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April 5, 2007
Maundy Thursday
St. Edmund’s, San Marino
The Rev. Rob Fisher
Maundy Thursday Text: John 13May the words of my mouth, and the meditations of our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer Amen.
I have been reflecting on the idea of footwashing this week, anticipating tonight.
One thought that I have had is how important feet used to be. In the days of Jesus and his disciples, people walked from place to place. To wash a person’s feet was to wash a critically important part of that person’s body—the part that gave mobility. Feet were surely very dirty from all the use, too.
And I wonder, what is the equivalent in our day and age?
I suppose it would be for us to wash each other’s cars!
No, of course that is not it. Not even close.
The washing of feet is a very intimate act. It is a physical act of caring.
Jesus could have merely spoken about love, but he did not merely speak of it. He took action. He bent down and washed the feet of his friends. His action showed his love, far beyond what mere words could have conveyed.
When you wash another person’s feet, you come into close contact. You can actually feel the warmth of that person’s skin. Feet have to be tough to do their job, and so when you wash someone’s feet, you can feel the calluses from that person’s lifetime of walking. Some of us have more calluses than others.
And at the same time, you can feel the softness of the skin of the arch, a reminder of how our bodies are surprisingly fragile.
Washing the feet of another is hard to do. But perhaps it is harder to allow another person to wash your feet. There is the fear of exposing imperfections. Of seeming vulnerable, or unclean.
I was speaking to someone today who cannot be here tonight because she is in the hospital, and she laughed with me about how she once had her feet washed at a Maundy Thursday service. She felt that she had to get a pedicure beforehand!
Then when the hour of footwashing arrived, and she and everyone else were taking off their shoes, she saw that one of the other people had a big hole in one of his socks.
Our feet keep us connected to the ground in more ways than one. They are tough and fragile, and imperfect.
Lest we forget, Jesus was fully human like we are. He had a body that was fragile, too. In just a few days after he washed the disciples feet, his own fragile feet would be nailed to a cross during his horrible death.
Before he left his friends, Jesus commanded them—and us—to love one another, and to wash each other’s feet.
When we sit with another person who is suffering through any kind of pain, we are washing that person’s feet.
When we listen to another person tell what is on his or her heart, we are washing that person’s feet—feeling the tough places, the calluses and scars from hard experiences, and the soft places that are still sensitive.
When we do this, we do what Jesus set for us as an example. We are loving each other as he loves us. — Amen.
© St. Edmund's Church