Washing Feet

The Lord Jesus, after he had supped with his disciples and had washed their feet, said to them, “Do you know what I, your Lord and Master, have done to you? I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done.” 
—Book of Common Prayer, p. 274

I grew up in a tradition that had communion two times a year. We came for an evening service where we shared a simple meal, broke bread, and drank mini cups of grape juice.  And, somewhere between the breaking of bread and the meal, the women would go to the church library where the lights were dim, and take off their shoes and stockings. I still remember lining my maryjanes up with the older women’s sensible shoes and knee-highs. I noticed their ankles; the knee-highs would slump in a certain way as they took them off and on some of their legs, veins were visible. We would then go out to a gathering area where laundry baskets of clean white hand towels and white enamel-coated tin basins waited. As we washed one another’s feet, the deaconesses would keep changing the water.

There was an intimacy in touching someone’s feet. It was uncomfortable and, at the same time, compelling. When else did I come right alongside these older women and do the same thing in the same way?  These evenings were strange and yet special. There was a vulnerability that, while I could not name what it was, I felt it intensely. This practice turned social norms upside down and it required courage.  

I still find foot washing something I long for and dread simultaneously. It is a challenge to put my feet in the basin at church and have someone wash them. To accept service in a place of vulnerability is a difficult thing. I am much more comfortable giving service than receiving it. I see my children hesitate next to me, not sure they want to participate. This is a strange practice and one that requires us all to take courage.   

But this is good and right, for courage is required to live out the gospel, and the very heart of our gospel is service.  “And being found in human form, [Jesus] humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” Christ became vulnerable. His service to us, born out of love, is a gift. A gift we have to receive. It is said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive,” but is it really? At Christmas we must receive the gift of the Christ Child. At Easter we are called to receive redemption. Like Christ we must humble ourselves; unlike Christ, we know we do not have what we need in ourselves to flourish.

In a culture that prizes independence, humbly choosing to become vulnerable and recognize our own need to be served is a total upending and a revolutionary way to live. It is tempting when we hear the word service to think of our call in the Christian life to serve others. And this is not wrong, as we grow more like Christ, we will serve others with selfless love.  But, before we can truly serve in love, we must first be served. We must receive the gift of service from our Lord and, in turn, we must accept the service of others. We must bare our feet and accept the intimate gift of gospel love.