One morning, I was late for P.E. I must have been about 13. I ran into
the sports building, quickly changed into my kit and crept barefoot into the
gym where all my classmates were standing in line. I excused myself for being
late and hoped that would be the end of the matter.
But my P.E. Teacher Mr Rollinson, (we used to call him 'Rolo') looked at me eyes wide as saucers,
called me out to stand in front of the others and pointed at my feet. I looked
down and, to my shock, they were as filthy as I can ever remember them. It
looked like they hadn’t been near a bathroom in months.
I don’t know why; perhaps my shoes had holes in – or maybe I really
hadn’t washed for months – I was after all a teenage boy. But my feet were
inexplicably and undeniably dark brown. “Lambert! You come here into my nice
clean gym - late - and your feet are absolutely filthy! When was the last time
you washed them?”
In the stress of the moment, my mind went blank. I said, “I don’t know,
sir.” “You don’t know when the last time you washed was?!” he said. I
felt deeply embarrassed and humiliated as the whole class erupted with
laughter, pointing at me and making faces at my lamentable lack of personal
hygiene.
Let me read some verses from John 13.
“The evening meal was in progress, and the devil had already prompted
Judas... Iscariot, to betray Jesus. Jesus... got up from the meal, took off his
outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured
water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the
towel that was wrapped around him.”
I’ve never been one for foot washing services. You might have been to
one before: and if you have, chances are it took place on Maundy Thursday -
which is the day before Good Friday, that is to say today.
There won’t be any foot washing services this year though because even
though there might be plenty of hot water and soap, (which is to be greatly
encouraged) it wouldn’t meet social distancing requirements (which is bad) and
in any case every church in the land is locked shut.
There have been down the years some very moving foot washing services.
For many years, the Pope has taken a towel and humbly washed the feet of
someone in the Vatican - usually some trainee priest who happens to be in Rome
in Holy Week.
The cameras are always there... Wow, the top man stooping to perform
such a lowly task on a mere novice. But Pope Francis insisted when he became
Pope that he would wash the feet of homeless men, street urchins, Muslim
refugees and men doing life in prison. He took it to a new level.
When foot washing services are done in the way I just described I can
see they could be quite powerful. But I’ve been to a few in my time and...
well... there was something a bit lacking.
Everyone would scrub their feet so that they were hygienically immaculate
and give their toe nails a good pedicure, before putting on their best socks
and nice shoes so that when the vicar washes their feet the water looks
practically identical afterwards as it did before. It's all a bit of a charade.
Now, when Jesus washed his disciples' feet before reclining at the last supper,
he did not do it to institute a kind of annual liturgical tradition. The main
reason Jesus washed his disciples' feet was because, like mine that morning in
school, their feet were really dirty.
They had been walking in open toed sandals (no socks - they never wore
socks with sandals and nor should you!). The streets were unsurfaced, dusty,
grubby and insanitary. Everyone’s feet, as they reclined to eat, would be
sweaty, dirty, gritty and smelly. Unwashed feet would seriously put you off
your food.
So, Jesus rolls up his sleeves, ties a towel round his waist and begins
to wash 24 feet.
The second lowest-ranking servant untied the sandals. The lowest washed
the feet. John the Baptist said “l'm not worthy to untie his sandals” but Jesus
washed feet.
That's why Peter sees what Jesus does and says, “Lord, are you going to
wash my feet? Oh no, you shall never wash my feet.”
But Jesus answers, “If I don’t wash you, you can’t be part of what I’m
doing.” So he begins massaging each foot with his wet palms. Wiping surface dirt off with a cloth. Washing away all that sweat on the soles. Rubbing away all the grime between the toes. Applying a brush under the toenails. Rinsing grubby ankles with water...
When he finishes each pair of feet the water looks more like this.
Jesus isn’t instituting a new liturgy. That’s not what’s important. Jesus'
focus is on the attitude that the symbol points to, not the act in itself.
Verse 12. “When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his outer
cloak again and returned to his place. ‘Do you understand what I have done for
you?’ he asks them... ‘I have set you an example that you should do as I have
done for you.’”
In the hours before Jesus died, the Bible tells us about two bowls of
water. One was used by Jesus for washing others’ feet on the night he was
betrayed. The other was used by Pontius Pilate to wash his hands of Jesus.
There are only two bowls; if we do not embrace the way of humble service
to others it’s as if we wash our hands of Jesus and his message.
But Jesus ends this section in v17. “Now that you know these things,”
says Jesus, “you will be blessed if you… do them.” The word “blessed”
(makarios) means “happy” or “contented” or glad.
Jesus means here that looking after the practical needs of those you
live with, next door to, in your street and those on the end of the phone - in
his name and for his glory - is the pathway to finding true contentment.
Brief talk online, 9 April 2020
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