The Meanings of Foot Washing: Maundy Thursday

​The most important thing to come out of that first Maundy Thursday, two thousand years ago, was the Eucharist. We get that story in our reading from Corinthians, and I’ll come back to it in a minute.
 
But first I want to ponder the meaning of the other thing Jesus does at the Last Supper, wash the feet of his disciples.
 
A lot of Churches do a ritual foot washing this evening. That can be a powerful practice. But in Jesus’ day, foot washing was not a ritual. Foot washing was a normal thing people did.
 
As we heard a couple of weeks ago, Mary of Bethany washed Jesus’ feet as an act of love and to prepare him for his burial. On a different occasion, Jesus complained when a Pharisee invited Jesus to his home but failed to provide him water for his feet (Luke 7:44). The author of First Timothy praises washing people’s feet as a standard good work (5:10).
 
What Jesus did on that first Maundy Thursday was odd, but not because foot washing happened. Foot washing happened all the time. What made the foot washing on the first Maundy Thursday meaningful was the fact that the master was the one doing the washing.
 
Public foot washing is not normal for us as it was for them. But by washing feet, Jesus is teaching us something that goes well beyond foot care, ritual or otherwise. So, what is it?
 
To answer that question, we can draw on our own experience with feet.
 
In the summer, I mostly wear sandals. It has happened more than once, including here at Saint David’s, that I have been with people while wearing my sandals and suddenly noticed an unpleasant foot smell. After a moment of wondering who has failed to clean their feet adequately, I realize, with some embarrassment, that it is me.
 
That moment illustrates one lesson about foot washing. Having one’s feet washed means exposing something about us that is smelly and dirty to other people. It means making people aware of things about us that we would usually prefer them not to know.
 
Unfortunately, sometimes that is exactly what we need to do.
 
First to God in prayer. I come to God as one needing forgiveness and healing. But when I am praying, I often try to pretend that’s not so. I don’t express anger or pettiness or whininess, even if that is what I am feeling. I try to sound more pious and less mean-spirited than I actually am, as if I could ever fool God.
 
But God invites us to bring our full selves when we pray, with all of our stinkiness.
 
I think about the Psalms, which are mostly prayers. In our Psalm for tonight, the Psalmist admits that he has prayed “I am greatly afflicted,” that he has complained “everyone is a liar.” Other Psalms are a lot bitterer than that.
 
And we can be, too, if that’s how we are feeling when we pray. When Christ washes the feet of his disciples, it is as if he is reminding them, and us, that he already knows their and our stinky parts, so we all might as well be honest with God.
 
Sometimes we need to share our full selves with other human beings, too, and that is even harder than being honest with God. Other people can help us to battle our temptations by holding us accountable. But it’s not just that. I think we all long for the kind of relationships with other people where we can really be ourselves, trusting that the other person will love us, stink feet and all.
 
Being honest even about our dirty, stinky parts is one lesson from Jesus’ foot washing that night.
 
But Jesus doesn’t just force Peter and the others to let him wash their feet. Jesus tells them to do the same, to wash each other’s feet. And that offers its own lesson.
 
Not so long ago, I read a book about a doctor serving homeless people in Boston.[1] When Dr. Jim first began his ministry, the people he was there to serve didn’t trust him. He seemed like another arrogant doctor trying to fix them.
 
Part of the medical care for homeless people was taking care of their feet, which could be pretty nasty. First the medical team would wash their feet, then do whatever else was necessary. Doctors didn’t normally do the washing part, but a wise nurse advised Dr. Jim to take his turn.
 
Week after week Dr. Jim washed the feet of a particular man who basically wouldn’t talk to him. But as time went by, and as Dr. Jim kept washing the man’s feet, he gradually began to warm up and chat a bit. Eventually the man felt comfortable enough to approach Dr. Jim for help with his medical problems. By washing this man’s feet, Dr. Jim broke through his reserve.
 
I think how easy it would have been for Dr. Jim to give up. After all, he was the doctor there to offer his expertise to people in need. If this man didn’t want his help, fine, that was the man’s problem. Dr. Jim had plenty of other things to do and other people to care for.
 
But Dr. Jim stuck it out. Dr. Jim kept washing the man’s feet until he convinced the man of his genuine commitment to the man’s wellbeing. Only then was Dr. Jim able to use his gifts to help the man as he was called to do.
 
Again, the point is about more than feet. This is a lesson about humility, and love, and service. That’s how Jesus commands us to treat each other. And although in Dr. Jim’s case that meant literal footcare, we mostly don’t have to touch each other’s feet to do that.
 
Jesus’ example of washing feet sets up the new commandment he gives us just a few minutes later: “love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” Humbly serving and loving each other, as Christ humbly loves and serves his disciples, is the second great lesson from the foot washing that night.
 
But here is the problem. It is hard to admit our weaknesses and our inadequacies, even with God, still more with other people. It is hard to be humble and loving in service to others, especially when the others don’t seem particularly appreciative.
 
To do what Christ commands, to fulfill the true meaning of foot washing in our own way and in our own day, we need help.
 
And so, at last, I come back to the gift of the Eucharist, the most important thing to come out of that first Maundy Thursday. In the Eucharist, Christ himself nourishes us. Christ feeds us with his own body and blood. Christ unites us and shapes us into the very body of Christ. Christ offers us forgiveness of our own ugliness, and empowers us to love each other, no matter how challenging we can each be.
 
In a few minutes, we will celebrate the Eucharist for the last time until Easter morning. I invite you to receive the sacrament in the spirit of this night, with gratitude to the one who knows us perfectly and loves us absolutely, and with renewed commitment to reflect that same love to others.
 
In Christ’s name. Amen.
 


[1] Tracey Kidder, Rough Sleepers, 30-32.