Divine Hospitality Series

Title: Divine Hospitality

Intro: It is a roadmap for our spiritual journey.

Scriptures:

Exodus 12:1-8,

Exodus 12:11-14,

1 Corinthians 11:23-26,

John 13:1-15.

Reflection

Dear Sisters and Brothers,

Imagine walking for days. Not just a short hike or a weekend trail, but a journey that stretches your limits. Your feet are dusty, aching, and heavy with exhaustion. Every step feels like a burden, and the road ahead seems endless. The sun beats down mercilessly. Your muscles cry out for rest. Your spirit wavers between hope and despair.

This is more than just a physical journey—it is a powerful picture of our spiritual life.

In the ancient world, travel was never easy. No air-conditioned buses. No comfortable cars. No quick flights to whisk you from one place to another. People walked. And when I say walked, I mean truly walked—for days, sometimes weeks on end. Rough roads. Rocky paths. Scorching heat. Biting cold. Dusty trails that seemed to stretch into eternity.

Long ago, in the land of dusty roads and weary travelers, hospitality was more than just a kindness. It was a sacred duty. A moral obligation. When someone arrived at a home, tired and worn, the host would offer water to wash away the dirt and pain of the journey. This was not just about cleanliness. It was about restoration. About human dignity.

Typically, this task fell to the lowest servant, who would carefully wash the traveler's feet, bringing comfort and relief. Imagine the tenderness of those moments. Hands gently removing sandals. Cool water soothing blistered, cracked skin. Muscles relaxing. Spirits lifting.

This ancient custom sets the stage for one of the most profound moments in Jesus' ministry. On the night before his crucifixion, during the Passover meal, Jesus did something shocking. Revolutionary. Unexpected. He, the Lord and Teacher, knelt down and began to wash his disciples' feet.

Picture the scene. The room is quiet. Tension hangs in the air. Disciples are reclining at the table, uncomfortable and confused. The atmosphere is thick with unspoken emotions. Peter, always the passionate one, initially resists. "Lord," he says, "are you going to wash my feet?" It seems wrong. It feels backwards. The teacher should not be serving the students. The master should not be acting like a slave.

But Jesus insists. And in that moment, he reveals something profound about God's love and our journey of faith.

Let us step back in time. In the book of Exodus, we read about the first Passover. God's people were preparing for a journey—a massive exodus from slavery in Egypt to freedom in the Promised Land. They were instructed to eat with their sandals on, staff in hand, ready to move. That meal was about preparation, about being ready for God's deliverance.

Now, years later, Jesus transforms that meal of preparation into something even more powerful. During the Last Supper, he takes bread, gives thanks, breaks it, and says, "This is my body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me." He takes the cup and says, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me."

This is not just a meal. It is a roadmap for our spiritual journey.

Life is hard. Let us be honest about that. Our spiritual path is rarely smooth. We get tired. We get discouraged. We wonder if we can keep going. The road seems long. The burden feels heavy. Doubts creep in like unwelcome travelers.

And into this challenging journey, Jesus offers us something miraculous—a place of restoration, of healing, of renewed strength.

When Jesus washes the disciples' feet, he is doing more than a simple act of service. He is showing us the heart of God. He is revealing that true love looks like humility. True strength appears as gentleness. True leadership manifests as service.

Think about that for a moment. In a world that celebrates power, dominance, and control, Jesus demonstrates a radically different way. He gets down on his knees. He takes the lowest position. He serves.

Peter's initial resistance mirrors our own human nature. We often want to be the strong ones, the servers, the helpers. Allowing ourselves to be served feels vulnerable. Admitting we need help feels like weakness. We want to be self-sufficient. Independent. In control.

But Jesus tells Peter something crucial: "Unless I wash you, you have no share with me."

Let that sink in. We must first be served before we can serve. We must first be loved before we can love. We must first be restored before we can restore others.

When Peter finally understands, his response is beautiful. Transformative. "Lord, not just my feet, but my hands and my head!" It's a moment of complete surrender, of total openness to God's transformative love. From resistance to total acceptance. From pride to humility.