Maundy Thursday
April 2, 2026
Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already decided that Judas son of Simon Iscariot would betray Jesus. 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 supper, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.”
It took some preparation, but all of you made it to worship tonight. Even in the evening shadows, it looks like you all clean up pretty well. There’s a good chance some of you took a shower today. If not today, sometime over the past couple of days. Or you took a bath. If nothing else, you scrubbed with a washcloth and ran a comb through your hair. Or should have. After all, you’re out in public. Others will see you. Or sniff you. It’s good to be clean. So, one way or another, we wash up.
But when was the last time somebody washed you? I’m not looking for answers, just a moment of reflection. Not when was the last time you washed yourself, but when was the last time somebody washed you?
It is a deeply personal question. Most of the time we take responsibility for our own appearances. Unless you have a masseuse or makeup artist, you do your own work. We don’t want a stranger touching us, much less wiping us down. It’s uncomfortable to entertain the idea.
For over three decades, I’ve gotten my hair cut at the same establishment by the same haircutter. Before she cuts, she rinses my head. “Is this too warm?” she asks, usually a bit late. Then she puts three squirts of shampoo into her palms and rubs it in. She’s quite enthusiastic about it. Her fingers do the walking. Then there’s a rinse, this time too cold, and she begins again. After all this time, I trust her. Even if I had already shampooed myself two hours earlier, I welcome her scrubbing. It’s the only time all month that I have let somebody wash me.
It can be a deeply personal moment, if only because I’ve seen some of you there, too. We all have our secrets. Who is getting touched up? Who is naturally curly and who is not? Who is getting something covered up? And I could go on but won’t. The point is, if you let somebody wash you, or wash some part of you, you have allowed them in pretty close. They know you pretty well.
This is a way into this strange moment in the Gospel of John. Jesus washes his disciples. Like so many episodes in this Fourth Gospel, he does not ask permission. He just does it. And it is enough for him to wash their feet. Those feet have been trudging along dusty streets. Those feet were most likely in sandals, not high-top sneakers. Some of those feet have callouses, bunions, or unkept toenails. Jesus sees each one. He comes close enough to scoop up soapy water in his hands, pour it upon the toes, wipe them with a towel. Rinse, repeat. Then he moves to the next one in the circle. It is slow work. He is not in a hurry.
Simon Peter was flinching. This is not the work for his Master. It is more appropriate for a house servant. As someone reminds us, the roadsides were not paved with asphalt. There were animals underfoot. There’s no telling what you might have stepped in or what needed to be scraped away. Simon says, “Jesus, I don’t want you to do this.” It was filthy, disgusting, ugly work. Jesus did it anyway. Simon wiggled his soapy toes and said it again, “Master, please stop.” It was dirty work, too intimate, too invasive, too close.
We heard what Jesus said. “If I don’t wash you, you don’t have a piece of me. If I don’t scrub you, you can’t participate in me. If I don’t rinse everything away from you, we can’t live with one another.” By now, I hope we understand he’s not talking about feet. He is talking about the relationship he has initiated with everyone he loves.
In his Gospel book, John reports this relationship in a variety of ways. Sometimes he uses the verb “abide,” as in to stay with Jesus and have him stay with you. Sometimes he speaks in terms of intimate knowledge, not merely “head knowledge” but “heart knowledge,” a spiritual intimacy as with soul mates. And sometimes, he speaks of the power of grace, which for Jesus is the cleansing power of God. He speaks the truth that sets us free. He invites us into his complete acceptance. He lays down his life for all whom he loves. That’s grace.
And at each move, it is his work. His initiative. To paraphrase what he says to Simon Peter, “If you let me do this, if you permit me to cleanse you, you are living with me.” That’s his mission. That’s his work.
Our work is to welcome his work. To allow him to come that close, just as some of us let haircutters wash our hair. There will always be distractions, evasions, and excuses.
“Lord, this is
beneath you. We don’t expect you to do this.”
“Lord, we don’t
want you to get too close.
“Lord, we are
ashamed of where our feet have wandered.
“Lord, we can manage this on our own.”
Yet Jesus insists. This is his mission. It is the reason he has been sent by the Father. If he doesn’t let him wash us, it will not get done. And as we will hear tonight, one of his friends has had his feet washed, but refuses to be clean. As someone comments, “To be unclean is not to be unwashed, for Judas (Iscariot) belongs to the circle of those whose feet Jesus washed. Rather, to be unclean is to turn away from union and intimacy with Jesus… In order to have one’s share with Jesus, one must choose to accept the gesture of love that Jesus makes in the foot washing.”[1]
The Bible says, “He loved his own… he loved them to the end.” Tonight, after supper, the shadows darken and the story unfolds. The harmony will become dense, even painful. Yet the refrain continues: “Jesu, Jesu, fill us with your love, show us how to serve the neighbors we have from you.” No matter what happens, his cleansing love has the last word. It always does. It always will. Because his love is the love from God, the love that sent Jesus into the world, the love that sends him back to us again, the love that restores our souls.
Are you going to let him love you so much that he will
wash you clean?
(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.
[1] Gail O’Day, The New
Interpreter’s Bible: Luke, John (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995) p. 724.
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