Feet Can be Gross: Maundy Thursday

John 13: 1-17, 31b-35                                                             April 6, 2023

            Some people are weird about feet.  I have never been one of those people.  I can’t say that I get excited about foot washing, but it also doesn’t unnerve me as it does some people. However, there have been a few times in my life when the experience of having someone wash my feet was almost painful. Last year when I was in the hospital, I never got a shower. Because of the nature of the wound, they could not risk it.  I couldn’t put on the stupid hospital socks because I could not reach my feet, which meant I was walking barefoot. I was absolutely disgusting.   One night when I was complaining about my feet in particular, my husband offered to wash my feet. I said yes, but found myself overwhelmed and embarrassed by the experience (even though it was my husband of 17 years).  I felt conflicted in that I wanted clean feet, but allowing even my husband to touch my infected and gross feet was almost more than I could bear.  I wept as he washed my feet, and had to assure him that he wasn’t hurting me, these were different kinds of tears. 

              It wasn’t until that moment, that I fully appreciated the way that Peter must have felt when Jesus bent down before him with a basin of water and a towel. I am not saying I had the same emotions, but the intensity was similar.  In those days people wore sandals and the roads were not paved.  That meant that people often had dirty feet.  It was customary to have them washed before a meal or upon entering a home.  Typically the person who did the washing was a servant. If there wasn’t a servant, it was the woman of the house.

            There were all kinds of reasons why this action of Jesus should have confused and disturbed Peter.  His feet were actually dirty, a lot more dirty than his hands and his head (which he suggested Jesus wash).  And even if they were clean, it was still inappropriate for a man, any man to be doing this. Then when you add the fact that that wasn’t just any man, this was the Son of Man, the Messiah—well then things got really weird.  So Peter wasn’t too excited about what was about to be happen. 

            His reluctance is understandable, but the intensity of Peter’s reaction indicated something more than just discomfort.  It was fear.  What was the source of the fear? There are a lot of theories, as there often are.  Some think that Peter didn’t want Jesus to see that dirty, gross part of him. Perhaps it wasn’t just the physical dirt, but also weakness. Only a few verses later Jesus revealed that Peter would deny him.  I don’t think Peter knew that would happen, but perhaps, deep down, he knew he was capable of that.  And should he, a weak man, let an all-powerful God wash his feet? Peter was afraid that Jesus would see this weakness, which of course he did.         

            He didn’t need to be close enough to wash his feet to see the weakness. He had always known.  But he loved him anyways.  His love and his display of that love gave Peter strength---gave him enough strength to allow himself to be washed. Later that strength would fail him, but it would return after the resurrection.  Most of our weaknesses and sins are temporary.  We always have opportunities to redeem ourselves.

            The other thing that Peter feared was what this meant for Jesus.  This wasn’t merely an act of humility on Jesus’ part, this was an act of humiliation.  Between this action and all the comments Jesus had made about his impending death, Peter was afraid that this Jesus who seemed divine and otherworldly, might just die in one of the most humiliating ways possible.  But despite all those fears and questions that were rolling around in his brain and making it difficult for Peter to let his guard down and receive this gift of love---despite all of that, Peter allowed Jesus to humiliate himself in front of him. He allowed Jesus to see the ugliness of his feet, the weakness of his faith.

            In the Episcopal Church, we emphasize the importance of the last supper and communion.  Every Sunday we say these words that come from our reading in 1^st Corinthians and from Matthew, Mark and Luke: "Take, eat: This is my Body, which is given for you. Do this for the remembrance of me." And "Drink this, all of you: This is my Blood of the new Covenant, which is shed for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins. Whenever you drink it, do this for the remembrance of me."  Yet on the night we focus on the story of the Last Supper, we read from the Gospel of John, which doesn’t include these words.  In John, Jesus never presents bread and wine as his body and blood.  Instead, John tells the story of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples.  Jesus then tells them that he has set an example in the washing of the feet and they should do likewise.  Yet we only do it once a year and many churches never do it.

            I did some research and tried to figure out why this was and I could not find anything except from a few people who said that we really didn’t need to wash feet anymore since we wear shoes and bathe regularly.  But I think what it really comes down to is that it’s too intimate.  It requires too much humility and humiliation.  When I was in the hospital, I actually needed my feet washed, but that made it that much worse. It’s so hard to let someone see a part of you that you are not comfortable with. Yet in the end, it was probably one of the most beautiful moments I’ve had with my husband.  Of all the amazing things people did for me when I was ill, that was when I felt most loved and it actually hurt a little, to receive love when I felt weak and unlovable. 

            Jesus told his disciples that everyone would know they were his disciples by how they loved one another.  I think the part of love we can often overlook is how we receive the love of others and of God.  It can be challenging to receive love because it makes us so incredibly vulnerable and no matter how much we talk about it, we still don’t like to be vulnerable.  The beautiful thing about the practice of washing feet is that it forces us to be vulnerable, which is why I encourage you to try it.  I know that many of you won’t.  That’s ok.  It might be too far out of your comfort zone.  If you don’t, I want you to think about ways you can receive God’s love and the love of others.  Consider what might be stopping you from opening yourself to that love and acceptance. Pray about it and then find some small way you can move out of your comfort zone, because in a way, that is what our faith does.  It’s constantly pushing us beyond what we are comfortable with.  That’s what Jesus did for his disciples and that is what he continues to try to do for us. 

Maundy Thursday: March 29, 2018

John 13:1-17, 31b-35                                               

            For many years the pope of the Roman Catholic Church has been washing feet on Maundy Thursday. Before 2013, the mass was held in St Peter's basilica or the basilica of St John.  However, in 2013 a recently consecrated Pope Francis washed the feet of 12 teenagers in a juvenile prison. Previous popes typically washed the feet of clergy.  Since Pope Francis was elected, he has washed feet in prisons, a center for asylum seekers, and a home for the elderly and disabled.  This year, he will once again wash the feet of 12 men in a maximum security prison. 

            Pope Francis has been determined to wash the feet of people of different faiths, genders, and ethnicities. In these 5 years, he has washed the feet of convicted felons, women (which was previously unheard of), Catholics, Orthodox Christians, Evangelicals, Muslims, a Buddhist and a Hindu person. For the pope, the symbolic act of foot washing is not merely an act of humility, it is an act of love and bringing people together. 

            If you look at the verses we read for the Gospel reading, you will see that there is a huge part that is skipped over.  We go from verse 17 to verse 31. We go from Jesus washing the feet of his disciples and telling them to do likewise to the verses about Jesus being glorified and then the love commandment, “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.”  It’s a sweet gesture, washing the feet of his 12 disciples, his inner circle.  It was gesture of humility and love.  No one likes to wash feet, so it is nice that he would do this for his friends.  If we did not read verses 17 to 31, we could leave it at that, a nice gesture by Jesus for his friends.

            However, if you read those middle verses, this symbolic act becomes much more radical.  In these verses Jesus told the disciples that one of them will betray him.  He told them by saying, “It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread…” It was Judas, the man whose feet he had just washed, the man with whom he had shared a meal. 

            When Jesus confronted Judas, Judas left to accept the bribe and betray his friend.  It was only after that confrontation when Jesus told his disciples, “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.”  Right after that command, he told Peter that he would deny him.  These are the bookends of this commandment to love one another, one friend who will betray him and one who will deny him. 

            What Jesus was showing was that despite what these 2 men would do…Jesus would still love them.  Even knowing what would happen—that one would betray, one deny and the rest abandon him—he still washed their feet and told them he loved them. That is what makes this more than a sweet and sentimental gesture.  This is not just about how we treat our friends and family.  It is about how we treat the people who have hurt and betrayed us. 

            In 1981, Pope John Paul II was shot 4 times.  The man was arrested and the pope not only forgave him, he visited him in prison. He then advocated for his release many years later. The would-be assassin left prison in 2010 and made news when he visited the grave of the late pope and left flowers.   That is an extreme example of loving those who have hurt us, but it’s a pretty good example. 

            While most of us have not been shot or turned in to the police for crimes we did not commit, we all know what it is to be betrayed or abandoned.  We all know what it feels like when someone we love says one thing and acts in an entirely different way.  Imagine what it would feel like to wash their feet, or maybe just look them in the eye and smile. 

            At another church I served, I had someone who yelled at me after the service.  He really yelled and did it in front of other people.  I knew it had nothing to do with me. It was something else going on in his life, but it hurt me and made me angry.  The next week he came up for communion and I thought “please don’t let him be on my side of the rail”---but he was of course because God likes to challenge us.  I would like to tell you that I gave him communion and my hurt and angry feelings just went away.  But they didn’t.  I was still mad.  But I smiled and I kept smiling.  It took a couple weeks, maybe even more, but eventually those smiles became genuine and I got over it. 

            That’s the thing about symbolic gestures, they don’t always represent exactly what is going on inside of us, but they do represent what we hope will happen, what we hope we will become.  If we continue to try, eventually the symbolic gesture becomes more than a gesture. It becomes real.  Jesus was upset with Judas. He called him out in front of the disciples.  He did the same thing with Peter. But he still shared the meal. He still washed their feet. 

             

            We do more than foot washing at this service.  As we do every Sunday, we read the confession together.  Typically before launching into the confession, I like to give a moment for everyone to silently consider the sins they have committed. Tonight I will give us all a little longer to consider what sins are keeping us from loving people.  Then we will share communion together. We will crowd around the altar in this rather tight space and we will accept the gift that God has given us, the same gift that he gave his disciples, a love that knows no boundaries, a love that is meant to unite instead of divide.  

            After that, the altar and this whole chancel area will be stripped.  It will be laid bare, which is what we are all trying to do before God.  Then finally when you leave, I encourage you to drop a coin in one of the buckets.  The coin represents a way we have betrayed, denied or abandoned God.  When we drop the coin, we leave that sin behind and we journey toward Easter with the knowledge that we have moved this much closer to loving others as God loves each one of us.

Year B, Maundy Thursday April 2, 2015

Humiliation Galore

John 13:1-17, 31b-35                                                             

            I was reading a book recently and the author (Richard Rohr) said that he prays to God for one humiliation every day.  I enjoyed most of the book and it   was not an easy book to enjoy. It was about suffering and what we can learn from suffering.  When I got to the part about humiliation, I started to struggle with the book a little more.  I understand that humility is a wonderful trait to have and it is certainly one that is important to have as Christians, but humiliation?  The author’s perspective was that humiliation is an opportunity to learn something about who we are, deep down underneath it all—underneath the veneer that we hope other people will see.  The way that we respond to humiliation can say a lot about who we are.  We can respond by getting angry and lashing out at people.  We can shut down and give up. Or we can take a step back and ask ourselves why that thing humiliated us and what it means for us as followers of Christ. 

            On my first Christmas as a deacon, I read the Gospel for the first time.  I had practiced…a lot.  I said the word Quirinius (Governor of Syria) about 100 times.  I was ready.  But for some reason I could not get my microphone to work.  I spoke as loud as I could but I was convinced that no one heard me, which meant no one heard the Gospel.  I was sure I had ruined Christmas and the rector would hold this against me forever.  I know it does not sound humiliating, but it was for me. That was all I could think of for the rest of the service.  As you can imagine, it turned out fine.  I was loud enough and Christmas was not ruined. 

            In some ways, knowing that it was not a big deal hurt my pride more.  My big moment and it did not make a difference to anyone whether the mic was on or not.  In the end, it was an important lesson for me as an ordained person.  It reminded me that it is not about the person speaking; it is about the words and who those words come from.  I could give you any number of examples of little humiliations that I have learned from…but definitely not one a day.  That seems extreme.

            When we talk about Jesus, especially in the washing of the feet, we talk about humility.  We don’t normally talk about humiliation, perhaps because that word has such negative connotations.   He was and is the most powerful entity in the world and he constantly had to defend himself and explain his motivation and his actions.  He had to let other people tell him what to do.  He let his own disciples deny, betray and abandon him.  For most important and powerful people, any one of those things would be a huge blow to their ego.  It did not seem to faze Jesus, at least not in terms of his pride.  In fact, it was as if he welcomed these opportunities for humiliation.  For him, they were not humiliations. They were opportunities to display love, a love that was sacrificial, a love that was not about what he would receive in return. 

            I have often pondered what the difference between humility and humiliation is.  Even when you look it up, you get different interpretations from different sources.  Most people would say that humility is a good thing while humiliation is almost entirely bad. What I find interesting, is that they have the same Latin root. The meanings are not really that different.

            The Gospel of John is unique in many ways.  In the scene describing the Last Supper, Jesus does not take bread and tell the disciples that this is his body.  He does not take the wine and tell them that this is his blood.  Instead, he used an entirely different representation of love. He took off his outer robe and tied a towel around his waist.  Then he washed his disciple’s feet.  This in and of itself, is humiliating enough.  Servants were the ones who were supposed to wash feet.  But here he was, God in human form, washing the feet of his disciples.  What made it worse was that he was washing the feet of Peter who he knew would deny him.  He was washing the feet of Judas who would betray him in a matter of minutes.  He knew exactly what was going to happen.  He knew that all of these people would turn their backs on him.  He chose to wash their feet.  Was that humility or humiliation?  In retrospect it was an act of humility.  Yet most people, had they been in that time and place and known the circumstances, would have perceived it as humiliation.  What kind of God kneels before peasants and washes their grimy feet? It was also humiliating for the disciples.  This was a man who they respected and admired and now he was touching their feet.  In doing so, it was as if he was seeing through the veneer.  He saw the unclean parts of their soul.  I know this discomfort can’t be that hard to imagine for those of you here tonight.  Very few people come up to have their feet washed.  It’s embarrassing. It’s uncomfortable. I get it.

            Yet for Jesus, this was such an important act, that he asked his disciples 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.”  This is what Jesus told his disciples.  He did not ask them to drink wine and eat bread.  He asked them to wash one another’s feet.  It was not enough to understand the idea of love or humility.  “…you are blessed if you do them.”

            What liturgy allows us to do is to experience parts of our faith in a more tangible way.  We don’t just say things.  We do them.  So you can ponder humility, humiliation and love, or you can wash someone’s feet or have your own feet washed.  And if you are just not going to do it, think of another way you can humiliate yourself in the next 24 hours.  Don’t just think about it.  Do it.  Then learn from that humiliation and remember that our Lord Jesus Christ died in one of the most humiliating ways a person could die. Most other things seem pretty small in comparison.