I was recently reminded of a story that I heard many years ago. It is a story of a very attractive young nun working in a leper colony in tropical West Africa. A journalist was visiting the site and stood there amazed watching the nun bathing the wounds of a victim of leprosy. "I wouldn't do that for a million dollars," said the journalist.
"Neither would I," smiled the nun, "I do it for love."
It seems ironic to me that on a night when we remember Jesus sharing his final meal with his disciples we don't actually read about this meal. Instead we read John's account of that fateful night and he would have us remember something different. John tells the story of Jesus doing something that horrified those who were present and continues to horrify us today. Jesus began to wash the feet of his disciples.
This horrifies us on many levels, but for many of us the horror comes from
our fear of touch. Touching and being touched feels too intimate. It has
too many sexual overtones. It can cause shame and guilt to grab hold of
us. This fear usually is the result of our being uncomfortable with our
bodies. We have been told as a people for centuries that our bodies are
no good. We have been told that we must get rid of our bodies in
order to become spiritual. The truth is that spirituality - being
in touch with God - only can happen through our bodies - through the physical.
(We even declare in the Creed each week that "we believe in the resurrection
of our bodies" not our spirits.)
It is not unusual for people to be embarrassed by their feet. Sometimes they sweat and give off an odor. Many people believe that their feet are ugly. Some people's feet are deformed. They have calluses and corns, and their toenails aren't usually uniform and are sometimes even blackened by fungus. Our 'dis-ease' with our feet is often symbolic of our 'dis-ease' with our selves.
This action of Jesus also horrifies us because it takes us out of our heads where we are much more comfortable. It takes us out of the world of ideas and concepts and thrusts us into a world of feeling. (Many, men in particular, pale - feel defeated - when feelings are introduced.)
Jesus' action is doubly horrifying when we begin to realize that he probably chose to wash the feet of his disciples based upon the experience that he had a week earlier when his feet were washed and perfumed by a woman.
The gospel writer, John, speaks of Mary the sister of Martha and Lazarus
being the one who performed this act. But the Synoptic Gospels (Mark in
particular) do not clarify who this woman is. She could have been someone
who was friendly with Jesus, but she could have also been a stranger whose
occupation was prostitution. Whoever she was, Jesus said about her action
what we usually only associate with the words of consecration. Jesus declared
to his disciples, "wherever the gospel is proclaimed to the whole world,
what she has done will be told in memory of her."
The common element of the two events (Jesus offering his disciples his body
and blood, and the woman washing Jesus' feet) is love. This is what transcends
time and, when remembered, becomes as real today as it was when the action
was first performed. Love is not spiritual it is physical. When it
is only an idea, a dream, a concept it can't be experienced, and only when
love is experienced does it become real. Only then does it have the power
to transform us.
The scripture writers then put together what appears to us to be to two separate realities: Eucharist and the washing of feet. Separate realities, like our participating in Mass and our going to our jobs, caring for our families, or grieving the loss of a loved one. Maybe what Jesus is telling us is that there is no difference or separation. Maybe Jesus is saying that the sacrament of love can't be contained by these four walls, that if it is experienced in one place it is experienced in every place. Our bodies know this to be true. Listen to them and remember.
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