John 13:1-17, 31b-35

You have probably heard about the derivation of Maundy Thursday, and that Maundy comes from the Latin word mandatum, which means “command.” In today’s text, we read about a specific command that Jesus gives to his disciples.  

I must honestly confess that I have never been a big fan of the idea of foot washing services. I should probably also say that I’m still not…the idea completely freaks me out, and I suspect I am not alone. Most people cannot even fathom doing this for their own family and/or closest friends, let alone their congregation and/or people we might not know very well.

I mean feet…really? Who knows what is going on inside someone’s socks and shoes? What if they have poor grooming habits? What if they can’t help it? What if they simply don’t care? How could I possibly agree to wash someone’s feet when I have no idea what I am getting myself into, and I have no idea what is to come?

In a similar way, showing up for one another in community, showing up for our congregations and letting them show up for us, is almost as difficult as foot washing. It’s messy. It’s vulnerable. It’s awkward at times. We aren’t sure if we are ready for what we will uncover. Maintaining surface level relationships is so much easier and a lot less offensive! Once again, read in a new light, I find Jesus’ familiar words are still just as challenging.

Esau McCaulley shares a powerful story about literal foot washing, and I found his words to be incredibly impactful as we think about what it is that Jesus is commanding here:

I never learned to enjoy foot washing. I’m not sure joy was the intent. Service and mutual love are hard work. Sometimes we must grab sweaty feet and say to the person to whom those sweaty feet belong, “You are loved and valued, not just by your brothers and sisters in Christ, but more importantly by God.” Foot washing was gospel work. It was not fun, but it was good. [1]

I suspect that Jesus knew how difficult this would be. Loving one another in selfless, radical, covenantal ways is really difficult. Humility and selfless love are not things that come easy for most, if not all of us. I really love and appreciate that this foot washing scene is tied to the institution of the Lord’s Supper on Maundy Thursday. When we receive the Lord’s Supper, we are reminded that Jesus helps us to be all the things that we are not and have a hard time being.

I find great comfort in the fact that even though I fail so often as I seek to lead the way in these things, Christ’s strength is indeed sufficient. It fills me. It renews me. Receiving communion – Christ’s body and blood – moves me from knowing what I ought to do (For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you) to being able to carry out his command (you are blessed if you do them). It is with the filling of Christ that we can love and serve others as he has called us to do. And as Jesus reminds us here, the world is watching. I think the world is desperate to see the kind of love that is willing to bend down low and wash the feet of a brother or sister, even when it’s hard and messy. I long for the world to see such a stark contrast in the way the Church radically loves and serves when this is such a rarity.

I’m not sure how the local pastor might want to incorporate this into his or her Maundy Thursday message. But on this Maundy Thursday, whether we wash feet or simply gather to receive the Lord’s Supper, may we commit ourselves once again to what Jesus calls us to here – radical, selfless, humble love for one another. Not by our own strength, but by his.

[1] McCaulley, Esau, Lent: The Season of Repentance and Renewal (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2022), 81.