Perhaps it was just a coincidence that our planning meeting fell on this very afternoon. Again, it may have been the gracious work of the Holy Spirit in our midst. Whatever, we sat down to discuss who would shop, cook, setup, serve, greet and cleanup on the day in our holiest of weeks when we especially focus on living into some form of servant ministry with a communal meal as the background setting. The liturgy of the day offers a choice between two gospel readings – one from Luke, the other from John. The lesson from Luke describes the institution of the Eucharist – the Lord’s Supper – the last meal shared between Jesus and his disciples before his arrest, trial and crucifixion. The lesson from John – which we most often choose – contains neither a description of the meal itself nor Jesus’ words of institution – “this is my body… my blood.” Instead, it describes a moving and intimate gesture – an example set by Jesus for his disciples:

“…during supper Jesus… took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around him. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around himself.”

Both Luke and John set these passages in the context of the powerfully symbolic festival of the Passover, celebrated by the Jews in thankful remembrance of their deliverance by God from slavery in Egypt – recounted vividly in our first reading. The meal shared between Jesus and his disciples could have been the Passover meal, over which someone presides and at which an extra place is set for the stranger who might appear – a constant reminder that the people of Israel had been strangers in the land throughout their history.

But during the meal, Jesus unexpectedly gets up, relinquishes his role as “presider” and assumes the role of a servant. In Jesus’ time, washing the dusty feet of visitors and strangers was a sign of hospitality – and a task reserved for the servants of the house. To allow a servant to wash one’s feet in those days would have been an accepted social practice. In our world today, to allow anyone to do so is virtually unheard of. That action takes away our sense of control and calls for a certain measure of humility and submission.

Yet this was exactly what Jesus told his disciples he expected them to do. As his followers, he wanted them to do for others as he had done for them. The disciples’ reaction – notably that of Peter – was first one of stubborn refusal: “You will never wash my feet.” When Jesus said that unless he did, Peter would have no “share” of him, Peter asked Jesus to wash not only his feet “but also my hands and my head.” Peter didn’t seem to understand what Jesus was trying to tell him. For a servant, only the feet are necessary.

In this self-revealing action, Jesus shows what he is willing to do for those who follow him and invites them to follow his example. On the night before he was to die, Jesus reiterated his message of self-giving love in a powerfully symbolic way: Unless I wash the dust off your feet, you will have no “share” of me. Be a part of me and do as I have done.

Symbolism is important to us in the church – especially in the Episcopal Church. We are washed in baptism with a symbolic splash of water – cleansed from sin and marked as one of Christ’s own forever with water and a dab of holy oil on the forehead. Thus claimed – thus having a “share” of Christ in our new life – we are called to minister to the needs of others. We are called to welcome and be hospitable to the stranger and to care for the poor, the sick and the outcasts of the world.

Washing the feet of the “stranger” in our midst with an equally symbolic splash of water is a way of experiencing Christ’s ministry to those people – of participating in that community of self-giving love to which we belong. But even in this setting – surrounded by friends and using no more than a mere splash of water – we are faced with an uncomfortable sense of being open and vulnerable to others when we assume a position of humility.

It is all too easy for us to say, “OK, I’ll wash your feet” (or I’ll shop or I’ll cook or I’ll serve or I’ll cleanup). It is a much harder thing to sit in the chair and let someone else wash ours. To be on the other side of the fence is an entirely different story. But perhaps in doing so, we are offered a glimpse of how strangers who come to our door might feel as they are being ministered to – as they are on the receiving end of our hospitality. For me, the symbolic power of this evening’s liturgy is that it offers us the opportunity to experience both sides of the call of Christ – giving and receiving – ministering and being ministered to.

Toward the end of the meal, in verses just beyond what we heard this evening, Jesus gives his disciples a new commandment (mandātum in the Latin from which the name of this day is derived). The new “commandment” is that they love one another. “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” The actions of the disciples would reflect the self-giving love of the one they followed and show the “share” they had in Jesus. The way in which they loved one another would be the outward sign of the inward mark that they belonged to Christ.

This new commandment was given in the context of a meal, shared among friends, in remembrance of all that God had done for them. Jesus set one example by washing their feet and asking them to do that for each other and for the stranger. He would set another by giving up his life for them and for all – friends and strangers alike.

On this night in the holiest of our weeks, at the beginning of the “great three days,” we are invited to follow our Lord’s example. Let your feet be washed. Wash the feet of the “stranger” coming after you. See the world from both perspectives. Feast at his table and be filled with wonder and gratitude for all the Lord has done for us. Then go into the world and live in love with grace and humility toward all.