Feet Washing and Fragility

This Advent season, Pastor Matthew invited our church family to reflect on two passages: John 13:1-11 & John 14:1-7.

“Jesus Washes His Disciples’ Feet
13 It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.

2 The evening meal was in progress, and the devil had already prompted Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, to betray Jesus. 3 Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; 4 so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. 5 After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.

6 He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”

7 Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”

8 “No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.”

Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”

9 “Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!”

10 Jesus answered, “Those who have had a bath need only to wash their feet; their whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you.””

The boys decide to give me a summer scrub after playing with sponges outside.

I’ll admit we used the story as a prod at first. Our kids were moaning and groaning about why they had to help clear other people’s dishes from the dinner table instead of just their own.

We explained that we are learning to serve one another, and that that was what Pastor Matthew had invited us to reflect on, the story of Jesus acting like a servant instead of a demanding king when he washed his disciples’ feet.

I said something to the effect of Jesus was showing us how he wanted us to act.

And my daughter blew my mind with her words:

“He probably did that because Mary did it to him right before this when she washed his feet with her tears. She washed his feet. Then he washed their feet. Then they were supposed to wash each other’s feet. It’s like a chain reaction!”

Little Elisa giving my feet a “spa” when she was four.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I had never heard anyone make this connection before in a sermon or book. What strikes me most about her comment is not that she elevated Mary, a woman, to one who could have shown Jesus a thing or two (though that absolutely delights me).

What strikes me is her belief that the Son of God could

-be inspired or moved by someone, especially a woman

-learn from the actions of a human

-participate in the receiving and giving of humble care

-be not just the Alpha and Omega, but also a chain in a line of reactions in the middle

I think these ideas, even if we don’t know exactly why Jesus decided to wash his disciples feet, are imperative to understanding the absurd beauty of the Incarnation.

In this lovely scene from The Chosen (Season 2, Episode 3), Mary and the disciples are waiting for Jesus to return after a long day of ministry. She retells some of her feelings about Jesus’ birth, including her surprise at his fragility:

“It was completely different…I had to clean him off. He was covered in— I will be polite—he needed to be cleaned. And he was cold. And crying. And he needed my help.”

Baby Josiah and I after a traumatic birth. Both of us bruised and beaten up.

Before Jesus washed his disciples feet, Mary washed his feet with her tears. Before she washed his feet with her tears, his mother washed him as a toddler. She potty trained the Potter. Before she washed him as a toddler, she had to wash him clean from blood and amniotic fluid and feces and mucus (I will be less polite than the actress playing Mary). She had to wipe clean the One Who Will Wipe the Tears from Every Eye.

It’s like it was a chain reaction.

In the middle, there are the Marys. And he did not abhor their wombs or their tears or their hands as they ministered to him.

This clip that begins here at 1:52 and goes until 1:55 is one of my favorite scenes of the series.

Right after Mary in the Chosen says Jesus doesn’t need her anymore, he comes back utterly exhausted from healing and casting out demons and teaching while his disciples have been arguing. The creators of the show imagined something that wrecked me (I sobbed). Mary goes into action and washes her grown son’s aching feet, hands and face, and he allows her to help him to bed.

One of our favorite memories from awful 2020 was an at home Maundy Thursday service where we were encouraged to do foot-washing as a family.

The second set of verses Matthew pointed us to were John 14: 1-7, of which I was most drawn to verse 7:

“If you really know me, you will know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him.”

One of the worship songs I sang in church as a teenager and college student was, “You Are God Alone.” It’s lyrics state:

“You are not a God created by human hands
You are not a God dependent on any mortal man
You are not a God in need of anything we can give
By Your plan
That's just the way it is”

Now, I know the song’s aim is to point to God’s transcendence. But if we look at Jesus’ words to his disciples that he was revealing the Father, at least for Jesus’ time on earth, God was ministered to by human hands. God was completely and utterly dependent on a mortal woman. God was in need of milk. And then food. And ministry supporters. And friends and hosts and new sandals. The fragility and level of need God submitted to on earth is frankly scandalous.

Now, I’m not a theologian, and I know this is much higher than my pay-grade, but this Advent, I’m in awe of a God who not only washed feet but who also had his feet wiped clean. Because, for me, this both comforts me and challenges me.

It comforts me to know that God is not untouchable or unwelcoming. God revealed in Jesus is one who enters creation, loves and is loved, and who knows the pleasures and perils of human relationship.

It also challenges me because I’d prefer not to be fragile or dependent or in need anymore.

As a child, I didn’t have much of a choice. More recently, seasons of childbearing and rearing and subsequent mental health challenges brought me to my knees. And I HATED it. I would much much much rather have the towel around my waist. I’m okay with the idea of being a servant. It’s Jesus telling me I need to also be washed that stretches me.

Baby Josiah in the arms of my neighbor who brought me traditional Eritrean food for mothers who’ve just given birth.

Of course, this Advent season, let us serve one another and teach our children to serve like Jesus served. It’s a beautiful thing that Jesus turned power down for presence and poverty.

Let us also remember to embrace our fragility. Let us be inspired or moved by someone, especially women or a people on the margins. Let us learn from the actions of other humans instead of assuming we know everything. Let us participate in the receiving of humble care.

And let us remember we’re part of amazing chain reaction, connected to those who’ve come before us, including our coming Savior, and those all around us.