of the work of those who follow Jesus. He prays for us.

A picture begins to emerge underneath all these parts of the story: a picture of a people who take Christ’s commands forth into the future. A picture of a people assembled together to remember and renew their strength. A picture of a people dedicated to love and service to others. A picture of a people determined to spread the story of God’s love and mercy to people who have never heard and to generations yet unborn. It’s a picture of the church. It’s a picture of us.

We come into the story on this night. We hear his command to love. We hear his promise to be present with us in the bread and the wine. We hear his loving prayer for our success in our mission. We are a Maundy Thursday people, commanded, sent forth, and supported for the sake of the world to come.

The church has so often forgotten this. We have fallen prey to the lures of the world in which we live, surrendered ourselves to anxiety and the lust for power. But the covenant that God made to Abraham was that his people would be a blessing to the world. And as we are now grafted into that covenant people by the events of this night, it is my hope and prayer that we go forth from this time to be a blessing. That we may love and serve our neighbor as Christ wished. That we may tell his story of a love so great that it died and rose again for all. That we may come together to uphold, support, and remind one another of who we serve and why.

This was Christ’s desire on this night so long ago. And now we are a part of the story. What happens next is ours to tell. May it be a story of blessing for all the world. Amen.