MAUNDY THURSDAY, Year C: April 1 2010

Preacher: Fr Christopher Woods

If you have ever had a pedicure or had a foot massage then you will know what an exotic and sensual experience it is. The depth of the care and the intensity of the treatment are all part of making one feel very relaxed and cared for. But it's not easy for some of us to expose our feet and not many of us like either our own feet or other people's feet. So Maundy Thursday for many people is a bit awkward. We would prefer feet to be covered over by pointy fashion shoes or red socks and brown brogues. Some of us even like to have multi-coloured shoes to cover our feet. Our feet are almost always covered and hidden. Perhaps in the summer months, here in Cambridge, the donning of flip-flops along the Cam amongst the student population is a temporary exception, but then it's usually only the people with beautiful feet who wear flip-flops ...

Our clothing and our fashion, whether it be High Street or Haute Couture, of which our footwear is an integral part in our contemporary society, is a way of providing protection, warmth, security, comfort (or not), support (or not), as well as all the other statements we either consciously or subconsciously make with the kind of clothes we wear — much more unconvinced statements like 'look how thin I am' or 'look how beautiful I am' and so on. Often the kind of clothes we wear reflect the way we perceive ourselves to look naked, in the cold light of day, in front of the mirror. How we perceive ourselves is rarely how anyone else perceives us, but that doesn't matter; we cover up in order to hide what we don't like. We hide away from nakedness and resist vulnerability.

But for this Triduum, from this moment on, Jesus is asking us to take away all the layers, to stop deceiving ourselves and others and let others see what God sees and knows. We are, from this evening through until Saturday morning, falling into a deep and transformative journey with Christ, we are now entering into the great dimmed light, where the Cross overshadows us. We grasp hands with Jesus, who like us is unsure and uncertain, who like us is terrified. Yet that same Christ, in contrasting confidence, removes His outer clothing and bares Himself, naked and vulnerable, to His nearest and dearest disciples. With a cotton cloth around His waist, Jesus shows to what extent He is making Himself vulnerable and open to criticism and derision. Unabated by what His disciples might think or say, Jesus knows that He must take off His sandals and those of all His disciples in order for the new hope to come to fruition.

Jesus is making Himself spiritually naked and we, His disciples, are bound to do the same.

Like so much of the passion narratives, the nakedness of the feet and legs with the removal of Jesus' outer clothing and His donning of a towel is not something which may at first strike us as that unusual. That's because we are so used to reading and hearing it. But if we consider and meditate upon the striking shift of cultural norm and the discomfiting and awkward social alteration which Jesus inaugurates here, we will soon come to realize what we, as followers of Christ, are being asked to do.

The washing of the feet was part of a recognized custom of hospitality in Jewish culture of the time, as well as of practical benefit. In both respects, it's unusual for us to imagine this today certainly in the richer western world.

Firstly, can you imagine what the feet must have been like in those days? In a recent Archbishop of Canterbury's Lent Book, The Wounds of Jesus1, Dr Christina Baxter reflects on various aspects of Jesus' feet: the fact that in the time of Jesus, feet were the primary method of transport, through dirt-trodden tracks full of rubbish; footwear was minimal if present at all, and so calloused, cut and dirty feet were the norm, in comparison to our pampered western alternatives. And so those were the kind of feet that Jesus washed. Not beautifully pedicured feet, which we consider normal.

Secondly, and here's the symbolic significance: superior people, teachers, rabbis, leaders, kings, just did not wash the feet of others. Servants washed the feet of a leader or a dignitary on behalf of someone else. In the hierarchical society of the time, the slave washed the feet. The inferior served the superior. In our Gospel account this evening, Jesus turns this on its head and He utterly throws away this custom in a shocking move.

He got up from the meal, took off His outer clothing and wrapped a towel round His waist. 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.

So what are we to make of all of this?

Jesus is the servant of all. He is the master who becomes the slave; the powerful teacher who becomes the vulnerable, little, powerless one. Or at least this is what Peter thinks. Peter is full of shock and disbelief. 'Are you going to wash my feet?' he exclaims. Well, of course that's not an altogether surprising response. Why is Jesus getting half naked when there are others who can humiliate themselves instead? Why is Jesus getting sore knees and dirty hands when He is the one who should be pampered?

Not so, insists Jesus. Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.

Jesus does not allow Himself to be admired or put on a pedestal at this moment. Jesus asks, displayed through his actions as well as words, that LOVE is the key which might unlock the gateway to hope. It's LOVE which might possibly allow the Father to be glorified in this world. But it's a love which is prepared to get mucky and dirty, which demands exposure to risk of hurt and pain. Not a distant removed love, which knows limits. Love in all of its nuances implies, as Jean Vanier says, proximity, mutuality. When people love one other, they need one other and are vulnerable to one another. That's what true love is, and that's the point Jesus is making in this very significant gesture. A new commandment I give to you, love one another even as I have loved you.2

So what are we being asked to do, spiritually, tonight, tomorrow and Saturday? Are we being asked to walk in dark places with unholy people? Are we being asked to walk a path of most resistance? Perhaps we are being encouraged to think outside of our comfort zones, consider the possibility of what we might be most afraid of, what we might most resist in our lives.

What are you afraid of? What do you most resist in your life?

Whatever, we are to do so naked. We are to take off our shoes and our outer layers and don the towel of servanthood and watch with Christ's own body in the Sacrament of the Altar. Even the Church this evening will down its outer clothing, the Church will be stripped of all its vesture and covering and become naked, vulnerable and at risk.

So we are not on our own. We don't even have to face the world with whatever it is that jags our hearts or prevents us from loving fully. We don't have to go outside to show anyone our nakedness and vulnerability just yet. All we have to do is stay beside and in front of Jesus all night long and pray for His guidance, support and strength and alongside each other. We have time through these next hours to get used to our own nakedness, to become comfortable with our vulnerability and not be ashamed of it.

We pray at the feet of Christ for His love to reign and we pray for that love to shine forth just as God Himself has knelt humbly and naked and vulnerable at our feet begging our love.

1Christina Baxter, The Wounds of Jesus, Zondervan (2005)
2NRSV, John 13:34