a sermon based upon
In the name of Jesus; amen.
Last week my father called and asked when I was going to do his feet. It has become a tradition since coming to CT that I set aside some time to give my dad a pedicure each year before Maundy Thursday.
Now I love getting pedicures; it is an indulgence and when I have the ability to go and have my feet done I jump at the chance. So I try very hard to give my dad a nice pedicure when he asks because I know that he won’t indulge in going to a salon to have a professional do it for him.
There are some people who don’t like to have their feet touched. Feet are a funny thing. Maybe they don’t like how their feet look and so they are embarrassed to have someone else see them or maybe they are ticklish and so they can’t stand to have someone else touch them without breaking into laughter.
And so, this night is an odd night when we pull out a basin and invite everyone to come forward with bare feet and have someone else pour water over them and then take a towel to dry them off. It’s not quite a pedicure… but it is still a strange ritual inserted right in the middle of the service where we remember Jesus’ last meal with his friends.
If you are uncomfortable with the idea of coming forward, that’s ok. Like I said, there are people who just don’t like to have their feet touched and no one should worry about what others will think if they come forward, sit in the chair, and get their feet wet or not.
It was a strange thing that Jesus did. Right in the middle of supper he gets up, takes off his robe, ties a towel around his waste, gets a basin, and going from disciple to disciple begins to wash their feet.
But it wasn’t that their feet were dirty and Jesus just couldn’t stand it anymore so he decided to wash them himself. Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. And having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end…
Their feet were already clean. Feet were washed upon entering a home to take off the dirt and sand that they had walked through outside. Their hands would also have been washed… it was part of the meal-time ritual to wash one’s hands before eating.
This wasn’t something that Jesus had to do for them… it was something he did because he loved them. He was their teacher, their master, the one who they followed and suddenly there he was touching their feet, washing them, and drying them right in the middle of supper.
I’m sure they were all perplexed and a bit surprised, but it is Peter who speaks up… who brings up the weirdness of it. “Are you going to wash my feet?”
His feet were clean, they didn’t need to be washed and certainly he didn’t want Jesus to wash his feet. He should be washing Jesus’ feet if there was going to be any foot washing… but Jesus insists.
And something happens… Jesus is no longer master, but servant and friend. A new relationship begins for those gathered that night. They might not understand it at first, but later they will when they discover that the tomb is empty and Jesus stands, resurrected, in front of them. Later, they will understand why their feet were washed when Christ gives them a new mission to preach the gospel to the world.
Later they will understand that Jesus was sent to care for them so that they might care for others… that he loved them so that they might love others just as he loved them.
It was an odd thing to wash their feet right in the middle of supper. But Jesus did it so that they might understand their need to feel loved by him and to not resist that need or his love. We need the love of Jesus… love that is poured out in the water of washing and in the bread and cup of his supper. It is love meant to give us a part of him and to make us a part of his love.
It is love that makes us friends: friends of Christ and also friends to others, to those Christ has called us to serve.
Jesus’ love changes us. It makes us bare our feet and extend our hand. It makes us stop resisting our need for mercy, forgiveness, and love. And it fills us with a desire to serve, not because we are servants or less than others, but because it transforms our relationships with others.
This night, filled with odd traditions and a meal of ordinary stuff that becomes Jesus’ own body and blood is a night of transforming love, love that gets into us and wants us to share it with others.
Let it transform you, even if you don’t get your feet wet. Let it transform you as you come to the table. Let it transform you into a friend. Amen.
Last week my father called and asked when I was going to do his feet. It has become a tradition since coming to CT that I set aside some time to give my dad a pedicure each year before Maundy Thursday.
Now I love getting pedicures; it is an indulgence and when I have the ability to go and have my feet done I jump at the chance. So I try very hard to give my dad a nice pedicure when he asks because I know that he won’t indulge in going to a salon to have a professional do it for him.
There are some people who don’t like to have their feet touched. Feet are a funny thing. Maybe they don’t like how their feet look and so they are embarrassed to have someone else see them or maybe they are ticklish and so they can’t stand to have someone else touch them without breaking into laughter.
And so, this night is an odd night when we pull out a basin and invite everyone to come forward with bare feet and have someone else pour water over them and then take a towel to dry them off. It’s not quite a pedicure… but it is still a strange ritual inserted right in the middle of the service where we remember Jesus’ last meal with his friends.
If you are uncomfortable with the idea of coming forward, that’s ok. Like I said, there are people who just don’t like to have their feet touched and no one should worry about what others will think if they come forward, sit in the chair, and get their feet wet or not.
It was a strange thing that Jesus did. Right in the middle of supper he gets up, takes off his robe, ties a towel around his waste, gets a basin, and going from disciple to disciple begins to wash their feet.
But it wasn’t that their feet were dirty and Jesus just couldn’t stand it anymore so he decided to wash them himself. Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. And having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end…
Their feet were already clean. Feet were washed upon entering a home to take off the dirt and sand that they had walked through outside. Their hands would also have been washed… it was part of the meal-time ritual to wash one’s hands before eating.
This wasn’t something that Jesus had to do for them… it was something he did because he loved them. He was their teacher, their master, the one who they followed and suddenly there he was touching their feet, washing them, and drying them right in the middle of supper.
I’m sure they were all perplexed and a bit surprised, but it is Peter who speaks up… who brings up the weirdness of it. “Are you going to wash my feet?”
His feet were clean, they didn’t need to be washed and certainly he didn’t want Jesus to wash his feet. He should be washing Jesus’ feet if there was going to be any foot washing… but Jesus insists.
And something happens… Jesus is no longer master, but servant and friend. A new relationship begins for those gathered that night. They might not understand it at first, but later they will when they discover that the tomb is empty and Jesus stands, resurrected, in front of them. Later, they will understand why their feet were washed when Christ gives them a new mission to preach the gospel to the world.
Later they will understand that Jesus was sent to care for them so that they might care for others… that he loved them so that they might love others just as he loved them.
It was an odd thing to wash their feet right in the middle of supper. But Jesus did it so that they might understand their need to feel loved by him and to not resist that need or his love. We need the love of Jesus… love that is poured out in the water of washing and in the bread and cup of his supper. It is love meant to give us a part of him and to make us a part of his love.
It is love that makes us friends: friends of Christ and also friends to others, to those Christ has called us to serve.
Jesus’ love changes us. It makes us bare our feet and extend our hand. It makes us stop resisting our need for mercy, forgiveness, and love. And it fills us with a desire to serve, not because we are servants or less than others, but because it transforms our relationships with others.
This night, filled with odd traditions and a meal of ordinary stuff that becomes Jesus’ own body and blood is a night of transforming love, love that gets into us and wants us to share it with others.
Let it transform you, even if you don’t get your feet wet. Let it transform you as you come to the table. Let it transform you into a friend. Amen.
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