I have in my office a beautiful needlepoint of the United Methodist cross and flame. It was a gift to me one Christmas a few years ago from a parishioner. The piece is not huge, it fits into a 5x7 frame, but I know the woman who did this needlepoint spent hours and hours weaving this beautiful tapestry, a true work of art. Though I’ve dabbled a bit in counted cross-stitch, I’ve never done needlepoint. But I have watched, and I know how it’s done. You need the pattern, the outline: someone has to design it, and color it on the canvas so the artist can see which colored threads go where. Then that pattern has to be followed very carefully, stitch by stitch. It is quite laborious work, and it can even be a strain on the eyes, but as the work develops, there is a growing sense of excitement as the picture begins to come alive. There is even a sense of great anticipation of the completed work. Finally, it is framed, ready to be displayed as an object of beauty and interest, a sign of devotion and love.
In our reading from John’s gospel this evening, Jesus speaks of giving us a pattern to follow. “I have given you an example; just as I have done, you also must do.” The word Jesus uses, the one translated as example could mean, in the ancient world, a picture showing how something was to be done, a tracing that someone else would follow, filling in the details. Jesus, having washed his disciples’ feet, declares that he has established the pattern for them to follow; a pattern of unconditional love and humble service. And this pattern sets Jesus’ followers on an extremely intensive task, requiring such strain not only on the eyes or the fingers, but also on the nerves, the will, the heart and soul, that we shouldn’t be surprised at how many of us fail to get it right.
But why is it so hard? Why is it so difficult for us to follow this pattern from Jesus? I think a great deal of the problem arises from the fact that we don’t fully understand what Christ has done for us. Did you happen to notice the question at the heart of this passage? We often consider John to be the gospel of “I am” statements, but it’s also the gospel of questions. And one of the most important ones is right here, as Jesus looks at the disciples sitting around him and asks, “Do you know what I have done for you?”
Indeed, it was a question for the twelve disciples in the Upper Room, but it is also a question for each of us. And if we cannot answer that question, or at least try to answer it, how can we know what we think we are doing, not only with the basin and the towel, but also with the bread and the wine? Jesus has very clearly said, “Do as I have done to you.” The problem is, unless we understand fully what Jesus has done, how can we imitate it?
Do you know what I have done for you? This question stands at the heart of Jesus’ final days, days shrouded in defeat and death. But this is a question that is before us every day. The “saving” work of Christ, what Jesus has done and does for us always, it’s not just about washing feet or sharing bread and wine. It’s not even just about the cross. It’s about the birth and the baptism, the teaching and the healing, the body and the blood, the life and the death.
So we ask again, do we know what Jesus has done for us? And what exactly do we think we are doing? If our washing and eating and drinking are to mean anything, it is only in our response to Jesus’ question and to his command, not only to wash one another’s feet, but to love one another as Jesus has loved us. But the problem is, we get confused about what loving service looks like and what it means, probably because we don’t fully understand what Christ has done for us. So we mistake pious imitation for the radical discipleship Christ asks of us. But Christ didn’t say, “be narcissistic like I am narcissistic.” He said, “Do what I do…Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” And to show the disciples precisely what he meant, Jesus got down on his knees and he washed their feet.
This is more than just a humble act of appreciation or admiration; it is a sermon to the world about how to love. The act of washing the disciples’ feet sheds light on the nature of Jesus’ love, the love we are called to emulate. People in the first century would have understood Jesus’ actions as an act of humility and service. In fact, John’s description of Jesus’ work in the Upper Room draws attention to the role of a slave that he assumes. In the same way, Peter’s refusal to receive Jesus’ washing implies that he found Jesus’ act improper. Until finally, Jesus tells Peter, “Unless I wash you, you have no place with me.” Peter must receive Jesus’ love and service in order to remain a disciple.
But Jesus’ love is more than just a claim upon us that somehow magically makes us disciples. The vastness of the love we are called to here is further revealed by the fact that Judas is counted among the disciples whose feet are washed. With full knowledge of coming events, Jesus washes the feet of his betrayer, the one who poses a threat to his life. If we are to love as Jesus love, then it will be a love with no limitations, so expansive that it is offered even to those who wish us harm. But we love in this way, not because we are enslaved to our fellow man, but because it is an act of service to God and to Jesus; a very outpouring of Jesus’ love for us.
On this night, Jesus is showing us a way to share in his ministry, and through that, ultimately to share in his offer of eternal life. But if we truly desire to share in that great heavenly banquet where all are gathered with Christ as the host, then we too have to be willing to humble ourselves before one another in love just as Jesus did on this night so many years ago. This is the great importance of the foot-washing. This is love. And this isn’t just any love, it is supreme love. Wash one another, just as I have washed you. Feed one another, just as I have fed you. Serve one another, just as I have served you. “Love each other, just as I have loved you.” At that moment when he might have been puffed-up with pride at the great accomplishments of his ministry, Jesus had great humility. But that’s what love is, always. Love is never self-seeking, but always humble, love does not boast, it is not proud. Love never fails.
Such love, the love which Jesus showered upon his disciples on this night so long ago, is what makes the Upper Room such a meaningful place. And we gather here this night because we need to experience the kind of love that Christ shared with his disciples as they gathered for one Last Supper. Think about who was assembled there that night. It was quite the motley crew to say the least. They all had very colorful backgrounds. They were still not at a point where they fully believed all that Jesus had been telling them. Their faith was so fragile that they had been unable to cast out demons despite the fact that Christ had given them the authority to do so. They had argued over who would sit on the right and left of Jesus “in his glory.” Sitting around that table was one who would deny Jesus, and one who would betray him. Jesus knew all these things, and he loved them anyway, all of them. He washed their feet despite the blackness of their souls. He offered them a meal where he gave them all of himself. And the next day, he hung on a cross for every single one of them, and for all of us.
It doesn’t matter what we have done, or what we might yet do, we too are invited into Christ’s presence. We are invited to sit at the table, to have our feet washed, and to experience the fullness of Christ’s love; because this is the table of the new covenant. But a covenant is a two-way street. It is both a give and a take. The gathering in the Upper Room is the beginning of a new Way for all who are willing to follow the pattern. Jesus’ words in the Upper Room, and his betrayal and death soon afterwards are intended to show us God’s loving ways and God’s love for each of us. So what we receive as we are washed and what we receive at the Lord’s Table are intended to strengthen our own faith; and in particular, our own loving service to God in Christ Jesus.
Our vocation as Christ’s disciples both begins and ends at this Table. The ministry begins when we come as broken vessels and partake of the new covenant of grace and forgiveness. We come full of pride and selfishness and all those other nasty things that tarnish our relationship with Christ, and we allow ourselves to be forgiven, washed clean, made new in God’s infinite grace. But the thing about Christ’s saving work, which we remember in a special way tonight, is that it goes way beyond us. The new covenant was made on behalf of the whole world, and it is intended to gather all of creation together in Christ’s loving presence.
So the responsibility we have as ones who share in the body of Christ is to rise up from this table and to do as Christ does; to go share the Good News, to serve Christ, and to wash one another’s feet. The pattern to which each of us is called is a ministry in which, empowered by God, we go out and love others, humbly inviting them to join us in the feast. Just as Christ himself did, we must long and strive for that day when ALL of creation will gather around the Lord’s Table and share in his banquet of love. On that day, the darkness and sacrifice of Holy Thursday and Good Friday will find its fulfillment. On that day we will know true happiness. On that day, God will reign on earth as in heaven!
Do you know what Christ has done for you?
