Have you ever had a visceral reaction?

In Jesus’ time, people didn’t say “I’m heartbroken.” They said, “My liver is on fire.” Back then, Greeks and others didn’t say that emotions came from the heart, or the head. They said emotions came from their intestines. They had “gut feelings.” They said that they felt anger and sor-row in their viscera — they had “visceral reactions.”

To the gospel writer Matthew, the resurrection of Jesus is earthshaking. The Greek word is seismos, and means shaking, shock, earthquake. In seismic events, nothing is certain. Nothing is the same. Nothing is stable. 

A brilliant, terrifying angel rolls back the stone and sits on it. As if to mock the empire that rolled the stone there in the first place. As if to mock the power of death itself.

Today truth is elusive. What to believe? Was it generated by AI? Is it a downright lie? Is it fake news? If it’s on the internet, if it’s shared on social media, can you trust it? If you keep telling people an untruth, are they cajoled into finally accepting it?  

In tonight’s Gospel, Jesus lays aside his garments, wraps a towel around his waist, pours water into a basin, and begins to wash the disciples’ feet. I wonder what the disciples thought when they saw their teacher kneeling down like a servant, preparing to wash their dusty, worn, calloused feet. Foot washing with Jesus wasn’t like a luxurious pedicure at the spa. It was dirty work. A messy act of love.