Palm Sunday 24/3/24
He washed their feet. Part 1
Thursday evening was Passover day, the Jewish festival where they remembered their liberation from slavery. Jesus had planned it carefully. An upper room in a discreet part of the city was booked and a Passover meal prepared. Threads were being gathered together. The tapestry would soon be complete. For those who had eyes to see, the knotted skein at the back of the loom was all that was visible at the moment, and it made no sense. But the loom would be turned around. It would reveal something beautiful.
When he arrived with his disciples it was as if Jesus knew that this night and this Passover was one of special significance. It would provide the lens through which everything that followed would be seen and understood, just as the Passover itself was the blueprint for the supper where he himself would be food and drink.
Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.
In the rest of the city similar preparations were being made. There was a buzz and an excitement in the air. Festivals are always exhilarating. People were rushing home, dressing up; all over the city tables were being laid.
The heat of the day was subsiding. A cool breeze was blowing in from the east. The sky was scorched and marbled with streaks of violet and pale vermillion. Above the city, two eagles rode the evening thermals, circling and looking for prey.
During the meal Jesus got up from the table. He took off his outer robes. He tied a large towel around his waist. He poured water into a basin and started to wash his disciples’ feet and wipe them with the towel. He did it so unobtrusively that at first they hardly even noticed it, thinking perhaps that someone else had entered the room and a servant was doing this for them.
But when they saw it was Jesus, that he was their servant, they looked at him with a kind of dumb disbelief. Why was he, their master, demeaning himself in this way? But he worked quietly, methodically and thoroughly. He smiled throughout. And they just sat there and let it happen. He was, in those moments, a still small voice in their presence; a voice of service that did this simple act of love with simple deliberation.
It shut them up. For a moment. They received from him, and this was never something they were very good at. Like most people, they were always happier to be in control, defining themselves by their power over others. But what he did was so obviously ‘other’ that it silenced them. The whole order of their expectations was upended, and they felt embarrassed, feeling they would never get to the bottom of him. After all, hadn’t he reproached them when they argued among themselves about who was the greatest? He had said the first must be slave of all, and that the Son of Man – whom they assumed to be a reference to himself – came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as ransom for many. But surely he meant servant of God? Not their servant? Yet, here he was, washing their feet. The things he did were too hard to fathom. The things he said were conundrums. He challenged everything.
It is a funny thing having your feet washed. Feet are more private than hands; on display each day, but rarely looked at or loved. They are not objects of beauty. They are gnarled and sweaty. They bear the brunt and weight of the day. Their skin is broken and rough. They are not accustomed to attention. If they are washed, it is usually a perfunctory thing. But he held their feet tenderly. He knelt before each one of his disciples and, holding their feet firmly and before he washed them, he looked each one of them in the eye. He held them with his gaze, and his eyes sparkled with gladness and affection. His eyes said, ‘I know you; and I want to do this thing for you because I love you; and I want you to be clean. And I will wash away the heat and burden of the day. I will be with you as one who serves. Come to me all who are weary and overburdened, and I will give you rest. I will make you clean. I will make you well.’
And what can you say to that? Even if you are feeling a little stupid, or slightly vulnerable, or just embarrassed, it was good to feel the cool unction of the water and his steady grip, holding and kneading your feet.