1 Corinthians 11:23-26
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
Psalm 116:1, 10-17
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
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.
Jesus said, "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."
Disney World is not the worst place to contemplate the washing of feet. After all, metaphorically, that's what every "cast member" at Disney World does every day--they serve the visitors, answering annoying questions, fastening safety belts, cleaning up the garbage and keeping the bathrooms spotless, while never once show annoyance, or sarcasm or any negative emotion. They call little girls princess and wish you a "magical day." It can be difficult to take, especially if, like me, you're a person who's had a lot of experience working in service industries. I find myself wanting to make sure every costumed employee knows that I understand what a challenging job it is, and how badly some of Those Other Tourists can treat them. I really want every employee of Walt Disney Wold to know that I'm not like all of the other people who just mindlessly walk by, never considering that they have lives. Of course, I can't do that, because the employees aren't really allowed to have visible personal lives. They give them up in service to creating a land of pure fantasy where crime, clutter, and hard work don't exist--or at the very least, are never seen. As far as fantasy worlds go, it's a pretty good one.
In a way, Jesus is doing something similar when he washes the feet of the disciples--through an act of service, he's helping them to begin to imagine a new world in which the most powerful have no power over others. The most powerful, in fact, are the ones who serve. Because we live in a post-Jesus world, we maybe don't contemplate as much as we should how much of a unreachable fantasy world that must have seemed like at the time. Love one another? That's it? What about the law, what about the whole Chosen People thing--people who are separated from the rest through our specialness?
I really identify with Peter in the footwashing story. I think he's a little baffled, and very uncomfortable with this new order of things. Often, we see his refusal to let Jesus wash his feet as evidence of his love and devotion to Jesus. It's worth pointing out, though, that the old system is kind of working for him. Sure, Jesus is the Messiah, and Peter needs to serve him and always be below him, but he's positioned pretty high up in the whole social group that they've got going. One of the three who was able to see Moses and Elijah, and the only other person, that we know of, who was able to walk on water (for a second or two), Peter must be pretty invested in the way things are. If Jesus is suddenly humbling himself and doing all this serving, what does that mean about Peter's future in the organization?
Today, two thousand years after Jesus took on the role of servant, there is a new set of rules about how to excel at being God's people, and many of us act like Peter all over again. We can all think of people in the church who keep it running. They organize the coffee hour AND run a Bible study AND serve on a couple of committees AND are always among the first people to greet newcomers. All of these things are wonderful, or would be, if you didn't get the sense that these people are keeping track in their heads, figuring out how very last they are making themselves, so they can be first later.
Part of washing people's feet--the part that can be the most challenging for those of us who excel at rule following--is giving up the privilege of being the ones who are the washers.
On Easter Sunday, those of us who are church people will arrive for services much earlier than usual, and we will still find people sitting in our chosen pews. We will mentally sigh, and grumble, and try to find a familiar face to sit near, because we want to celebrate Easter with other people who have put in the time during the rest of the year. It will be especially difficult for me, because I've grown up in church, but we aren't really well known in our current church, and I will want to spend most of the service explaining to our neighbors that we aren't among the Christmas and Easters, that we actually belong. But of course, we all belong.
If we look around at the dressed up families in their three-piece-suits and bonnets and ruffles, and wish that they wouldn't keep invading our spiritual home twice a year without putting in the time during Epiphany and Pentecost, we might do well to remember the gift that we receive on Maundy Thursday. Maybe instead of offering a prayer book and pointing out the right page, or putting extra emphasis on Lord, when we say, "The peace of the Lord," or any of the other dozens of subtle ways that church people have found to seem like they're helping when they're really marking territory, maybe we can just sit and worship together, enjoy each other's company, and allow anyone who offers to wash our feet.
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