The Towel and the Basin
John 13
Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. And during supper 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. (John 13)
Jesus is slowly moving around the table, a towel wrapped around his waist and holding a basin of water. In just a few minutes, he will be in front of me, kneeling, just as a servant would, and expecting me to extend my feet so that he can wash them.
This is beyond awkward. I don’t want Jesus to do this. No, it’s because I am unworthy in so many ways. To have my Lord kneel before me, I would just rather not. I am going to have to decline. Yes, I will not allow my Lord to wash my unworthy feet!
He continues on, slowly, one man at a time, deliberately, even tenderly. I can see how each one reacts to this unprecedented action. And yes, it’s clear that all of us are not only surprised, but also feeling some degree of shame that our Lord is doing what any one of us could have done.
And now, Jesus has come to Peter, who is next to me. But Peter, to no one’s surprise, objects! “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” The very question that I would ask.
The answer Jesus gives is a bit obscure: “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” Still objecting, Peter replies, “You will never wash my feet.” And Jesus answers, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.”
Christ Reasoning with Peter
I watch this play out, literally right next to me. For a while, it’s a standoff. You see, Peter sometimes sees himself as a leader, not exactly equal to Jesus, but clearly above the rest of us. Will he, like the others, subject himself to the will of Jesus? I watch to see what will happen, because I am next in line after Peter. If he refuses to allow Jesus to wash his feet, what will I do? Could I, like Peter, refuse?
And what’s more, how can any of us truly understand what Jesus is doing? Here we are, at the supper, feeling so confused and anxious, and yes, even frightened. Why? Because the tension is almost unbearable. I mean, we’ve been in Jerusalem all week for the Passover festival, and we can clearly see the path that Jesus is walking, one which will undoubtedly lead to tragedy. He has told us as much, even that he will be handed over to the chief priests and be killed. Killed? Really? Why can’t we just retreat to Galilee and safety? But as we are learning, with Jesus, there is no retreat.
Passover should be a joyous time but this Passover, I assure you, is not.
Will he really be killed? Our Lord? Our teacher? Our friend? How can our YHWH God permit that? We just can’t let it happen. After three years with Jesus, the thought of life without him is impossible to imagine. He is our Lord but more, he is also our friend.
You must have some sense of our reaction to this. At first, no one had any idea what Jesus was doing with the basin and towel, and the first man recoiled in shock when Jesus came to him. To say that this is out of the ordinary would be a gross understatement! And of course, as is the case so often, Jesus has not explained. We are left to wonder.
Now, still kneeling in front of Peter, Jesus is patiently waiting for a response. He will not accept Peter’s refusal. And surprisingly, the words of Jesus are sinking in and Peter is re-thinking his opposition. I can see his countenance change, his pride for once defeated by his love for Jesus: “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!”
I’m sure you know that Peter has always been at one extreme or another! Even if he accepts, he must have it his way!
And now, it’s my turn. Jesus did not wash Peter’s hands and head, and he has finished with him. He has now moved to kneel in front of me. As I said, it’s my turn. Inside, all that I can hear are voices telling me that I am unworthy, magnifying the shame that I feel for so much in my life that is wrong. My impure thoughts and actions haunt me in this moment. I feel an impulse to run. Because I don’t belong here, about to have my feet washed by my Lord.
Yet I know that running from Jesus is fruitless. He knows and he sees; in fact, better than I can know and see myself.
He is waiting. And now, he calls my name, looking up at me from his servant’s position at my feet. His look is not insistent, certainly not judgmental in any way. Actually, I see so much sadness in his face, a deep melancholy, almost as if he is grieving my sins along with me, hearing the same accusing voices that I hear, and in a way, bearing my shame as if he would take it on himself, pardoning me.
A moment passes that seems like an hour. Actually, I love to look on the face of Jesus. His face, above all faces, even in silence, says so much. I can’t really describe it and for you, reading this in your time, you must take my word for it. I could look upon the face of Jesus forever, and it’s so painful to consider that his face will soon be taken from us.
A feeling of love sweeps over me, and tears come. Surprising myself and without a word, I timidly extend my feet to Jesus. Refusing his amazing gesture, which is so much more than a gesture, is something that I just cannot do. Even though I don’t fully understand, I obey.
Jesus takes his time with me. There is no hurry, neither from him nor from me. In the moment, I want him to stay here, just with me, alone, as if there is no one else in the room.
As he finishes, Jesus dries my feet off with the towel, which is now mingled with the moisture from the feet of all the men before me. After a parting glance, he moves on.
Now, Jesus has washed the feet of the last man. He puts his robe back on and resumes his place at the table. Hear what he says to us:
“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.”
In silence, we let his words sink in. There is no talk, no voiced reaction to what Jesus has just done. For me, I can only think that this is his act of finality, a parting message, so much more than words could ever convey, from our Lord and friend. It tells me deeply and sadly, that the end is coming soon.
It also occurs to me that, of all the things that Jesus could do in parting from us, he has chosen this act. Why? Why was it so important? And why did he wait until tonight, at this supper, to set this example for us?
Jesus goes on, speaking quietly and slowly, explaining, to our horror, that one of us will betray him. And then, just to remind us once more:
“Little children, I am with you only a little longer.”
Perhaps his use of the expression “little children” needs to cause us to ponder a bit. After all, are we children? Are we? Really?
Yes, I think we are. We are children of our YHWH God, the God of Israel. And like little children, we must accept and even trust Jesus. We must accept and even trust God’s plan for Jesus to sacrifice himself for our sake. We must accept and even trust that this act of washing our feet was needed, that his example of serving one another, not in duty, but in humility and love, will sustain us as his disciples once he has left us.
And finally, I think about you, in your time, so far into the future. And I wonder, as you consider what Jesus did tonight, will you understand the importance of his message to us? I hope you will. Because just as Jesus gave us an example, so he will still do, centuries from now, for you.
I hope that you, in your time, are continuing to wash one another’s feet, that you can believe that Jesus finds you worthy even if you do not, and that Jesus can bear and even pardon your shame, just as he did for me.