Put yourself at the Last Supper. The meal has just begun. All of Jesus’ closest disciples are present—a rabble of people called out of fishing boats, tax collecting offices, brothels, and gangs—who followed him these three years through his long and winding road to Jerusalem. They are family now. Here they are seated at table during the Passover season. It is an explosive time, fraught and tense with religious expectations and fear of a Roman garrison. Yet the excitement of a palm waving parade into the city is still fresh. It is good to be here and good to eat together. And then Jesus does something shocking.
The Lord and Master strips down to his undergarments and gets on knees with a pitcher and bowl. He signals that he is going to do the filthy, shameful work of the lowest slave: washing the grimy, calloused feet of these disciples. These are people who have trod long miles in this dusty landscape. They have never used a pumice stone. Never had a pedicure. Their feet are the lowest part of their bodies in both the physical and metaphorical senses.
How must it feel to have your feet washed by the Lord of the Cosmos? To feel the person worthy of all praise and worship—Him—pouring warm water over your feet, scrubbing the dirt off, and toweling them dry?
Included in this group are both Judas and Peter. Jesus washes them both. He knew full well what was coming later that night and the following day. The first a traitor. The second unable to stay awake in his hour of need. Eager to fight but unwilling to suffer. Scared of literally carrying the cross that Christ would. Peter would deny him and abandon him to die without the presence of a friend he had done so much for. He washes their feet. And says, “you do not understand now, but you will understand later” meaning after his death and resurrection.
Then he tells them:
“Do you realize what I have done for you? …
If I, … the master and teacher, have washed your feet,
you ought to wash one another’s feet.
I have given you a model to follow,
so that as I have done for you, you should also do.”
Jesus only directly commands two other ritual actions: (first) when he instructs his followers to celebrate the Eucharist in memory of him and (second) when he tells us to baptize all nations in the name of the Trinity. Because of this, I have sometimes wondered if foot washing should be one of the Sacraments of the church. We tend to metaphorize Jesus’ words here. Yes, he meant that would should serve each other in ways large and small, to transform our lives with the work of charity and sacrifice.
Yet, there is something utterly transformative about washing another person’s feet in this ritual. For several years, I attended a parish where every person is invited to wash feet and to be washed. It takes a bit of courage to join in. Washing feet someone else’s feet is unfamiliar and uncomfortable. To let another person wash your feet is even more difficult—it is a very vulnerable experience. Most of us would rather be the one doing the washing. That’s a role we are comfortable with—being the helper, not the helped.
For our wedding eight years ago, my wife and I chose a song titled “The Servant Song” that captures this emotion.
Will you let me be your servant?
Let me be as Christ to you
Pray that I may have the grace
To let you be my servant too
The life of a Christian is about serving one another, but also allowing others to serve us. This is true especially but not exclusively in a marriage. Pray that we may let other serve us. If we don’t, it is easy to imagine that everything in our lives came from our own effort, hard work, and intelligence. Yet it is Christ who has washed our feet, who is serving us still. Every good thing comes from His willingness to empty himself and take the form of a slave. To be tortured and humiliated, abandoned, and nailed to a tree.
This year we will not be having a footwashing ritual in our Church. This is another thing that Covid has taken away. And yet, this may be another opportunity for something new. When the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed a few decades after Jesus, the Jewish people were confronted with a massive challenge to their religious practices. All of their prayers, sacrifices, and holidays had revolved around the Temple. They responded by moving their rituals out of the now ruined Temple and into their homes. You can see this today in their observance of the Sabbath and the Passover Seder.
My challenge to you is to wash your loved ones’ feet and allow them to wash yours. Like the Jewish people, deprived of their Temple, this is an action that you can perform in your own homes. You don’t need a priest or deacon or carefully scripted prayer. You just need water, a basin, a towel, and your own hands.
We will continue our Holy Thursday liturgy with the Eucharist, which Jesus instituted on this day. He told us, “do this in memory of me.” As we serve each other and wash each other’s feet, may we also do it also, “do this in memory of me.”
Comments
Post a Comment