Thursday, April 17, 2014

Washing Feet (Reflections on Maundy Thursday)


Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, ‘Lord, are you going to wash my feet?’ Jesus answered, ‘You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.’ Peter said to him, ‘You will never wash my feet.’ Jesus answered, ‘Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.’ Simon Peter said to him, ‘Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!’ Jesus said to him, ‘One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.’ For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, ‘Not all of you are clean.’ After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, ‘Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them. Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, “Where I am going, you cannot come.” I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.’ (John 13:1-17, 31b-35)



Foot washing. It's the one Christian ritual which the Lutherans of my little parish in Northeast Philadelphia are a little squeamish about. But for me, I just love the drama of reenacting the events of Our Lord's passion. I think that our rituals have power—if we understand them, that is. What could better demonstrate the intimate relationship Jesus has with us and his call to servanthood better than washing someone's smelly feet?

Pope Francis has made a pretty big splash (no pun intended) in the news lately by the feet he's chosen to scrub down. Today, he washed the feet of elderly and handicapped individuals in an Italian nursing home. The most famous man in the worlds (or at least one of the most famous) has humbled himself before the feet of some of the most obscure and forgotten people in the society. Last year, the pontiff was even more outrageous when he washed the feet of teen offenders—some of whom were Muslim—in a juvenile detention facility.

Tonight, I'll wash the feet of eleven-year-old Kyle, who will be making his First Holy Communion at the Maundy Thursday mass. Kyle isn't exactly a juvenile offender (although he has a devilish enough gleam in his eye to suggest that he might have some potential in that department!), but he is a kid and I'm a middle-aged man who is his pastor and teacher.

And yet my baptism is no more special than his.

That's the point of the worship on this holy day. We are to recognize that there is no “least” or “greatest” in the Kingdom of God. All of us are called to be servants to each other and to the world. It's a celebration of Christ's injunction to love through sacrifice. We give up our own notions of self-importance or self-salvation.

Poor Peter (in tonight's gospel lesson) doesn't get this at first. He's still trying to micro-manage. He wants his Master to be an exalted person, and tries to “out humble” Jesus by refusing to let Jesus be his servant. When Jesus explains that they can never have the fullness of the relationship God has intended for them until Peter allows Jesus to serve him, he still tries to be in charge and directs Jesus how to wash him. Poor guy. He just doesn't yet get that it's not all about him.

But I feel for Peter. As one who spent many years of my miss-spent youth gleefully abusing alcohol, I had to come to the realization that I was pretty powerless over my own stupidity. I kept on blowing huge sums of cash trying to make myself feel like a big shot, risking my owns safety and that of others—to say nothing of endangering my health and my job and entering into some pretty toxic relationships. I finally had to come to a point where I could admit that I was a screw-up, I had no power to fix myself, and I needed someone else to help me.

I try to remember that when I eat the meal that Christ commanded us to eat in his memory. I've done nothing to save myself except give up and let Jesus do his work. And if I have the power to do anything at all in this relationship, it is only to try to emulate the humility Our Lord showed on his way to the cross.

I always wince just a little when, as I serve the wafer of Holy Communion and pronounce the words “the body of Christ broken for you,” the communicant responds with “thank you.”

Please don't thank me. I didn't hang on a cross for you. I'm just as messed-up and in need of grace as you are. Just let me be your servant. After all, Jesus commanded us to serve one another. He didn't suggest it or request it. He commanded it. And how can we refuse someone who gave us so much?

May God bless you during this Holy Season. Thanks for reading.

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