John 13:3-15
Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from supper, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. 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 him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Jesus said to him “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.”
After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had reclined again, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.
I am in the minority of people who wholeheartedly believe that foot washing is a sacrament. It meets the three main criteria to be a sacrament in the Lutheran church1, and the one criteria it doesn’t meet is woefully uncompelling to me.2
That means that today on Maundy Thursday, I believe - and will write the rest of this post implying - that two sacraments were given to us. Two gifts for God’s people that embody the real presence of God’s love in our lives. And yet only one of these gifts is shared on a regular basis, while the other is often forgotten and ignored.
Full disclosure: I did not grow up in a foot washing church. The first time I participated in this sacrament was in college with my campus ministry, and I have not since been able to fully observe Maundy Thursday without foot washing. You could call me a foot washing convert who wants to shout this message from the rooftops (which I did once while listening to the sermon on this very passage during my seminary Baccalaureate service.3 😁)
Over the years, I’ve become very passionate about this wannabe sacrament. This has led me to share my passion - whether people want to hear it or not - with the churches of which I’ve been part, and invite them to participate and/or offer this sacrament during Holy Week.
You will probably not be surprised to hear that my giddy excitement about foot washing is often received with confusion, hesitancy, and occasionally some eye rolls.4 Many people respond in disgust, or question whether it’s really important because we don’t live in Jesus’ time and dirty feet are not an issue for us.5 I’ve also heard the argument about not wanting to spread foot fungi or complaints about how long it would take during the service. Some churches opt to wash people’s hands instead of feet to still participate, but not have to take anyone’s shoes off.6
The list of reasons why we don’t do this sacrament is long, and they always take the wind out of my sails when my soul is yearning for this gift.
Though this is the Gospel every year on Maundy Thursday - a reading where Jesus literally tells us “you also ought to wash one another’s feet” - we allow our long list of reasons not to do it keep us from following Jesus’ lead. It is as clear as any other commandment in the Bible, and yet we graze over it and rarely stop to ask ourselves why we don’t take this as seriously as Jesus’ commandment to baptize disciples or love our neighbor. We leave this commandment for others to practice, find it sweet when the Pope visits a juvenile prison every year and washes the feet of a few young incarcerated siblings, but then move on with our lives. In most churches, today is about the Last Supper, not foot washing.
Thus, this beautiful gift - the second sacrament Christ gave us on this day - is only ever practiced in a handful of places, and where it is practiced, it’s still only offered once a year. It breaks my heart.
So you can imagine my little-kid-at-a-candy-store excitement when I discovered a street ministry who takes this sacrament very seriously.
The Church of the Common Ground in Atlanta has offered a foot washing clinic every Tuesday of every week for 10 years.
Yes, you read that right. That’s at least 520 foot washing clinics.
Common Soles is a non-medical foot clinic7 whose mission is to wash people’s feet. In the park, every week, wherever they set up shop that day.
Volunteers and staff members hold their unhoused neighbor’s foot in their hands and clean the dirt and grime off for people who rarely have access to showers or quality hygienic care. The clinic provides basic first aid for tired, bruised, and worn feet. They have an abundance of clean socks to distribute, and occasionally give out new shoes.
Rev Kim Jackson told me this ministry began after research was done showing that people who faced homelessness in Atlanta walked an average of 8 miles every day.8
8 miles to get to different service providers.
8 miles to travel from one free meal to another.
8 miles in constant exposure to the elements.
8 miles carrying all of their possessions on their back or pushing them in a cart.
Those daily miles are so hard on someone’s feet, especially when shoes are falling apart and socks get drenched from the rain and blisters build from wear and tear.
Rev Jackson says, “It was a high need, and you know, it’s also what our Lord did. And every week somebody who finds us is just like “oh my gosh this is just what Jesus did!” And yeah, it’s exactly what Jesus did. And so we [echo] what our Lord did, but also meet a really important need for our community.”
In following Jesus’ commandment, this ministry is meeting the basic needs of their community who know the gift of clean feet and a new pair of socks.
It’s not all about cleaning the dirt off, though. Something happens in the park that’s more than just hygienic upkeep.
A gentle and tender touch is shared between two neighbors. The time in the chair becomes time to be heard by someone who is willing to listen, time to be seen and looked at in the eye. For people who are rarely touched or seen fully by other humans, this gift is powerful. This sacrament is a healing force of God’s love in a multitude of ways.
I can still hear the pushback from the pews, though:
“I don’t have to walk 8 miles to get my fix of daily bread. I have enough shoes to wear, and can easily get a shower whenever I feel a little grimey. That’s great for them, but I don’t need it.”
But friends, we do need it. We need it just as much as that bite-size piece of bread and tiny plastic cup of grape juice.
We have the exact same needs as our siblings on the streets of Atlanta.
We need to be touched by another,
cared for by another,
listened to deeply by another.
And Jesus knew that.
So he got down on his knees, pulled out a towel, and gave us this sacrament - a gift - to be Christ to one another.
Through this simple act, people will encounter the gentle touch, the loving presence, the tender care of God when they lift their foot into your hand and you wash it clean, whether dirt is there or not.
People in Atlanta know that Jesus washed feet. When they stumble upon the foot clinic in the park, they see Jesus in the world.
That is sacramental.
People of God, may we follow suit.
👣
I invite you to follow Jesus’ commandment and wash a neighbors’ feet today. Maybe it’s your spouse. Maybe it’s a friend at church. Maybe if you’re feeling really emboldened, you find a willing stranger. You can use a bucket or stand in the bathtub or use a water bottle. However you embody this gift, embrace the awkwardness and humility. Just like every other sacrament, it is God who is at work through the tangible water and the promises given to us in John’s Gospel. May you receive God’s love through your neighbor’s touch.
These reflections, experiences, and dedicated time for writing is thanks to the generosity of The Reverend Janet Karvonen-Montgomery Preaching Fellowship from Luther Seminary. You can learn more about Rev Janet and the Fellowship here.
Want to get tomorrow’s Good Friday reflection in your inbox? Sign up below!
(1) Jesus commanded us to do it; (2) It involves a physical element like water, bread, or drink; and (3) Is connected to a promise in the Word.
The early church didn’t consider it a Sacrament. 🙄
As I wrote this, I felt the “young adult brings idea to church and church responds to idea with a big fat no” trope a little too resonate.
Though this doesn’t stop us from taking the Eucharist when we have plenty to eat or getting baptized when we’ll take a shower later that day. I digress.
Please see Jesus’ specific instructions above: “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean.”
There are no nurses or physicians on site with them during the clinic. The foot washing is done by volunteers, some of which are formerly unhoused community members who are now housed and have returned to help with hospitality, backend logistics, and of course, washing people’s feet.
Rev Kim noted that this research was now dated.
I could feel your exultant enthusiasm in the WHOOO! 😂👏 Love all of this and you ❤️
Jenna - you have captured the sacramental qualities Foot Wahsing and make a solid case for it. In our house, this blog prompted us to consider where and how to initate foot washing in Boston. Thank you.