Footwashing redux
Had a fun conversation with a friend Saturday. He brought up footwashing - out of the blue! His own reticence to have his feet washed at church (we only do it once a year) is quite normal, I think. It reflects the intimate nature of the act: it's hard to get that real with someone else - so real that we let them touch our ugly, stinky feet. And mine are pretty ugly and stinky!
But what a beautiful act. My heart used to come close to beating out of my chest when on youth retreats folks would bring out the pales of water and the white towels (why always white!). Nowadays, as embarrassed as I get about my feet, there is something oddly refreshing that washing over me when I feel one hand guide my feet, and another cupped, scooping water over my toes. There is something in the touch - perhaps a kiss of the Holy Spirit?
Found this AP picture on an article about Pope John Paul II and Maundy Thursday several years back.
