If You Can't Wash Their Feet, How Will You Die for Them?

The first chapter of John’s Gospel introduces Jesus as the logos (Greek for “the Word”).  A word communicates something; Jesus is what God wants to say to the world.  In fact, New Testament scholar Francis Moloney loosely translates John 1:18 as:  “He [Jesus] has told God’s story.”

As the divine logos, not only Jesus’ words but everything he does express something to us about God.  Jesus is not just a messenger of God’s words; he is God’s self-expression.

John is the only Gospel that tells the story of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples at the Last Supper.  In this unique story, the divine logos speaks loudly.  John does not narrate the details of the meal or what we now call the "institution of the Eucharist."  Instead, he tells a simple story about Jesus with a basin of water and a towel, doing something we never expected.  He washes the dirty feet of his friends.

Peter is appalled, remember?  But Jesus is patient.  He says to Peter, “What I am doing, you will not understand now.  But you will understand later.”  When he is finished, he asks his friends, “Do you know what I have done for you?  I have given you a model to follow.”  And of course we know from the other words and actions of Jesus, all expressions of the Father, that this is not only something we should do for our friends, but for anyone in need, and for our enemies too.

The footwashing is startling, and Jesus’ command to imitate his humble deed asks a lot of us.  But it is nothing compared to the Cross.  Ultimately, this is where Jesus goes.  This is where he says to us again, “What I am doing, you will not understand now.  But you will understand later.”  This is where he asks us for the last time, “Do you know what I have done for you?  I have given you a model to follow.”  This is where we hear the echo of John’s testimony about Jesus:  “He loved his own in the world and he loved them to the end” (13:1).

Now imagine your friends, and those who need you, and your enemies – those who have hurt you or failed you, those in your life who are most difficult to love, respect or care for.  Now imagine that you take up a towel and a basin of water.  Imagine that you kneel down and carefully wash their feet, and gently dry them.  You might not want to do it at first, although you know God has done it for you so many times.  But if you can’t wash the feet of every person in your life, how will you go to the Cross, how will you lay down your life for them, how will you love your own to the end?

Jesus has told God’s story.  And now we are his logos, his Word, his self-expression in the world.  We have been given a model to follow.  Will we do it?

To meditate further on the text of John 13, click here.

Ford Madox Brown, Jesus Washing Peter's Feet, 1856

Guest Blogger: My Daughter's Stations of the Cross

I am so happy to share with you something that my 12-year-old daughter Siobhan wrote and shared with me.  It is hard to describe how I felt when I read these Stations of the Cross.  

Siobhan, I’m so proud to be your mom.

---

“I : CONDEMNED- JUDGE
Stand before the crowd for me
What have you to say for thee?
No sound, no word to save his name
To end his pain, to stop his fate
Although his heart is pure and clean
He is condemned to endless sleep

II : CARRY- SPECTATOR
I watch them weave a crown of thorns
Hustle, heckle taunt and scorn
I watch them load your back with weight
Bitterness crossed with twisted hate
I want to end their cruel advance
But I do not move when I have the chance

III : FALLING- SOLDIER
You stumble yet we push you down
You cry but we ignore the sound
No one helps you when you fall
No one makes a move at all
I cannot help but feel for you
But when you’re down I do not move

IV : MEETING- MOTHER
So alone you stumble forth
They do not know what you are worth
So now, now when you say to me
“Courage, woman, for this must be”
I truly know that I must believe
For by your cross we are redeemed

V : HELP- SIMON
They push and pull me toward the tree
The heavy burden meant for thee
They grow impatient tired of
Your slow progress or lack thereof
They snatch me off the streets of ill
So I help you against my will

VI : FACE- VERONICA
Alone again he struggles on
They will nail him to the tree anon
I don’t have anything to give
But I cannot yet leave him
My hands I have and my veil in place
So at least I can wash your face

VII : FALLING AGAIN- PETER
I see you fall this time on rock
I cannot bare to see them mock
I have denied you thrice today
But still I love you, still I pray
That you’ll forgive me for I was weak
As you set on humble and meek

VIII : CRY- WOMAN
As he stumbles toward us still
He is not drained of his good will
Though it’s I who should help thee
You reach out and comfort me
You’ve been abandoned by your friends
But still you love until the end

IX : FALLING STILL- PHARISEE
This time he falls and does not rise
He is so close to his demise
That I can see the wasted land
Where they will nail his feet and hands
In spite of cards that fate has dealt
Why do you not save yourself?

X : ROBBED- JOHN
They take your clothes and leave you bare
Crown of thorns still in your hair
You wear those twigs like the king you are
And despite these horrid scars
I know you’ll come again someday
So that we can then be saved

XI : NAILED- MAN
This is my job and I’ve no choice
But I have yet to hear your voice
You do not protest when we stab
Your hands and then your side they jab
I cannot help but think and pray
Are you the king as they all say?

XII : MORTEM - CHRIST
Father father why have you
Abandoned me as I go through
I trust you, I do not doubt
The things you ask to carry out
With my last breath, I want all to hear it:
Into your hands I commend my spirit
”

A self-portrait by Siobhan.

Lent Cometh

It seems we just packed up the Christmas decorations, but Lent is around the corner!  Next Wednesday, Feb. 10, is Ash Wednesday.  As you kick off your 40 day fast, remember the “gift of limits.”  You have a chance to do something special here, something you may not be able to commit to or sustain for years, but that you can commit to for 40 days. 

I know giving up something like sweets, alcohol, snacks or t.v. is no longer in vogue, but there is a reason “giving up” has been part of our tradition for so long.  While no one thinks that giving up chocolate is more important than giving up gossip, making some kind of physical sacrifice helps both your mind and body be aware that this is a special time devoted to something (Someone) much greater than our physical (or entertainment) desires.  Every time you think of that thing that you want and then make that small sacrifice, you acknowledge the goodness of that thing but recognize the greater goodness of God.  It’s old-fashioned, yeah, I know, but it works like a charm!  Plus it is a concrete way we tell God, “I’m willing to give up something for you, like you gave up something for me.”  When you think about it that way, giving up sweets or lattes seems remarkably easy.

If there is something you want to do such as give up gossip, or visit the sick, or attend an extra Mass per week, then by all means do those good things.  We should all adopt such a spiritual practice, which offers a true fast, so very pleasing to God (Isa. 58:6-7).  But find some small material sacrifice as well, something that keeps reminding you – body and soul – that you are setting your mind and heart on something even higher than the very good things of this wonderful world. 

As a child once told me, “We give something up because he gave up everything for us.”

Paschal Mysteries

“There have been times when, after long on my knees in a cold chancel, a stone has rolled from my mind, and I have looked in and seen the old questions lie folded and in a place by themselves, like the piled grave clothes of love’s risen body.”

 -- R.S. Thomas

A Texan's Tribute to the Long, Hard Winter

Every winter – usually sometime toward the end of February – I begin to ask myself how in the world I ended up in Connecticut.  I meander through my mind and the chain of events that brought me here, and I always come to the same conclusion:  this is where I belong.  But it doesn’t make winter any shorter.

As a native Texan, I doubt that the kind of winters I experience in the Northeast will ever be easy for me.  In fact, I’ve noticed they aren’t even easy for the people who have lived here all their lives.  Just about every year they say, “That was a tough winter!”  Even when tough is normal, it is still tough.

What I like most about winter is the way we all get through it together.  It’s rare to be out shoveling snow alone.  There’s always a neighbor or two out, suffering along with you.  You always have something to discuss with strangers at the store.  We ask each other, “Are we going to make it?” or we just call out across the street some quick word of commiseration as we dash to and from our cars (if you can “dash” across an icy driveway).  I’ll always remember a sweet moment after Mass one Sunday when I saw a priest lean down and encourage one of his elderly parishioners:  “You’ll only need that fleece for about one more week.”

Another thing I like about winter is that it ends.  When the warmth of spring hits, we all find our way outside – to the beach, to the park, or we hit a trail somewhere.  Here we find camaraderie too.  We got through it together.  We did our time, we endured, we never really lost hope that there would indeed come a day when we could leave the fleece jacket at home.  We feel we earned this beautiful day.

Perhaps it is simply my own determination to find some meaning in the personal challenge that winter poses for me, but I find winter to be a profound metaphor for the natural cycles of suffering that we endure in life, and for the Paschal Mystery itself.  Of course this isn’t an original idea – but now that I’ve actually lived through what I can honestly call a “hard winter” – now I really get it. 

I treasure three seasons in Connecticut, and I endure one.  The beauty of the other three seasons is only enhanced by my memories of winter, by the ways winter has influenced and changed me.  And in this I am reminded that the Risen Christ still bore – still bears – the wounds of crucifixion (Lk. 24:39; Jn. 20:25).  The victorious Lamb worshiped in the Book of Revelation is the Lamb who was slain (Rev. 5).  And this is as it should be.  Some wounds, forged in the toughest of times, should never be forgotten – especially those which bring forth new life.  No, we never forget about winter here in the Northeast.  Winter is part of who we are.  But we know and we believe that even the hardest winter leads to spring – always has, always will.