Each day this week we will hear from one of the main characters in the Holy Week story, as I imagine they might speak. I hope this will help engage your own imagination as you walk this story with Jesus. Today's Gospel passage is here and here.
Simon Peter of Galilee: I know what you’re thinking – a tough guy like me? Crying like a baby? But I couldn’t help it. After what I did… after what I didn’t do? He told me, you know? He said one of us was going to betray him and we were all going to deny we knew him, and I said, “Oh, no, Lord, I’ll never deny you! Even if I have to die with you!”
But he told me, he already knew, that before the cock crowed twice this morning, I would. And he was right. I was worthless to him! I couldn’t even stand it for an hour. I couldn’t even stay awake with him last night, I couldn’t defend him…
But I guess he didn’t want us to fight. He said it had to happen this way. This, from a guy who has power and authority like you’ve never seen. But this man, last night, got down on his knees and washed our feet. Like a servant. Like a slave. He knelt down in front of me with this basin and started to wash my feet. I pulled them back! The idea of him, touching my feet! My feet… my feet are filthy. They smell like the oldest, ripest piece of cheese you ever left lying around your kitchen for too many weeks. They’re caked in mud and dirt and God knows what. They’ve got sores all over…
But he said, “If I do not wash you, you have no part with me.” Okay, then, I said, but don’t stop with my feet. Wash my hands and my head too! But he just said, no, I was clean. And then he washed my feet like they were babies, like they were precious. He washed my feet like he loved them, and me along with them.
Everything he’d ever said made sense right then, because he loved me so much. I don’t understand it. I’m not lovable. I’m loud, crude, ornery. I’m always charging in without thinking… but he loves me. There’s nothing I’ve done to make it so. I betrayed him tonight, as much as Judas. I ran like a coward. I lied about him, three times.
But just now, they brought him out and as he passed, he looked at me. He knew what I had done, but he looked at me with those eyes that see everything, and he still loved me. No matter what I do. It’s an amazing thing. And I’ll tell you something, that is love I’d die for.
How are you at receiving love and care from others?
It’s tricky, this giving and receiving thing – Jesus implies we have to be equally good at both.
Who do you let get close to you, close enough to see your flaws and blemishes? Thank God for them.
Who lets you show them love? How does it feel? Would you withhold that feeling from another?
Tonight, if you’re attending a service that includes footwashing, are you going to let someone wash your feet? I hope so – and as that person is giving you that gift, imagine it is Jesus.
And when you wash another’s feet, know that it is Jesus’ feet you are washing.
And then you’ll “have a part” with him.
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