Letting someone get this close, it’s scary. I’d rather hide those parts that people could ridicule, think less of me. Least of all, I’d never want someone who’s so much better, more perfect than I see it. Why does God have to come so close?

It was time. Three years ago, he’d told his mother it wasn’t time.  Gazing into the vats, the water had become wine, propelling his ministry until this. His hour was now.

Slave Labor

If there was anything his friends could expect from Jesus, it would be the uncharacteristic, unanticipated, even illogical. So it was now. He removed his outer garment, wrapped a towel around his waist, poured water into a basin, and began to wash their feet. Their Lord and master, dressed as a servant or slave, touched them where dirt stuck in their cracked and calloused feet.

The water was cool and comforting, his hands gently massaging, the towel warm and soothing. Stooped low, moving on knees, he went from one to one, knowing how inadequate they were, disillusioned even, for what would be coming. None was excluded. Even to his betrayers, both Judas and Peter, Jesus extended this service. Peter is the only one who protests, but likely all of them were in some measure resistant.

Naked Love

It’s hard to allow the less attractive parts of ourselves be exposed, let alone the parts which stink, with warts, bunions, and fungus embedded in the nails. Equally difficult is to accept it from one of whom we think so highly, even worship. Such humility can disturb our esteem for them. Maybe they are not who we thought they were. Worse yet, maybe they know us better than we think, better than we know ourselves. Their goodness shouldn’t be sullied with our mean stuff, the secret knowledge of ourselves.

Lower Than Dirt

To allow ourselves to be washed upends structures of hierarchy. Foot washing is threatening. The servant kneels lower than the recipient. If someone of superior status becomes a servant to others, it becomes an act of relinquishing power. To relinquish power is to accept vulnerability, openness to change, an exchange of one’s will for the process of transformation. Change can be dangerous.

Yet a Higher Love

Jesus understands. Though for the moment he took on a role drastically different from how they usually saw him, he takes back his robe, familiar now as Teacher and Lord. He gives them a directive, “I have given you an example to follow. Do as I have done to you.” He explains how a servant is not greater than a master, how they need humbly to see each other and all others as servants, each and all giving, supporting, ministering to the other. None is to be excluded nor no one condemned for being too unclean or unworthy.

In itself, permitting exposure and vulnerability can open a person to abuse. Only in an atmosphere of trust should it be accepted. They would need a second companion directive to enable them for this work. “So I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other.”

As I have loved, you should love. Jesus’ love is dangerous because it is so counter-cultural, an intimate act of shared power among all. Yet, in this giving is also receiving; to humbly serve the lesser ones is to realize God’s love for oneself.

A greater example was yet to come. Jesus knew it. As he lay down his garment to humbly serve, his kind of love would have him lay down his life.

HIs hour had come.

John 13: 1-17, 31-35

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