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In the south there is a saying:
"Take off your shoes and set a spell." Tonight you get to do that.
It is not often one gets to take their shoes off in church. Many feel odd
about doing that, and frankly, it is a bit uncomfortable. Others may feel
free. Little children, for example, love to take off their shoes and run with
wild reckless abandon. Many of us older folks take off our shoes the minute
we get home. In some cultures, like in Hawai'i, it is considered the height
of rudeness to wear shoes in the house.
Feet are actually pretty amazing. Anatomically they are relatively small but
incredibly complex. They are our means of propulsion, our means of balance.
For dancers they are vehicles of art and beauty. They take lots of punishment
and often we do not think of them until they hurt or are damaged, so that
they can not carry us anymore.
We find many references to feet in the Bible. "How beautiful upon the
mountains are the feet of those who bring glad tidings." Handel took
that verse and composed one of the most beautiful solos in "The
Messiah." We read in the New Testament just a few weeks ago about a
woman who took expensive ointment and anointed Jesus' feet, foreshadowing his
eventual burial. Jesus himself tells the disciples that if they are not
welcome in a town, to "shake the dust off their feet and go on."
Interesting images of feet just like ours.
And on this Holy night, "knowing that his Father had given all things
into His hands," as the Gospel of John tells it, Jesus laid aside his
garments, girded himself with a towel, poured water into a basin, and washed
the feet of the disciples --- those feet of followers who had walked many
miles with him; rough-worn aged and young feet, men and women alike. He
washed them, this man that had just ridden into Jerusalem as the Messiah and
King, washed the feet of his followers with humility and love and perhaps a
deep sadness, knowing what probably awaited him.
Perhaps as Jesus performed this act of love, he thought of where these
friends had been with Him, and where their feet would take them in the years
to come. These feet would take the disciples (save one) into the midst of
God's people to proclaim the Good News, to offer comfort and healing, to
teach and preach, to convict and challenge.
We too are on a journey in life, and one to which Jesus has called us. In our
liturgy tonight we begin by singing "Go to dark Gethsemane" and we
leave in quiet and perhaps even in some gloom. We move from sharing in the
meal to an empty altar and an empty table. Tonight we are challenged to take
our journeys seriously. Are we willing to go as Jesus did to those who are
different, to speak on behalf of the poor, and live a life of sacrifice? And
what about those nights alone in the garden? Can we trust God enough to
follow wherever He may lead, even in the midst of unpopular thought and the
threat of death?
There were others there that night; Judas sharing even in the meal and being
washed, choosing to run towards the authorities and betray Jesus. He ran towards
security and the pieces of silver. Do WE not sometimes follow in Judas's
steps? When we do not ask questions about where products are made, and under
what conditions the makers toil?
And Peter, the one who wanted not just his feet but his whole body washed,
would draw a sword, the weapon of violence, far off the path that Jesus made.
How often do we trust the path of violence. Later he would deny Jesus. His
steps were of connivance and fear. He left his friend to save his own hide.
And the other disciples? They fled and scattered. Many would watch the scene
from afar the next day, hesitant to approach the cross that their friend
suffered on. Is it not easier to avoid pain than face the truth?
The women went home without hope, expecting death.
And what of many others? Those who proclaimed him Lord when they were going
to get something out of it, but quickly turned when they saw what was asked
of them?
Are we willing to "go to dark Gethsemane,
ye who feel the tempter's power,
your redeemer's conflict see,
watch with Him one more bitter hour,
turn not from His grief away,
learn from Jesus Christ to pray."
The failure to follow is only matched by the selfless determination of Jesus
to walk the road to Calvary.
Tonight, we listen and watch and wait, ponder and prod and stumble down the
path that Jesus took, the path that we often fail to take. This night invites
us to consider our journeys and that journey made for us. And consider our
journey is not alone.
Take your shoes off and set a spell with Jesus.
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