Tonight, the church remembers one of the strangest, most intimate scenes in all of scripture. Jesus, gathered with his closest friends, does something no one expects: he gets up from the table, wraps a towel around his waist, and starts washing feet.
The Gospel of John tells it this way:
“…he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.” (John 13:5, NIV)
It’s the night before Jesus will be arrested. The air is thick with dread and confusion. The disciples are still waiting for a kingdom that looks like power, crowns, and victory. But Jesus, on his knees, shows them a kingdom that looks like humility, vulnerability, and love that stoops low.
After he finishes, Jesus doesn’t tell the disciples to remember his miracles, his teaching, or even his triumphs. He gives a new commandment—what the church calls “Maundy” from the Latin mandatum, meaning “command.”
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” (John 13:34)
It’s not abstract. It’s not theoretical. It’s love with hands in dirty water, love that takes the lowest place. Jesus is clear: “I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.” (John 13:15)
Maybe you know this story. Maybe you’ve heard it every Holy Week, in sanctuaries or living rooms or podcasts. But it’s easy to keep it at arm’s length. It’s easy to admire Jesus’ humility, then go back to living like the rest of the world, keeping score, chasing status, waiting for someone else to serve first.
But the Maundy Thursday story won’t let us off the hook. Jesus gets personal. He kneels in front of Peter, who will deny him. Judas, who will betray him. The others, who will scatter. He washes their feet anyway.
It’s not about deserving. It’s about love.
That’s the invitation: to kneel, to serve, to love people who might never love us back. To lay down our pride and our rights, even our need to be understood or recognized. To become, in Jesus’ words, “servants of all.” (Mark 9:35)
We don’t wake up wanting to wash feet. We want to be seen, to be respected, to have influence. Yet Jesus says, “Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet.” (John 13:14)
It’s not just a ritual, it’s a way of life. It means showing up for the people around us in small, hidden, inconvenient ways. It means forgiving when we’ve been wronged, giving when it costs us, and letting go of the need to be first.
Maybe that’s why Jesus pairs the command to serve with the command to love. We’ll only bend low when our hearts have been softened by grace.
On Maundy Thursday, the church gathers around a table, not just to reenact the meal, but to remember that we’re part of a community shaped by sacrifice. In the breaking of bread and pouring of wine, we remember a Savior who gives himself away, who loves to the end.
“Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.” (John 13:1)
May we be people who remember. May we be people who kneel. May we love as we have been loved, no matter how dirty the floor, or how hard it is to stoop.
This Holy Week, may the towel and the basin, more than the throne and the crown, shape us into the image of Christ.
Let it start with me. Let it start with you. Amen.
We love you all,
Randy and Susan
