Maundy Thursday April 13, 2006

Feet are funny things.  Feet are essential for us to function normally in the world.  They provide us with a solid foundation, and propel us from place to place. The well being of our feet often mirrors our overall well being—when our feet hurt it impacts every bit of our being—we are likely to be grumpy and out of sorts.  Feet also have symbolic value, most often signifying strength and independence.  We speak approvingly of one who can stand on her own two feet and we look for one who is struggling to get back on his feet. Conversely, sitting at the feet of someone is seen as an expression of inferior status or servitude, or as a worshipful pose. 

Of all parts of the human anatomy with exception of perhaps our genitals, feet seem to be the part that people can be most squeamish about—we don’t want others to look too closely at our feet and certainly not to touch them—witness the embarrassment with which some of us react when we are invited to present our bare feet to others to be washed tonight.  Some cultures are even fussier about feet than we are—in Korea, for example, one is not allowed to even show one’s toes.

It’s true that our feet can show a lot of wear and tear.  Sometimes they stink.  They are not always pretty.  But our discomfort dealing with feet still seems out of proportion to those realities.  However in tonight’s gospel reading and in tonight’s liturgy  we can’t avoid feet—feet that are undoubtedly worn and calloused and dirty, but feet that are handled with loving gentleness.  And it is this handling of feet—calloused, dirty, smelly feet—that models for us the life to which Jesus calls us—a servant life.

In tonight’s gospel, we find Jesus with his disciples in Jerusalem.  They’ve come to celebrate the Passover, with thousands of other Jews, but Jesus knows that more than the Passover will be taking place in the days to come.  And so, once again, Jesus tries to show his followers what will be expected of them when he is gone, and he does this by kneeling to wash their feet.  This act was both ordinary and extraordinary.

It was ordinary because in the first century Mediterranean world, streets and roads were dusty, dirty, and often reeked of raw sewage. No matter how fastidious you might be, it would be impossible to travel through the streets without getting your feet filthy.  Since people reclined on couches at table rather than sitting upright with feed on the floor, you likely would be in close proximity to the feet of others.  Because of this, it was common practice to wash the feet of dinner guests.

But the foot-washing wasn’t a task performed by the host—it was a job reserved for a servant, whose low status made dealing with stinky, dirty feet more seemly.  So what happened next was not ordinary; no, it was quite extraordinary.  Jesus knelt at the feet of his disciples as a servant would kneel at the feet of a master.  Jesus knelt, and he washed their feet gently and lovingly. Never mind the filth, never mind the stink.  He washed them and he wiped them with the towel tied round his waist. And then he says to the disciples, “you should do as I have done.”

Ordinary and extraordinary.  Jesus takes an ordinary action and turns the tables.  Jesus, the Son of God, performs a task reserved for the lowliest of servants, and then commands his disciples to do the same.  He embodies for his disciples and for us what he has been teaching all along: servant ministry—gentle, humble, selfless, unconcerned with status, generous, loving. And then commands them, and us, to do likewise.

The name we give to this day in our liturgical cycle—Maundy Thursday—comes from this command:  Maundy, from mandate, a command or order.  So it is on Maundy Thursday that we remember this command to serve others. But we do more than remember it; we re-enact the event from which it came, a foot-washing.

For us, this is a symbolic act—our feet are protected by shoes, and our streets and sidewalks are kept relatively clean.  Nonetheless, it is a powerful act, one in which we can identify with the participants of so many years ago.  It is a powerful act because we are every bit as uncomfortable with this act as the disciples were.  Uncomfortable, yes, because we’re squeamish about our feet, but beyond that, uncomfortable because we are still working out what it means for us to be called as servants.  As it was for Simon Peter, it is difficult for us to let go of status, and order, and “the right way” of doing things, it is difficult for us to set aside our expectations for how things ought to be, it is difficult for us to step outside of the boundaries we set up for ourselves in order to be “safe”.

But, just as it was for Simon Peter,  it is only when we can set aside our expectations and step outside those safe boundaries that we can truly be part of God’s kingdom.  It only when we can let go of our need to be in control that we can offer ourselves to the world freely, as Jesus did.  And it is in offering ourselves freely to the world that we can begin to live into the servant ministry to which we are called. That is what Jesus modeled for us, that is what we enact tonight.  That is what we are mandated to carry back into the world today, tomorrow, and always.

Amen.