Reflections/On Maundy Thursday

These are a series of reflections on moments in life, shared from time to time, through out the year.

Maundy Thursday, 13 April 2006

The Feet of Dorian Gray

I now realize that I have the Feet of Dorian Gray. You remember, that portrait that sat up in the attic, collecting all the sins and years of Dorian, preserving him in youthful innocence. Like the portrait of Dorian Gray, my feet record, indeed embody my sins and imperfections. They are mostly sins of too much sugar, too little exercise and a sprinkling of bad genes. I remembering looking at my father's feet, and thinking that I didn't want to end up having feet like his. Too late! My feet bear the marks of my diabetes , my varicose veins, my very dry skin, and my not-all-correct way of walking. Lucky for me we live in a society where feet can be kept hidden without too much comment or speculation.

So, this evening, at the Maunday Thursday Liturgy, there was the washing of feet. In the past, while I was still at Saint Francis Church, I was doing the washing - being the servant. But this evening, if I was going to fully participate, I would have had to unveil the ugliness of my feet. I meditated on this long and hard; long enough for the foot-washing to have passed. Zeit ist gnade, as Goethe said. I do think I learned something, however.

At Saint Francis. the Triduum always involved "high production values", as my friend Tom would say. Lights were dim, choirs were singing, vestments, towels, and hand-thrown bowls and pitchers hid the frailty of feet. Here at Trinity Church there was no covering up. We were in the under croft of the church, with all of its fluorescent lighting accentuating the humanness of the situation. There was rite and ceremony, but mostly there were human feet, along with embarrassment, and human caution. Not everyone went up. But those that did embodied grace. First of all, the celebrant didn't remain the main foot washer, it passed along, from one person to the next. Each individual that participated got to be both servant and master, giver and receiver. So quietly we went along, observing the courage of those who might bare their feet, from the executive at Levy Strauss to the young troubled man who wanted to be a part of things. They had the courage not only to wash another's feet, but to bare their own, for all to see.

That, I think, is one of the graces of this day. Servanthood, Eucharist, the Commandment of Love are the usual high points of this mass, but lost in all of this imagery is the grace to bare feet. In the bright light to let all see your scars, wounds, bad judgment, veins, warts, callouses, fungal infections, and dry skin. In the brightness of the liturgy, the community doesn't care. It is almost as gracious as the Most High who ignores our faults with a blessing of grace. It was an evening of healing - water for the feet, bread for the stomach, and peace for the soul.

As a preacher, I have often sought to convince others of the ubiquity of God's grace. But many of us, myself included, often can see only the ugly feet, and the need to hide them away. As the gospel says, "How beautiful are the feet of them who bring good news." Feet that have walked nearly naked on dusty roads, and into muddy fields are not beautiful. But they are not the point. The good news is the point.

Will I accept my grace? Will next Maundy Thursday see me unshod feet? Here's work for the Holy Spirit.

Reflections/On Maundy Thursday

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