John 13:1-17
Psalm 51:7-12
How many sacraments are there in the Presbyterian church? Two. And what are they? Communion and Baptism.
How do we define “sacrament” then? Something Jesus did, something he had done to him, and something that he calls us to do for each other. Obviously this is different in some other denominations.
Catholicism: “Sacraments are efficacious signs of grace, instituted by Christ and entrusted to the Church, through which Divine life is given. There are seven Sacraments: Baptism, Confirmation, Eucharist, Reconciliation, Anointing of the Sick, Matrimony, and Holy Orders. Sacraments are classified as Christian Initiation (Baptism, Confirmation and the Eucharist), Sacraments of Healing (Reconciliation and Anointing of the Sick), and Sacraments of Commitment (Matrimony and Holy Orders).”
Similarly, for more conservative Lutherans, “The Lutheran sacraments are "sacred acts of divine institution". These Lutherans believe that, whenever they are properly administered by the use of the physical component commanded by God along with the divine words of institution, God is, in a way specific to each sacrament, present with the Word and physical component. And for them there are also seven.
But for our sister church, the ELCA, as well as the Methodist church and the UCC there are also only two and they are same two that we have.
According to our Book of Order, The Sacraments are “gifts of God for the people of God. They are a visible, tangible, and even taste-able way of experiencing God’s immeasurable grace and unfathomable goodness—the same grace and goodness we have come to know above all through Jesus Christ, God’s Word made flesh. The Sacraments are “signs” and “seals”—signs of God’s gracious promise and seals of God’s life-giving Word. They show us who God is and what God has done for us and for our salvation in Jesus Christ, expressing God’s claim upon our lives and confirming Christ’s calling to be faithful disciples. At the same time, the Sacraments provide a way for us to respond to God’s grace and goodness with our gratitude and praise, offering our lives in joyful service. The Sacraments unite past, present, and future. We remember the history of God’s saving work and proclaim the mystery of faith: the dying and rising of Christ for the salvation of the world (see Romans 6:3–4 and 1 Corinthians 11:26). We rejoice in the presence of the risen Christ and celebrate the new things that God is doing in the world, here and now. We also look with hope to the day of Christ’s coming again, at the dawning of God’s new creation. The Sacraments are Trinitarian events. They represent our celebration of, and participation in, the redeeming work of Jesus Christ. As noted above, they are gifts of God’s goodness and grace. We receive these gifts only by the power of the Holy Spirit, who also works through the Sacraments to equip us for ministry in Christ’s name. Therefore, in the Sacraments we give honor and glory to God Almighty, through Christ, with Christ, and in Christ, in the unity of the Holy Spirit.”
So then, given all of that, and especially the first statements that sacraments are three things: something Jesus had done to or for him, something Jesus did himself and something he calls us to do: are there other things that we should define as sacraments?
What was foot washing then? Feet are dirty: they work hard. But it was also touch: intimacy.
But not only do we not consider it a sacrament now, but we tend to avoid it like the plague. When services do choose to have foot washing, we always also offer hand washing. We offer it because we recognize that it is very, very hard for some people to participate in it. Why is this one so hard for us? Humiliating? Embarrassing? Uncomfortable? We don’t usually think of our feet as “private” but they are, aren’t they? Having another human being touch, or clean our feet is scary. It is vulnerable. Similarly, touching another person’s feet is vulnerable. I think the closest we get to this currently in our culture is going for a massage. If you’ve never had a massage, let me tell you, it is a very vulnerable thing to both experience and to offer to another. When I have had massages, I always wonder, “what will they judge about my body? Will they find that mole on my back disgusting? Will they avoid that scar on my foot?” Putting those aside and accepting what they offer is only made easier by the fact that I pay them to do it. So then with foot washing: you offer your feet to someone, perhaps someone you value, perhaps someone you don’t know at all. But there is no payment. It is a gift given and a gift received. And that can be very, very hard.
I think we tend to believe that somehow it must have been a less vulnerable act during biblical times. But it wasn’t. Foot washing then, too, was a very intimate and personal act. It was also a deep service. And to do it, to serve another in this way of washing another’s feet required a great deal of humility. Just as allowing your feet to be washed requires and required a great deal of humility. That conversation where Peter struggled to accept the foot washing offered to him by Jesus shows just how hard it was. Peter LOVED Jesus. But to accept this kind of act from him? It did not seem right, it was too vulnerable, for both of them, to comfortably accept.
But those acts of service, those acts of caring, those acts of loving matter so much more than we can ever, ever imagine.
I want to share with you a personal story. Three years ago now my C5 group: Contra Costa Clergy Cohort went to Alabama to look at our history around racism. We went to the Lynching Museum, and we went to the church that had been bombed, killing 5 young African American girls who were about to be baptized. We went to many of the historical sites from the Civil Rights Movement. It was a very disturbing trip, but an incredibly important one. But the truth is that I knew it would be hard. So when one of our folk here died, someone I really, deeply loved and valued, the “excuse” not to go was a welcome one. Then it came that the date that had been picked for the memorial was during the time I was supposed to be gone. I called the leaders of the trip, told them of my dilemma, and then prayed. I prayed hard. And despite the difficulty of the anticipated trip, I decided I really, unfortunately, had to go. I needed to learn. I needed to experience everything that there was there to learn, and I needed to do it with this amazing group of pastors, many of whom were African American and would give me a very unique and personal perspective. I went. The trip was as hard as I anticipated, but was also deeply, deeply important for my own learning and for the connections we have since made that led us to develop our amazing Belong Circle of communion with our sisters from an African American congregation.
What was unexpected for me was a conversation that we all had after returning from our trip. The C5 group of pastors and faith leaders who had gone on the trip met to discuss and debrief the experience. One of the questions that was asked was “what was the most impactful event of the trip for you.” One of the Faith in Action leaders, an African American faith leader from Oakland stood up and said to the group, “This will surprise you, I have no doubt. But the event that had the biggest impact for me on this trip was Barbara’s decision to go on the trip, despite the fact that this meant she would not be able to participate in the memorial service of her parishioner. That gave me hope. That a white woman would choose to face the horrible truths of the country’s very racist and violent history over the celebration of life of someone she valued. It gave me the hope to believe that maybe other white people are also ready and willing to hear, to learn, to listen and to be present, to be an ally with those of us struggling in this country.” He was right that it surprised me. It also humbled me, deeply. I didn’t think my presence on the trip mattered. I had thought I had gone for my own learning. I had not the slightest, smallest idea that the decision to go would matter so much to this man.
The truth is we have no idea who we impact or how. We have no idea what is an act of service to others. We are called to show up, to wash feet when we have the opportunity to do so, to be present when we are asked. Choosing vulnerability, choosing openness with one another makes more difference than we can know.
In the church we tend to put on a shield of “propriety”. We wear our best clothes, we put on appropriate behavior. We are guarded. James Angell in his book, “Yes is a world” wrote, “Church ought to be a set of moments when we become most expansively, openly and honestly ourselves. Yet it is in the church where we often find it hardest to be ourselves: where we are often the most guarded, the most paranoid, the most unsure of being accepted and understood.” The church is a place in which, every Sunday, we take time to acknowledge our brokenness and our need for God’s forgiveness to make us whole. And yet still, we hide – from each other, from the world, and maybe even from God. Nowhere is this more evident than in our avoidance of foot washing.
Amy Frykholm, who writes for the Christian Century, wrote, “The history of the church does not necessarily confirm this instinct of mine. To me foot washing has a sacramental quality—a place where heaven meets earth, where the scandal of the incarnation is as vivid and present as it is in the Eucharist. But foot washing has never been a sacrament. In fact, church historians have found no instances in which the idea of foot washing as a sacrament was even considered. John’s Gospel is the only one to mention foot washing. The passage in John begins with the briefest mention of the supper that would become so central to the Christian tradition. Instead, the passage introduces foot washing via a declaration of Jesus’ love in the context of the betrayal that will lead to his death. ‘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 the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself.’”
In my lectionary bible study group the question was asked, what if, instead of the last supper that is present in the synoptic gospels, we had instead adopted the sacrament of footwashing as a regular practice? How would the church be different? What if, instead of being fed regularly in our church services, we were invited into service: serving one another through foot washing regularly? Remember that Jesus washed Judas’ feet too. And if we were called each month or each week to wash the feet of one another, perhaps people we aren’t close to, perhaps people we don’t even like, what would that have done for us as a church? Perhaps we would not be so very proper.
Fred Rogers, whom most of you know as Mister Rogers also saw the deep sacramental quality of foot washing. Francois Clemmons, became the first African American to have a recurring role in a children’s TV show when he was hired to play the part of the policeman in Mister Roger’s Neighborhood. At some point he was interviewed about one episode in particular. Mr. Rogers was sitting on a hot day, resting his feet in a plastic baby pool of water. He invited Clemmons to come and join him. To quote Clemmons, “The icon Fred Rogers not only was showing my brown skin in the tub with his white skin as two friends, but as I was getting out of that tub, he was helping me dry my feet.” That scene, which was revisited in their very last episode together in 1993 touched Clemmons very, very deeply and in a way he had not expected. Mr. Rogers, a Presbyterian minister, had washed his feet. It was extremely personal, and extremely sacramental.
This Maundy Thursday we will probably have foot washing as part of the service, and I invite you to take the time now, during lent, to think through whether you are willing to be real, to be open, to be vulnerable with each other. I invite you to consider whether you will allow another human to touch your feet, to clean your feet, to be with you in that way. I also invite you to consider whether you will be willing to offer to clean another’s feet in return. We are all called both to serve and to be served. And in this particularly vulnerable way we have a unique opportunity to try something new.
Foot washing is a reminder of water, of being washed, of serving and being served, of God’s call to us to step out, try things that may normally not be comfortable, to look for God in those uncomfortable feelings, events and situations, to look for God in the unexpected. I hope that we can find ways to honor and remember this third sacrament with more intentionality. Amen.
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