by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector of St. James, Vicar of St. George
at Christ Church Episcopal-Trinity Lutheran Church, Sheffield, MA
Foot Washing is in both the Book of Common Prayer and the Lutheran Book of Worship. In fact it’s the Lutheran’s beautiful service we are using this evening for our liturgy. So since it’s in our prayer books, we can conclude this action of foot washing is important to the Church. And yet, it’s not an official “sacrament”. Now that puzzles me because it is an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace, and besides that Jesus told us to “do it”!
But I suppose it’s just as well it’s not considered a sacrament…If foot washing were called a sacrament of the Church, then just think about all the various standing liturgical commissions that would have had to have endless debates: Where to do it. Who could do it. When to do it. Exactly why we do it. If the water should be warm or cool. If the towels should be white or red or gold. Which foot should be washed first! And then, of course, church architects would have to figure out some special kind of drain for all that the dirty water! So this gracious act happily flies slightly under the radar of all that scrutiny, and we are left to do it in whatever way the Spirit moves us.
Now we’ve all come here this evening after our various long days with the stresses of jobs, homes, school work, or even Spring Break leisure. The concerns of the world are probably heavy in our hearts. We’re frightened by the unending wars, natural disasters, and economic instabilities that seem to compound daily. And as we gather here tonight, we probably bring a variety of opinions about how these things might be helped or resolved. Some of these ideas we might discuss here, others we probably do not.
And we come here tonight with concerns in our hearts for our friends and families.
Some are in pain, sick, and/or dying. Some are in transition or on the verge of new possibilities. Some are perhaps estranged from us. Some in this church tonight share our joys and burdens with us as close companions. Others have no idea.
And there are all our more practical thoughts about what needs to be done between now and when Easter Dinner’s on the table…and who will be at that table.
And then there’s our thoughts and feelings about being here together tonight…Lutherans and Episcopalians from four congregations joyfully sharing this very holy Maundy Thursday. Some of us have a lovely church building. Others of us are homeless, by circumstance or choice or a complicated mixture of these. Some of us here tonight have shared an earlier history. Some of that was joyful.
Some of it—not so pretty.
So we’re here this evening with all this (and more) going on inside us. We’re not unlike those first disciples that night at the supper and foot washing. They gathered there after their various busy days. They lived in a world of political and religious chaos. Both the Romans and the Jewish authorities were breathing down their necks because their teacher, Jesus, was such a threat to the established order. They were afraid. They didn’t understand. They disagreed sometimes. At least some of them clung tightly to the idea that their friend Jesus was the Messiah. They believed he would set things right. For them that meant he would overthrow the Roman oppressors. After all, that’s what happened in the Moses story. When God delivered their ancestors out of bondage in Egypt, the Egyptians were overthrown. That’s how they expected God to act. So they thought Jesus would reign as an earthly king, who would forcefully overthrow the Romans. Then they would be in the new king’s “inner circle”. So this band of 12, who knew Jesus better than anyone, mostly just didn’t get it! There were power struggles among them. Personal agendas and concerns. Hopes. Fears. Worldly aspirations. Strong opinions about the way things should have been, are, and will be.
On the night before he suffered, Jesus tries again to show them what he was really about. and he chooses to do it in an ordinary way with both actions and words. He removes his robe, ties a towel around his waist, takes a basin of water, and begins to wash the feet of the 12. This is a task normally and routinely done by a household slave when a dusty guest arrives. So when their master and lord Jesus does it, it transforms an ordinary gesture of practical hospitality into a revolutionary act. It’s an act of humility and self-emptying, and it epitomizes the paradox of the Gospel. Jesus, their teacher, lord, and master turns their hierarchical expectations upside down. He shows them the way of his Kingdom is not one of worldly power, prestige and control. It’s not one with military might. Instead it’s a Kingdom built on lowliness and self-sacrifice. To follow his example is to create a community of equals in which all are served—Faithful and unfaithful alike.
Remember John’s Gospel is careful to let us see that Jesus even washes Judas’ feet, although he knew he would later betray him. But for that time and moment all were at the table together being physically shown what following Jesus would require.
What’s required is nothing short of total surrender: Letting go of our resentments about past hurts and disappointments. Putting things right and letting go of our guilt about past wrongs. Letting go of our plans and ideas about the way we think things should be. Letting go of our cherished hopes and dreams about what the future will be like. The 12—and we—are called to this kind of radical self-emptying. We are called to do this so we can follow Jesus’ New Commandment…To love one another.
If we’re full of our own self and our own hopes, fears, ambitions, and agendas, then we need to protect these things. We are easily threatened. So our responses to others will often be ones of defense, anger, blame and resentment. These are not responses of gracious, spacious welcome, where we have lots of room to offer hospitality and love to all God’s people, no matter who they are. For me the inward grace of the foot washing is that it makes us vulnerable to one another. We become able to admit we need to be cleansed. We need to be forgiven. We need to be served. We need to be emptied out so that God can fill us with God’s love. I think the only way we can put down our swords, hurts, and resentments is if we are able to accept that we are—each and every one of us—God’s beloved one. If we can appropriate our belovedness, then our belovedness becomes the most important fact of our lives. We don’t need to protect or defend anything. So no matter who disappoints us or hurts us or threatens us in any way, we always have at our core that belovedness, which is the one thing that’s eternally essential to us. Our belovedness is the one thing that we can’t afford to lose.
I think that’s what Jesus was trying to show his disciples when he washed their feet…They are beloved, and their mission in the world is to help everyone know they are beloved as well. If we can live in that place of belovedness, then we don’t need to use force. We don’t need to feel threatened. We don’t need to blame anyone. We don’t need to let anyone hurt our feelings, because we have the one thing that we really need…GOD’S LOVE; and we will do the one thing we really need to do…LOVE OTHERS. May we do these things this night and always in remembrance that Christ died for us. Amen.
(Inspiration for this sermon came in part from Synthesis Maundy Thursay 2011 and also from the ideas of Henri Nouwen.)
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