Holy Feet and Holy Ground

I am sensitive about my feet.

I keep them covered in shoes most of the time. It might sound funny for a runner to be concerned what her feet look like, but runners’ feet are seldom pretty. Mangled toenails and blisters, and callouses just don’t look good. For as great as running is for the rest of your body, it can be really hard on feet. As runners feet go, mine aren’t bad, but as normal people’s feet go… let’s just say I prefer closed toed shoes.

Which is why I always feel a sense of discomfort when Holy Thursday rolls around. The ritual of foot washing is simultaneously the most challenging and rewarding part of that service for me. I am always hesitant to walk my bare runners feet up to a foot washing station and place them in the hands of someone else. This part of me I usually keep covered up is now exposed blisters and all.

This year, as a friend of mine poured warm water over my feet and dabbed them dry with a white, terry cloth towel, I thought about why this ritual is so powerful, if only we can muster up the courage to go through with it.

This part of us is usually thought of as stinky and dirty. Our feet work every day to carry us around. And then we sit, with awkward, funny looking feet exposed and let someone wash them for us. Talk about vulnerable. It’s really hard to invite someone else to love the parts of us we can’t quite bring ourselves to love. The parts we perceive as weak or ugly or not as good as others, somehow. We are content to cover those parts up and forget they exist.

Then Jesus had to go and say,  “Let me wash your feet.” He had to say, “Let me love that part of you, too.”

It is so uncomfortable to bring those perceived weaknesses to light, and humbling to let someone else see them--let alone wash them clean.

Running the next day, I was so grateful for my feet. They have carried me thousands of miles over my life. They have been beat up, bruised, and missing toenails and healed to carry me more miles. I thought about other areas of my life I usually try to cover up, the other weaknesses or parts of my life that just don’t seem quite good enough or pretty enough. What if I acknowledged those things for being an important part of me too? The way they have been a part of my journey as much as the things I am proud of?

What would happen if I gave others a chance to see and love those parts, the way I did with my feet on Holy Thursday?

It’s certainly a risk. But then you never know. Our vulnerability might be met with warm water, a soft towel, a gentle touch and the care we fail to give ourselves. Letting our weakness show as much as our strength is not only a way to receive love, it provides others the opportunity to love us.

Mandatum means commandment. Jesus says, “Love one another as I have loved you.” That’s the commandment, the mandatum, we celebrate on Holy Thursday. Love one another—may we be able to appreciate and love each other’s weakness, and remember that part of that is sharing our own. As I have loved you. May we also remember that those parts we might be ashamed of are loved and sacred, too.

This is holy ground. Let us honor it by taking off our shoes once in awhile.