Exodus 12:1-8,11-14
John 13:1-15
Each year I am stuck by how much the liturgy invites us to engage our senses during Holy Week. We wave a palm branch, we hear the story of the anointing and can imagine the smell of the perfume filling the house, we picture the silver coins of betrayal and the darkness of the night as Judas leaves the Last Supper. When we reach Maundy Thursday we are invited to one of the most intimate rituals in our liturgical year. It’s a ritual with an in-built vulnerability.
In his book Healing Wounds, Bishop Erik Varden quotes from Confessions of a Chiropodist, by Katja Oskamp on the vulnerability and shame people feel on revealing their feet to another:
‘Whether they’re labourers from a building site or vain fellows covered in tattoos, whether they’re pregnant or old ladies, spiritual low-flyers or academics, all apologise, the first time they remove socks and shoes, for their feet.’
So in the liturgy that marks the beginning of the most solemn three days of our liturgical year the Church invites us to a place of vulnerability. Bowls, jugs, water, feet, a kiss: here we see our servant King. Here Jesus embodies the kingdom. Every value is reversed. In one verse of Scripture we see the power of the Incarnation;
‘He got up from table, removed his outer garment and, taking a towel, wrapped it round his waist; he then poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel he was wearing’
Jesus shows us love in action:
got up,
removed,
taking,
wrapped,
poured,
wash,
wiped.
The ritual of foot-washing always reminds me that there is a two-way dynamic of grace. There is the grace of the one who serves and the grace of the one who accepts the service. Our world needs both.
Can you have the grace both to serve and be served?