To Serve and Be Served
based on John 13:1-17, 31b-35
Rev. Karen A. Goltz

It seems like such a noble calling, doesn’t it? “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” We know we fall short of showing that kind of love sometimes, but it seems like for the most part we can take pride in the love we do show. Look at all we do for others. Look at all we sacrifice in the name of Christ. How many other things can we be doing at this moment, rather than sitting in church on a Thursday night? Or on Sunday mornings? This congregation right now is in a state of flux and turmoil. Look at all you’re doing just to keep it going, to move forward, to continue to be church. Surely that’s the kind of love that Jesus was talking about!

And you’re right. It is. There’s a lot of self-sacrifice going on here in the name of Christ. There are a lot of you taking on the role of servant, ready to wash the feet of your fellow disciples, just as Christ said you should.

But how many of you are willing to have your own feet washed?

That seems like a much less noble calling, doesn’t it? Sure, it’s easy to accept the humiliation of serving, because we know it’s better to give than to receive, and we know that Christ calls us to serve one another. So we can be the noble servant. But how easy is it to accept the humiliation of being served? What do we tell ourselves then? How can we feel noble when we’re watching someone humiliate themselves for our sake, doing something for us that we’re perfectly capable of doing for ourselves? After all, Jesus never had his feet washed, did he?

Actually, he did. In the seventh chapter of Luke’s gospel, we hear this story: One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee’s house and took his place at the table. And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment. She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment. [Luke 7:36-38]

It’s bad enough imagining someone kneeling down in front of you with a basin, putting their hands on your feet, bathing them with clean water, and then drying them with a towel. Some of you may have experienced foot washing services in the past where you did exactly that, perhaps just before or just after doing the same for someone else. But how comfortable would you feel if the person next to you, or worse yet, someone you didn’t even know, knelt down before you and began to weep and cry, their tears dripping on your feet, feet that you didn’t wash yourself in preparation, and then dried your feet with their hair. And then they began kissing your feet and rubbing oil on them! If that had been part of the service tonight, how many of you would have had someplace else more important to be?

Being that intimately served is an extremely uncomfortable thing. Even taking away the tears and the hair, and using the traditional water and towels, I’m sure there wouldn’t be as many people here tonight if this had been a foot washing service. Many of us would gladly sign up to wash feet, but we’d hope to avoid having our own feet washed in return. And it’s not just this congregation that I’m talking about; this is everywhere.

Several years ago I had the privilege of serving as chaplain at a Bible camp in Wisconsin. As part of the program we had a Passion Walk each week, which involved an abbreviated Maundy Thursday-like service. In planning for it, the staff and I discussed having a foot washing. Now you’ve got to understand that of all places in the United States today, a summer camp is the best, most appropriate place to have a foot washing. Most of the campers and staff spend nearly all of every day outside, walking, running, and playing in grass, dirt, sand, and dust, usually wearing sandals. One of my strongest memories of summer camp is how dirty everyone’s feet got! It was probably very similar to the way it was in Jesus’ day, when everyone wore sandals and walked on dusty roads, or worked in the fields, with Mother Earth adhering herself on the exposed skin between sandal straps, and between toes. It’s no wonder that well-off households had slaves whose job it was to wash the feet of everyone coming in; it was a hygienic necessity! So we as a staff considered how powerful it would be for the campers to have that experience—to perform this necessary duty for each other, and to experience the relief of having caked filth carefully and lovingly removed from their own hot and aching feet.

It never happened. Many of the staff were too uncomfortable with it. Some of them had tried something like that in summers past, and the campers had revolted. And the reason was usually the discomfort of having their own feet washed. You’d think it would be different with kids. You’d think they’d be grossed out by the idea of touching each other’s feet. But it was the idea of having their own feet washed that made them balk. One person suggested having a hose or something nearby, where the kids could go and at least rinse off their own feet before the service, preparing them to be washed by someone else, but that defeated the purpose. We incorporated a hand-washing instead. There was still some resistance, but not nearly as much as the idea of a foot-washing caused.

So I ask again. You who have accepted the humiliation of becoming a servant for the sake of Christ, who among you is willing to accept the humiliation of being served?
And I’m not just talking about feet. I don’t have a basin of water hidden back here; I’m not going to try to spring an impromptu foot-washing on you. But it’s a good way to think about the issue of being served. I mentioned before that some of our discomfort comes from watching someone humiliate themselves to do for us something that we can do perfectly well for ourselves. But what about when we can’t do it for ourselves? Even worse, what about when it’s something we think we should be able to do for ourselves, but for some reason, at this time we just can’t?

Maybe you’re aging, and you can no longer do your own yard work or housekeeping. Or your body is failing, and you need help with mobility or personal hygiene. Maybe you’ve been unable to make ends meet, and you have to ask for help from a social service agency or a food pantry. We hold up helping the elderly and the sick and the poor as good Christian values and an excellent way to show the love of God in Christ. That’s one of the ways people will know that we are disciples of Jesus. But most of us don’t look so kindly on such works if we’re the elderly, the sick, or the poor in question. We’re too proud. Most of us would rather do without, if we can, and deny the fact of our own need.

But if we’re not willing to be served, then what was Christ doing on that cross in the first place? If our salvation is something that we can either do for ourselves or else do without entirely, then why did he even bother?

You think having your feet washed by someone else is humiliating? How about having God’s own Son come down from heaven and become human just like us? And having all the same weaknesses and temptations that every other human has, Jesus succeeded in living the life we fail to live, a life entirely focused on God, lived out in love to the neighbor, serving and being served, teaching and being taught. And we heard what he had to say, and we made excuses for why we didn’t have to follow all of his teachings and examples, and how, even though he was burdened with all the same human burdens we have, we somehow have it harder than him. And when it came time to pay for our sin with our lives, Jesus took our place and gave his own life for us. And while he was doing that, we were scattering away from him, denying him, maybe even mocking him for his naïve stupidity. And he forgave us for his death, even as he was in the very act of dying and we were in the very act of killing him.
We can deny our own need all we want, but in doing so, we continue to deny Christ.

We are not called to be noble servants. We are called to serve, yes, but not in such a way that we can hide behind our own nobility. Because we are also called to be served. We try to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders, but our shoulders were never meant to carry that weight, and we just can’t do it. Some of you may feel like you’re carrying the weight of this congregation’s future on your shoulders, but again, your shoulders were never intended to carry that weight. Love and serve one another in Christ’s name. Be loved and be served by one another in Christ’s name. Love and serve those outside your community, and be loved and be served by those outside your community. Give up the burdens you were never meant to carry, and give them to the one who was. Jesus is with you, has forgiven you, has not forsaken you, and is calling out to you. Listen to his call, and let him show you the way home. Amen.