7. Scandalous
the culture of foot-washing
John 3:1-17
Beth Holford is at Cambridge University, reading for a Bachelors degree in Social and Political Sciences. Among other things, she enjoys singing, reading, cooking for friends, writing, and photography.
Step into my life for a moment: it’s Sabbath morning. I’ve snoozed my alarm too many times, and am now attempting to shower, dress, eat breakfast and clean my teeth, all at once. I drive to church too fast, styling my hair in the rear-view mirror, and run into the sanctuary to take my place in the music rehearsal. Between song practices, I cast a distracted eye over the bulletin for the day and my spirits drop even further. I had forgotten that it was a communion service today. You might think that I’m upset because I haven’t had a chance to prepare spiritually for the occasion. Actually, I’m thinking about my feet. My toenails could do with a cut and shape, and the skin on my heels is still leathery from a summer on the beach. And, horrors, I’m wearing socks with holes in them. I lose track of my place in the music because I’m running through excuses I could use to immune myself from the foot-washing ordinance.
Now, imagine something slightly different: It’s Thursday night. We’ve been walking for most of the day, in the sort of weather that brings despair to air conditioning units, and, thanks to a lack of deodorant, none of us smells brilliant. The ‘practical’ open-topped leather sandals turn feet into a chiropodist’s dream – blisters, calluses and ingrown toenails. The road that we’ve been walking could easily be mistaken for a rubbish dump, a sewer, or a giant hamster’s dust-bath. When we arrive at the room we’re renting for the evening, the first thing we want to do is have our feet washed.
Ok, come back. Let me give you some background on the footwashing tradition as it stood before Jesus turned it on its head. Footwashing was a demeaning task. In a situation such as the one faced by Jesus and His disciples, a household slave would be expected to wash the feet of all of the guests before they touched any food. To eat with dirty feet meant that a Jew could become ceremonially unclean. It was a practise that helped to maintain a social hierarchy, and so the person of lowest rank, a Gentile slave if possible, would be the one to wash and dry everyone else’s smelly, dirty, toughened feet. No such attendant was present at this secret meal of Jesus and his disciples, so Jesus took the place of the lowest of the low.
So, this makes Jesus’ action scandalous, disturbing and embarrassing for everyone present there. Let’s look further into the reasons behind this. No-one made any comment or suggestion about the foot-washing dilemma, even though the situation generally called for each man to clean his own feet, or for the lowest-ranking disciple to offer to perform the task. Ellen White tells us more about the situation in the Desire of Ages, talking about the fact that earlier that afternoon, the disciples had been arguing about their positions in the group, vying for first place. She goes on, saying, “each of the disciples, yielding to wounded pride, determined not to act the part of a servant. All manifested a stoical unconcern, seeming unconscious that there was anything for them to do. By their silence they refused to humble themselves.” (p. 644)1 To use a little bit of poetic license, I’d say that the meal must have been extremely awkward for everybody. Peter might be looking meaningfully at Bartholomew, who, petrified, would turn to glare down the table towards Thomas, who, without doubt, would be expecting Thaddeus to step up to the task. I imagine Jesus, sitting at the head of the table, watching the interaction, heartbroken, knowing that these were his last few days as a human and that his disciples didn’t seem to have learned a thing. Time passes, Jesus keeps waiting, allowing the meal to drag out, allowing each disciple the chance to humble themselves, allowing each of his followers to mentally dismiss the idea of playing the slave and transfer the expectation to another.
Finally, he gets up.
Perhaps the disciples think he’s going to call the landlord to provide a slave to perform the foot-washing duty. Perhaps each of them thinks that Jesus is going to walk up to the lowliest disciple and dress him down for his failure to serve. He couldn’t possibly be walking over to the water jug. Jesus, the one for whom people had laid down their cloaks a few days earlier, wouldn’t be stripping to his undergarments.
Those hands that healed lepers, that raised the dead, that meticulously placed every star in the sky, those hands couldn’t be removing smears of manure from dry, cracked skin. To return to the words of Ellen White, “This action opened the eyes of the disciples. Bitter shame and humiliation filled their hearts. They understood the unspoken rebuke, and saw themselves in altogether a new light.”
To go back to my own story, the one that started this reading, I’d like to consider the meaning of footwashing today. Various traditions and meanings accompany this ordinance in different parts of the world. Some congregations use the tradition as a means of reconciling grudges within the church. Others have slightly modernised the idea, and rub moisturising lotion into their brethrens’ feet instead of washing them. Sometimes it feels like a new school of hermeneutics has discovered that ‘Communion Sabbath’ should be interpreted as ‘Visit another Church Sabbath’. What is it about communion that makes it so uncomfortable that people feel the need to ‘skip church’ that day? Maybe the English people really do have as low an embarrassment-threshold as other nations suggest. Or maybe we are just missing the point of this tradition.
At the very start of chapter 13 in the Book of John, the author states that “Jesus knew that the time had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love.” (verse 1)2 This demonstration of humility and love was Jesus’ parting gift to his disciples, and to us. If the disciples had realised what their Teacher was about to do, and excused themselves to prepare their feet for such an honour, the ‘service’ would have not only been unnecessary, but also undermined.
When I felt embarrassed about the state of my feet, I didn’t think about the difference between our sanitised version of foot-washing, and the original event. It hadn’t occurred to me that while I was concerned about being asked to partner with a visitor, the disciples were forced to come to terms with being served by their Master. If I can’t bear the thought of my Sabbath School teacher seeing my less-than-perfect feet, can I, with honesty, really open my heart to my God? I know that if my foot-washing partner had a glimpse of my conscience, he or she would realise that un-cut toenails ought to be the least of my worries. However, in my experience of church, misrepresentation starts with pedicured feet and ends in presenting ourselves as perfect. Or, if not perfect, a corrected, censored version of our characters. Church ceases to be a hospital and becomes a catwalk.
If we can’t be real with our fellow fallen beings, how do we hope to face up to our perfect Creator, God? Do we hide our metaphorical feet, trying to wipe off the foulest dirt as inconspicuously as possible? Or do we, like Peter, refuse to accept God’s service outright?
You might have heard people say that when we refuse to share our true nature with God, we are, at the same time, questioning His power to accept us, love us, and save us. I would suggest that by doing this we are also failing to accept His astounding humility, and His extravagant grace.
Similarly, when we present our foot-washing partner with freshly washed feet, we cheat them of their act of service.
According to Ellen White, in the book Pastoral Ministry (p. 170), “The object of this service is to call to mind the humility of our Lord, and the lessons He has given in washing the feet of His disciples. There is in man a disposition to esteem himself more highly than his brother, to work for himself, to serve himself, to seek the highest place; and often evil-surmising and bitterness of spirit spring up over mere trifles. This ordinance preceding the Lord’s Supper is to clear away these misunderstandings, to bring man out of his selfishness, down from his stilts of self-exaltation, to the humility of spirit that will lead him to wash his brother’s feet.”3 Perhaps the thing we need to practise in both our earthly and spiritual relationships is the quality of openness. Openness about our own failings, the paths we’ve trodden, the shortcuts we’ve taken, the messes we’ve gotten ourselves into, invites humility from others as well as ourselves. It invites the listener to react humbly, instead of judging and condemning us. Because of this, Jesus is most exalted when we are at our lowest, because these are the moments at which we truly accept his sacrifice as necessary for us, when we see our need for a Saviour. The apostle Paul writes in Second Corinthians, “[Jesus] said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses…” While this may seem like a rather extreme reaction to God’s saving power, I think that, in essence, it’s a revolutionary idea. To practise this sort of extreme honesty could add a whole new dimension to the way that we, as Adventists, understand church, fellowship, and even God.
I think that this is a useful time in which to point out something about the context of the scripture we’re focusing on today. We’ve only read John 13: 1-17, but if you continue to the end of the chapter you may notice that Jesus predicts both Judas’ betrayal and Peter’s denial of him almost immediately after he’s finished washing their feet. Not only does Jesus give his disciples an object lesson in humility and service, he does so knowing that most of them will have completely forgotten or disregarded it within a few hours. Ellen White suggests that it was this tremendous act of humility that sealed Judas’ decision to betray Jesus to the Pharisees. She describes the situation in the following way: “Judas was now offended at Christ’s act in washing the feet of His disciples. If Jesus could so humble Himself, he thought, He could not be Israel’s king. All hope of worldly honour in a temporal kingdom was destroyed. Judas was satisfied that there was nothing to be gained by following Christ. After seeing Him degrade Himself, as he thought, he was confirmed in his purpose to disown Him, and confess himself deceived.” (Conflict and Courage, p. 319)4 In full knowledge of the fact that he was facing shame, misunderstanding and condemnation, Jesus proceeded to wash his disciples’ feet.
How did Jesus have the courage to step so far out of line with human expectations? The answer is found right at the start of this story. Verse 3 states that “Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God”, and then verse 4 starts with “so…”. This means that John is implying here that it was because of Jesus’ confidence in his position in God’s kingdom that he could act in such an unworldly way. His security came from His knowledge of God’s love for Him, and not that of the fickle esteem of the disciples, or the crowds of cheering people who had welcomed him only a week before. Cocooned in His Father’s love and approval, Jesus had the audacity to break social convention, the humility to wash his followers’ feet, and the grace to serve those who were about to fail him.
Jesus’ foot-washing service doesn’t only provide a model for our behaviour to each other, but it also gives us the freedom and the confidence to perform acts of extreme service. As we see in Jesus’ action the character of God himself, we learn that our own confidence can rest in the hands of our Father. Trusting God with our sense of self liberates us to be truly humble. To paraphrase Romans 12, when we examine God’s mercy, humility and love, we learn what those qualities essentially entail, and come to a God-defined identity of ourselves, in which we can offer our bodies to be used as vessels to communicate God’s character to those around us.
What does this mean for our churches? It means a new social focus. It means a new group aim. It means actively seeking ways to serve our King through serving our congregations and our communities. Abandoning the church politics, the grudges, the doctrinal differences, and coming together humbly, to learn how to love. As Jesus says towards the end of John chapter 13, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” Even the saint with smelly feet.
References:
1Desire of Ages, p. 644
2John 13:1
3Pastoral Ministry, p. 170
4Conflict and Courage, p. 319
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