One of the many things that you learn as a parent is that you will learn as much or more from your children than they will from you. One of these unexpected revelations happened after the birth of our first child when my wife called me and excitedly told me that our child had found her feet. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that’s kind of a basic developmental event so it was pretty exciting to for her to see it happen! And so the joys continued with the first wobbly steps and now she is about to graduate high school and take off running in a new direction.
Oh, the places she will go…and so it is with all of us as spiritual children. The more mobile we get, the more opportunity there is for both success and failure. That’s why the season of Lent is designed for the opportunity to stop and take stock of our lives. That’s why our liturgy has a time for confession every Sunday – whether we feel like we need it or not!
As spiritual creatures, confession often becomes the feet on which we stand, move about, and run around. Confession is one of the most intimate and personal times we share with God, and that is why we do it silently and personally as well as corporately. As we grow physically, our feet become one of the most intimate parts of our bodies, though we rarely think of them that way. Only those closest to you emotionally would even be allowed to get physically close enough to touch your feet. Our feet are ticklish because we don’t want them touched. When they are touched it is by permission, or because they are used defensively, or because they are being used to explore in some way. In fact, I think feet are so intimately personal that if I continue speaking about them some of you would get uncomfortable, or begin to think that I am just plain weird…. If you don’t already.
But today’s text is about feet. Well, not just feet. It’s about spiritual intimacy. Jesus knows this gathered crowd intimately. Not just from the times, they have shared, but he knows their character. He knows where they are going and what they will do. He knows that his death is coming and that they will continue the work he has started. And given John’s portrayal of Jesus, he knew them before they were. Remember that John 1:1-18 tells us that Jesus is the divine logos – the word through which God spoke creation into being. To say he “knew that his hour had come” means that he knew not only what would befall him, but what they would all endure. “Having loved them” Jesus loved them “to the end,” that is unto his death.
This attitude of love enters into the atmosphere of darkness in which they are gathered. Not only is it an evening, but they are presumably meeting in secret. John’s gospel does not say whose home they are in, but in Mathew, Mark, and Luke they simply go to a man with a water jug and ask for a place to eat. It’s not important who prepared the table or even how this meal relates to the Passover feast in John’s depiction. Yet I can’t help but wonder what the disciples were thinking about the room they were walking into.
They were giddy with expectation. They had escaped several death threats and seen Lazarus raised from the dead just when they thought they were going to die with and for Jesus himself. Thomas had said in John 11:16, “Then let us go die with him.” There had to be an odd mix of adolescent invincibility, righteous piety, and yet some sense of really being on to the truth of Jesus’ teaching.
They were on the inside…the ground floor of something big…and someone forgot to put out the pitcher and basin for washing feet! Obviously, this was an oversight given the things one steps in on a city street in those days, not to mention the dust that cakes it on. Accordion to Mark 7 and Matthew 15, they had once eaten with unclean hands to prove a point to the Pharisees! Maybe this was some new teaching?
Then suddenly, as all were seated, Jesus stands and takes the position of a servant to wash their feet. Maybe the bowl was there all the time and they were waiting on the host or a household servant, as was the custom. Who knows. Either way, they all thought the same thing. “Uh, Jesus…what are you doing?” Of course, Peter is the one who can never keep his mouth shut. And then once he thinks he’s got it he tries to go the extra mile. That Peter, always going to extremes. I like him. And though Peter maybe like a flood of enthusiasm, Jesus is like a river with firm boundaries. His power is in his knowledge of who he is, what he is doing, and where he is going.
With ritualistic clarity, he confirms Peter as already clean, but in need of understanding. This act is about the reversal of power. This act is about the recognition that power is best displayed through humility and service rather than declarative actions. Power expressed in service acknowledges the humanity of each and demonstrates the value of the one who is served in such a way that they are left with the choice as to whether or not they will serve others in the same way. With ceremonious sincerity, Jesus validates each of the disciples and gives them this choice – even the one who will betray him.
And so it is with us. We are giddy with the hope of this time of change in seasons and as we move forward with new strategies to combat disease and misfortune. We are excited about new opportunities to grow in our lives of faith – together and as individuals. All the while, we feel threatened by change and we at times even fear our death as a congregation. We are running around and getting into things. We are learning valuable lessons and reaching for steps we know we can’t yet climb but would almost rather break our necks on them than stay away from them. We are a community of the faithful, God’s chosen ones, the redeemed of the Lord, and our feet are at times dirty. Now, what do I mean by that?
In the words of Billy Graham, “The hard right has no interest in religion except to manipulate it." Some may say the same of the left, but the real question is whether we are concerned about the moral high ground or actual devotion and mutual affection. Issues of the day are often framed around moral choices, but they are – at the center – about power and control.
As followers of Jesus, the lesson of this story is that we do not get to control all of the outcomes. Instead, we are called to accept the blessing of the one who loves us and to love others in the same way that we have been loved.
Our journey with Jesus begins in baptism. It is a symbol reminding us that though we will die we will yet live, and through it we are assured of and sealed in the covenant of God’s redemptive love. In every baptism, our own salvation is confirmed and our hearts are washed clean. But the ritual of Baptism only begins what can only be enriched by the ritual of daily prayer and a life of devotion, lest it is but a ceremony and a photo opportunity. Our personal confession certainly cleans us of the grime we encounter, but Jesus has commanded us to wash one another’s feet. Prayers spoken alone are no less valid, but this is something we also must do for and with one another.
Husbands and wives, parents and children, friends, siblings, brothers and sisters in Christ and by blood…all are invited to pray together, and not just to bless the food.
Now here’s the tricky part about all of this. Verse 8 Makes things seem kind of transactional when Jesus says, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” If you don’t do it, you aren’t in the club. If you don’t allow Jesus to wash your feet… if you don’t wash each other's feet… if you do not “go and do likewise”… then your salvation is incomplete.
John makes repeated claims along these lines that seem to confound the idea of being saved by grace alone. 3:3 Unless one is born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God. 3:5 Unless one is born of water and the spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. 6:53 Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. 8:24 Unless you believe that 'I AM,' you will die in your sins. 12:24 Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone. 13:8 Unless I wash you, you have no part in me. 15:4 As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me.
The truth of the matter is that John is not describing a transaction as much as he is describing a cause and effect. It's an “If/Then”, not a “do this so that.” It's a description of what we do if we are followers of Jesus. Likewise, in John’s gospel, Judas is not the one who turns Jesus in but rather the one who leaves. He rejects Jesus. Sure, he lead the soldiers to their place of prayer, but as Jesus said in John 10:17, “For this reason the Father loves me because I lay down my life in order to take it up again.” The real betrayal came before all of that, and it was to lose faith in Jesus as the one who came from God in order to bring light into the darkness of the world. While it may be that we could wrestle with our own betrayals of God in the relationships we share and the injustices we contribute to and participate in, I’d rather leave you wrestling with the depth of God's love for you.
On August 16, 1987, Northwest Airlines flight 225 crashed just after taking off from the Detroit airport, killing 155 people. One survived: a four-year-old from Tempe, Arizona, named Cecelia. News accounts say when rescuers found Cecelia they did not believe she had been on the plane.
Investigators first assumed Cecelia had been a passenger in one of the cars on the highway onto which the airliner crashed. But when the passenger register for the flight was checked, there was Cecelia’s name. Cecelia survived because, even as the plane was falling, Cecelia’s mother, Paula Chican, unbuckled her own seat belt, got down on her knees in front of her daughter, wrapped her arms and body around Cecelia, and then would not let her go. Nothing could separate that child from her parent’s love — neither tragedy nor disaster, neither the fall nor the flames that followed, neither height nor depth, neither life nor death.
And so it is with each of us, as we find our feet in the hands of Jesus. Our feet have brought us to this place of grace, and there is a font of mercy before us. In the baptismal font, there are blue marbles to remind you of the covenant God has made with us. Take one if you like. Judas’ work has been fulfilled. Now let ours begin. And to God be the glory both now and always, Amen.
Oh, the places she will go…and so it is with all of us as spiritual children. The more mobile we get, the more opportunity there is for both success and failure. That’s why the season of Lent is designed for the opportunity to stop and take stock of our lives. That’s why our liturgy has a time for confession every Sunday – whether we feel like we need it or not!
As spiritual creatures, confession often becomes the feet on which we stand, move about, and run around. Confession is one of the most intimate and personal times we share with God, and that is why we do it silently and personally as well as corporately. As we grow physically, our feet become one of the most intimate parts of our bodies, though we rarely think of them that way. Only those closest to you emotionally would even be allowed to get physically close enough to touch your feet. Our feet are ticklish because we don’t want them touched. When they are touched it is by permission, or because they are used defensively, or because they are being used to explore in some way. In fact, I think feet are so intimately personal that if I continue speaking about them some of you would get uncomfortable, or begin to think that I am just plain weird…. If you don’t already.
But today’s text is about feet. Well, not just feet. It’s about spiritual intimacy. Jesus knows this gathered crowd intimately. Not just from the times, they have shared, but he knows their character. He knows where they are going and what they will do. He knows that his death is coming and that they will continue the work he has started. And given John’s portrayal of Jesus, he knew them before they were. Remember that John 1:1-18 tells us that Jesus is the divine logos – the word through which God spoke creation into being. To say he “knew that his hour had come” means that he knew not only what would befall him, but what they would all endure. “Having loved them” Jesus loved them “to the end,” that is unto his death.
This attitude of love enters into the atmosphere of darkness in which they are gathered. Not only is it an evening, but they are presumably meeting in secret. John’s gospel does not say whose home they are in, but in Mathew, Mark, and Luke they simply go to a man with a water jug and ask for a place to eat. It’s not important who prepared the table or even how this meal relates to the Passover feast in John’s depiction. Yet I can’t help but wonder what the disciples were thinking about the room they were walking into.
They were giddy with expectation. They had escaped several death threats and seen Lazarus raised from the dead just when they thought they were going to die with and for Jesus himself. Thomas had said in John 11:16, “Then let us go die with him.” There had to be an odd mix of adolescent invincibility, righteous piety, and yet some sense of really being on to the truth of Jesus’ teaching.
They were on the inside…the ground floor of something big…and someone forgot to put out the pitcher and basin for washing feet! Obviously, this was an oversight given the things one steps in on a city street in those days, not to mention the dust that cakes it on. Accordion to Mark 7 and Matthew 15, they had once eaten with unclean hands to prove a point to the Pharisees! Maybe this was some new teaching?
Then suddenly, as all were seated, Jesus stands and takes the position of a servant to wash their feet. Maybe the bowl was there all the time and they were waiting on the host or a household servant, as was the custom. Who knows. Either way, they all thought the same thing. “Uh, Jesus…what are you doing?” Of course, Peter is the one who can never keep his mouth shut. And then once he thinks he’s got it he tries to go the extra mile. That Peter, always going to extremes. I like him. And though Peter maybe like a flood of enthusiasm, Jesus is like a river with firm boundaries. His power is in his knowledge of who he is, what he is doing, and where he is going.
With ritualistic clarity, he confirms Peter as already clean, but in need of understanding. This act is about the reversal of power. This act is about the recognition that power is best displayed through humility and service rather than declarative actions. Power expressed in service acknowledges the humanity of each and demonstrates the value of the one who is served in such a way that they are left with the choice as to whether or not they will serve others in the same way. With ceremonious sincerity, Jesus validates each of the disciples and gives them this choice – even the one who will betray him.
And so it is with us. We are giddy with the hope of this time of change in seasons and as we move forward with new strategies to combat disease and misfortune. We are excited about new opportunities to grow in our lives of faith – together and as individuals. All the while, we feel threatened by change and we at times even fear our death as a congregation. We are running around and getting into things. We are learning valuable lessons and reaching for steps we know we can’t yet climb but would almost rather break our necks on them than stay away from them. We are a community of the faithful, God’s chosen ones, the redeemed of the Lord, and our feet are at times dirty. Now, what do I mean by that?
In the words of Billy Graham, “The hard right has no interest in religion except to manipulate it." Some may say the same of the left, but the real question is whether we are concerned about the moral high ground or actual devotion and mutual affection. Issues of the day are often framed around moral choices, but they are – at the center – about power and control.
As followers of Jesus, the lesson of this story is that we do not get to control all of the outcomes. Instead, we are called to accept the blessing of the one who loves us and to love others in the same way that we have been loved.
Our journey with Jesus begins in baptism. It is a symbol reminding us that though we will die we will yet live, and through it we are assured of and sealed in the covenant of God’s redemptive love. In every baptism, our own salvation is confirmed and our hearts are washed clean. But the ritual of Baptism only begins what can only be enriched by the ritual of daily prayer and a life of devotion, lest it is but a ceremony and a photo opportunity. Our personal confession certainly cleans us of the grime we encounter, but Jesus has commanded us to wash one another’s feet. Prayers spoken alone are no less valid, but this is something we also must do for and with one another.
Husbands and wives, parents and children, friends, siblings, brothers and sisters in Christ and by blood…all are invited to pray together, and not just to bless the food.
Now here’s the tricky part about all of this. Verse 8 Makes things seem kind of transactional when Jesus says, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” If you don’t do it, you aren’t in the club. If you don’t allow Jesus to wash your feet… if you don’t wash each other's feet… if you do not “go and do likewise”… then your salvation is incomplete.
John makes repeated claims along these lines that seem to confound the idea of being saved by grace alone. 3:3 Unless one is born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God. 3:5 Unless one is born of water and the spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. 6:53 Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. 8:24 Unless you believe that 'I AM,' you will die in your sins. 12:24 Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone. 13:8 Unless I wash you, you have no part in me. 15:4 As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me.
The truth of the matter is that John is not describing a transaction as much as he is describing a cause and effect. It's an “If/Then”, not a “do this so that.” It's a description of what we do if we are followers of Jesus. Likewise, in John’s gospel, Judas is not the one who turns Jesus in but rather the one who leaves. He rejects Jesus. Sure, he lead the soldiers to their place of prayer, but as Jesus said in John 10:17, “For this reason the Father loves me because I lay down my life in order to take it up again.” The real betrayal came before all of that, and it was to lose faith in Jesus as the one who came from God in order to bring light into the darkness of the world. While it may be that we could wrestle with our own betrayals of God in the relationships we share and the injustices we contribute to and participate in, I’d rather leave you wrestling with the depth of God's love for you.
On August 16, 1987, Northwest Airlines flight 225 crashed just after taking off from the Detroit airport, killing 155 people. One survived: a four-year-old from Tempe, Arizona, named Cecelia. News accounts say when rescuers found Cecelia they did not believe she had been on the plane.
Investigators first assumed Cecelia had been a passenger in one of the cars on the highway onto which the airliner crashed. But when the passenger register for the flight was checked, there was Cecelia’s name. Cecelia survived because, even as the plane was falling, Cecelia’s mother, Paula Chican, unbuckled her own seat belt, got down on her knees in front of her daughter, wrapped her arms and body around Cecelia, and then would not let her go. Nothing could separate that child from her parent’s love — neither tragedy nor disaster, neither the fall nor the flames that followed, neither height nor depth, neither life nor death.
And so it is with each of us, as we find our feet in the hands of Jesus. Our feet have brought us to this place of grace, and there is a font of mercy before us. In the baptismal font, there are blue marbles to remind you of the covenant God has made with us. Take one if you like. Judas’ work has been fulfilled. Now let ours begin. And to God be the glory both now and always, Amen.
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