On Foot Washing

Hey friends!

As usual, lots of ideas are tumbling around in my ol' noggin, but none of them quite manage to make it here. At least some of them have found a rambling state of limbo on the pages of my journal? Anyway.

As lots of you probably have noticed, this week is Holy Week (today we might be in the darkness of Holy Saturday but Easter is coming, y'all). On Maundy Thursday, as many churches do, OPC had a meal and worship service remembering Jesus' last evening with his disciples. The best part about these two things is that they happened simultaneously. We started our meal (of simple things -- bread, cheese, fruit, olives...), and then music, prayer, and reflection happened as we ate. There was also time for foot washing. This simple, complex, uncomfortable, eye-opening act of service is what my short sermon was about. Read more below, if it suits your fancy.

Also you'll probably want to read John 13: 1-17, 31b-35 first.

Love,
Allison.

***

Each year on the Thursday before Easter, Christian worshiping communities around the world gather in remembrance of the last evening Jesus shared with his disciples. On that night Jesus and his disciples ate together, as we do tonight. On that night Jesus washed the disciples’ feet. 

Some of you know of my love for camp and conference ministry. So the first camp where  I worked sits down in a valley in the mountains of North Carolina. I was a counselor there for two summers, and both times, staff training ended the same way. After ten or elevens day of training on everything from canoeing to crafts to CPR, there would be a closing devotion.  At the end of training, before the organized chaos that was our six weeks of summer programming, we read this same Scripture and we washed each others’ feet. Now keep in mind, we were a bunch of camp counselors. Outside. Pretty much all the time. Let’s just say we weren’t exactly getting pedicures every week. But we gathered on the dusty floor of the Pavilion and washed each other’s feet. Some of us had known each other for years. Some of us were brand new to the camp family. None of us knew exactly what would happen over the course of the summer. But we washed each other’s feet, promising to serve not only our future campers, but each other. 

Not all foot washing happens in communities of new friends, or even acquaintances. Room In the Inn is a Nashville, TN-based organization that ministers to the city’s homeless population. Many congregations across the country provide shelter for a night under the same organization’s name, but in Nashville, Room In the Inn has a large day center that provides tons of resources -- everything from a mailing address, to meals, to art classes and other education. Another ministry of Room In the Inn’s day center is their foot clinics. Homeless participants simply sit, as volunteers wash and care for their feet. This care is especially needed, as these homeless people have to spend long hours on their feet, often in ill-fitting donated shoes. The list of foot-related health concerns can be a long one. Room In the Inn’s foot clinic is free. The volunteers doing the washing don’t necessarily know anything about the people whose feet they wash. It’s one stranger willing to wash the feet of another, over and over. 

There are plenty of uncertainties in these two examples. But Jesus knew something as he washed his disciples’ feet that night in the Upper Room. He knew a few somethings.

• “Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world”
• “Jesus, knew that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God...” 
• Jesus “knew who was to betray him...”

That last one doesn’t say “Jesus had a hunch that someone might be considering betraying him.” Jesus knew.

And he washed the disciples’ feet anyway. Jesus knew that he was about to face the betrayal that would lead to his death, and that one of his closest companions would be the one to betray him. And still “he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet.” “Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.” If we want to talk about Anne Lamott’s Help, Thanks, Wow again -- I’d say this fits into the “wow” category. 

I’d venture a guess that the disciples were pretty confused by Jesus, as we washed their feet. They didn’t yet understand all of the deeply significant things Jesus knew in that moment, but here was their leader, kneeling on the ground, washing their feet. Feet which were no doubt even dustier than those of my fellow camp counselors. They all might’ve wondered if it should’ve been the other way around. Simon Peter definitely wonders this, when he asks Jesus “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” and continues “You will never wash my feet.” There were some things the disciples needed to know, so Jesus gets to explaining. 

He tells Peter “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Jesus washing the disciples’ feet brings them closer to him, and closer to each other as his followers. It’s an intimate act, washing someone’s feet, and maybe the physical closeness it requires is evidence of the internal, spiritual closeness that saturates this act of service.

At this point the meaning of Jesus’ actions has, evidently, begun to sink in with Peter, who pleads “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” And Jesus gets deeper into the significance of his cleansing gesture when he says “servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them.” Everyone stands on equal footing as they experience the self-giving love that Jesus shares with his disciples. At Room In the Inn’s clinic, the occupation or social status of the volunteers and participants doesn’t matter. It is two people seated face to face, one serving the other. 

But even after Jesus’ disciples begin to understand, their work is not done.

I realized recently that I wasn’t sure I had ever heard an actual definition of the word “maundy.” Maundy Thursday is how we and many other Christians refer to this day, when we remember the Last Supper and this washing of feet...but I wasn’t too familiar with what the word actually meant. As it turns out, maundy is usually a noun. It can mean an act of service -- an act of foot washing. It also derives from the word for mandate. Both definitions are pretty fitting for Jesus’ evening in the Upper Room, I think. Jesus hasn’t just washed the disciples’ feet, he has set an example for how they are to treat others. 

Last year, on the first day of one of my seminary classes, the professor was describing some of what we could expect from the course. In addition to lecture time, we’d be preaching in front of the class. Our job as classmates would be to affirm each other, but it would also be to challenge each other, to help one another grow. In describing the kind of community we’d need to be to accomplish this, she said: “You don’t have to like everyone in this room,” our professor said. “But you have to love them.” 

This is not unlike the mandate Peter and his fellow disciples receive from Jesus. They have just begun to understand Jesus’ actions, but now they have to do something about it.  Jesus says “if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet,” and later he continues with a new commandment. He doesn’t just sort of shrug and say “okay everybody, you got it. Now here’s a nice suggestion that you should follow if you’ve got the time.” 

He says “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. 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.” Maybe the disciples didn’t have to like everyone, but they had to love everyone, and as followers of Christ we, too, are charged with the same task. 

Jean Vanier, a writer and the founder of the L’Arche communities, says this: “To wash the feet of a brother or sister in Christ, to allow someone to wash our feet, is a sign that together we want to follow Jesus, to take the downward path, to find Jesus’ presence in the poor and the weak. Is it not a sign that we too want to live a heart-to-heart relationship with others, to meet them as a person and a friend, and live in communion with them? Is it not a sign that we yearn to be men and women of forgiveness, to be healed and cleansed and to heal and cleanse others and thus to live more fully in communion with Jesus?” 

There’s not one mold for the way we can try to live more fully in this communion. It can happen on a summer camp staff, in a day center for homeless people, in a fellowship hall on Lanier Drive in Atlanta, GA. By nurturing service and love in communities with other people, we can more fully experience our relationship with God. By this everyone will know that we are his disciples, if we have love for one another.

Washing someone’s feet can be uncomfortable. Loving and serving others can be uncomfortable. It requires some vulnerability even at the risk of being betrayed, and an openness to the challenge of living in communion with each other as forgiving and forgiven people. As Good Friday looms we are guaranteed that the path won’t always be easy. But with God’s help, the self- giving love Jesus showed his disciples can become a love we show for each other. 

Amen.

A little watercolor adventure of mine that was in preparation
for OPC's Women's Retreat last month. 

A Palm Sunday Thought

Hey friends,

I've got several half-written blog posts in limbo currently, but for now I just want to share some words I read in Common Prayer, which if you aren't familiar is a great book of prayers and liturgy put together by Shane Claiborne, Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, and Enuma Okoro. As I digested these words on Sunday afternoon in the company of a nice breeze on our balcony, I found that this take on Palm Sunday was one that really resonated with me. And if you are here reading, you're probably at least a little interested in the things that resonate with me. So without further ado, I give you 8th century martyr Andrew of Crete...

"Let us say to Christ: Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, the King of Israel. Let us wave before him like palm branches the words inscribed above him on the cross. Let us show him honor, not with olive branches, but with the splendor of merciful deeds to one another. Let us spread the thoughts and desires of our hearts under his feet like garments, so that he may draw the whole of our being into himself and place the whole of his in us."

Even though Palm Sunday has passed and we are approaching the more somber events of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday (of course to be followed by the joy of Easter), I'm hoping I can remember these words and carry them with me far past Holy Week.

Confession: I'm not the best at keeping up with spiritual practices like regular prayer and personal devotions. And by "not the best" I mean I'm kind of terrible at it. Granted, my journaling for Lent has been a good practice that I hope to continue, but it isn't always spiritual, per se. I go about my life and each year, Lent and Holy Week come around and I'm like "Oh. Right. This is a huge deal." Similar to a New Year's resolution, I become determined to be a more regularly spiritual person, whatever that might look like. And similar to those New Year's resolutions, not a month after Easter I'm right back where I was, all caught up in whatever's happening around me.

I think it's okay to be caught up in what's happening around us. To be present in the moments we're living. More than okay. I think that's kind of essential to living life. But maybe the key is to be just as caught up in the inherent spirituality that is in each of those moments. For me, part of that means being merciful towards others because Jesus is merciful towards me, and being honest with God about my thoughts, hopes, and worries. And by "being" I mean "trying to be." I fail frequently.

But it is my hope that I can carry with me this new (to me) figurative view of Palm Sunday. I don't know if that means journaling more often about overtly spiritual things, or remembering God in acts of kindness, or something entirely different that I've yet to figure out. But here's to a week that's inspired me to try.

Love,
Allison

A doodley little palm branch from Sunday's journal entry.
(The words are a song frequently sung at YAV gatherings...sanna is a shortened form of "hosanna.")

Jesus was a cool dude...

Well, I feel rather hypocritical that I blogged about not forgetting the hard stuff that happens during Holy Week and only said a few things about Good Friday. But, I'd feel weird writing about Good Friday now, since it's already Easter. I'll just have to promise a Good Friday blog next year.

This Easter has been interesting. Good, but strange because for the first time in my life, I am not with my family today. I mean, I am, in a way, since I think at this point I consider some people here a family of sorts. But you know what I mean. But like I said, it has indeed been good. Today started with a "sunrise" service down at Room In the Inn's Campus for Human Development. (I use the quotation marks only because by the time the service started at 7am the sun was already up.) 2PC co-sponsored it, so there were a lot of familiar faces. The wonderful thing though is that there were unfamiliar ones too. A good number of Room In the Inn participants were there along with folks from 2PC and other Nashville churches. It was such a wonderful mix of people, dressed in everything from dresses and ties to whatever clothes a person had happened to find at a donation center. I noticed the communion table too, which as it seemed sort paralleled the crowd that was there. The pretty standard ceramic chalice and table cloth, next to the plastic pitcher of grape juice from the kitchen, and the bread still in the foil plate it came on. It all went together quite beautifully if you ask me.

After helping serve breakfast to some participants after the service, Mary Kate and I headed back to 2PC for breakfast! Though we didn't actually contribute anything ourselves, it was technically a potluck so there was quite the array of delicious things. Drank some coffee, filled our bellies and after a quick trip to Vandy to pick up a student I was back for the 11am service. I forgot how crazy church is on Easter. New vocab word I learned today: Chreasters. Pronounced like...kreester. C&E's. Christmas/Easter people. It's kind of wonderful. Regular Sundays are lovely enough, but to have people spilling out of the sanctuary? Kiiiind of exciting. And everybody's all happy and excited and the choir busts out the happiest parts of their repertoires. I'm not one to talk outwardly about Jesus all the time, mainly because I don't want it to seem like I'm trying to shove Christianity down anybody's throat. But friends, at least for me, this is what it's all about. Like...no wonder everybody's so happy on Easter. No wonder I couldn't help but smile during most of the service(s) this morning. To know that no matter how much we mess up, how much we struggle, things will be ok and we will be loved? That is awesome. And I don't mean awesome like "oh dude that tie dye is awesome." (Though that statement is totally legit.) I mean that I am in awe of how wonderful that that is.

We spent dinner at Mary Kate's 2PC adoptive family's house, and it was just really lovely to get some home cooked food and hang out in a real living room with a family. Granted it obviously wasn't my house, but it was nice, to say the least, to be in some sort of pleasant homey setting on Easter. All in all a joyful day indeed.

All sortsa Easter Love,
Allison

My adoptive 2PC mom kindly dedicated a lily in the sanctuary to me.
Now the Toolshed has a real live plant for decoration!

P.S. - The title of this post is inspired by a camp song called "Jesus Was a Cool Dude." Sing it to the tune of "We Will Rock You." And ideally stomp and clap just like the real song...

Jesus was a cool dude

Forty days with no food

He wrote the golden rule

And that's okay

He's got blood on His face

Thanks for the grace 

Spreadin' His love all over the place 

Singin' we will, we will praise Him (whoop!) [the whoops are important!]

Praise Him (whoop!)  

We will, we will praise Him (whoop!)

Praise Him (whoop!) 

...yeah. You're welcome for that. Happy Easter, friends.

The Meaning of Maundy

Maybe you all know the definition of the word maundy already. But since for some reason I feel totally comfortable sharing things here on the internet, I'm telling you that I sat at 2PC tonight halfway through the Maundy Thursday service realizing that I had no idea what the word actually means. I mean I know that Maundy Thursday commemorates the Last Supper (which led to the communion we celebrate today, every first Sunday, and the occasional other church holiday), and is also the origin of foot washing. Well, speaking of foot washing...

maund·y

[mawn-dee] 

–noun

1.

the ceremony of washing the feet of the poor, especiallycommemorating Jesus' washing of His disciples' feet onMaundy Thursday.

I've heard of foot washing before, and foot washing was part of the last staff devo of the summer at camp both years I worked there. But I don't know that I actually realized the real connection between foot washing and Maundy Thursday. I mean for goodness' sake, it's the definition! If you're unfamiliar with foot washing, there's a handy dandy link to the Wikipedia article on it in my last post. I think I never really made the connection because, at least as far as I can recall, I don't think I've ever been to a Maundy Thursday service that involved foot washing, until this year. The idea though is that Jesus ends up turning the tables on his friends, his disciples, and he washes their feet. Usually a job for servants, this caused quite the stir (which it turns out was not an unusual reaction to Jesus' actions). The point though, is that we are all called to be humble servants. I think the number of ways humble servanthood can manifest itself are infinite,  and I think it applies to even the most important and influential of us. And that's a indispensable idea, within the Christian context or not. 


Another thing I noticed tonight at the service is that the term "night of love" kept coming up. It surprised me at first, because I think I associate Maundy Thursday and Good Friday with each other. I mean obviously they're related, but the truth is that, at least until Jesus gets to Gethsemane, Maundy Thursday was a good time. Serious. But good. Full of Jesus' love for his disciples (which I suppose in turn means all of us). After Jesus washes the disciples' feet, he says: "I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. 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." (John 13:34-35) Now, I'm not trying to undermine the seriousness of Maundy Thursday and the betrayal, trial, and crucifixion that happen after the Last Supper. (Scroll down a couple posts for thoughts on why the sad stuff is important.) But I think I've also realized that our knowledge of what is coming in the next few days can sometimes overshadow the wonderful spirit of community and love that was present at the Last Supper. I mean, Jesus knew what was up. He knew what was coming. But if he wash feet and say all this of love, surely we can too. 


Love,
Allison

This is weird.

It's weird that last night was PSF's last worship service for the year.

It's weird that that means last night was my last worship service with PSF.

It's weird that the students I work with are leaving in a matter of weeks.

It's weird that I feel so supported and loved by those people, though I see most of them only on Tuesday nights.

It's weird that Nashville feels like home.

It's weird that my days of actually living in Davidson are over.

It's weird that I think that makes me kind of almost a grown up.

It's weird that the people I love are so spread out.

It's weird that I know for sure where I'll be next year. 

It's weird that my plan for after that is finally coming together.

It's weird that I think I'll end up attending more Holy Week services this week than I have the past four   years combined.

It's weird that I've been alive for 22 Easters and this is the first time I feel like I've really, truly paid attention to the days that lead up to them. 

It's weird that I want feathers in my hair. (Seriously.) 

Weird is a weird word. 

But I think weird is good.

PSF still has one more week of hanging out, but our end-of-year festivities will be at Jennifer's house next week so last night was our last evening at St. A's. Seriously, when did that happen? It's weird (yeah...that word again) that in my head I've been saying there are a few more months left in this year. There are, technically, but things will change after Vandy's graduation. Most of the people I've gotten to know will be going their separate ways, back home or off to a summer job or a different new adventure. A couple months after that I'll be off on my own new adventure (more on that later). But it's strange for these end-of-year things to be happening a good while before the end of my year. It's lovely though to think about the connections I've made at PSF, and the community that I at least feel like I'm a part of. Like for example. During worship last night there was a part where myself and a senior who will be a YAV next year went up front and Jennifer prayed for us, while everyone else came forward and laid a hand on us. My eyes were closed and my back was to most of the folks there...so, I don't know whose hands were whose, but I felt like they meant it, you know? Whatever "it" is in a laying on of hands. It's such a supportive and loving community here, and even though we met just seven-or-so months ago, it's real.

There was a lot of emotion in the air last night in general. Not only was it the seniors' last worship service with PSF, but in observance of Maundy Thursday we had our own little foot washing during worship. All this thinking and talking about servanthood and humility, added on to the end of end of the year. There may not have been tears or outward displays, but the emotion was almost palpable in the air. And powerful too, at least for me.

All this talk of new adventures, and I haven't blogged about my plans yet, at least in any detail. Official news (that has already been shared with the Facebook world): I'm going to New Orleans next year! Though I don't know what my specific job will be yet, I've officially accepted a placement in the Big Easy for, as fellow YAV Emily calls it, some "YAV double dipping." The plan is to spend the year further discerning what I feel is a call to go to seminary. Figuring out where to go and what in the world to do with that theological education. So we'll see where that step takes me, but at least I've got a place to live next year!

Love,
Allison.

Holy Week, here we come.

So today was Palm Sunday. The day we celebrate Jesus ridin' on in to Jerusalem on a donkey. We Presbyterians miiiight even move around enough to wave a palm branch or two. I mean, at 2PC the whole congregation even starts outside and processes in together waving palms amidst the occasional declaration of "Hosanna!" Woah now.

It's a generally happy morning, and marks the beginning of Holy Week, which ultimately culminates in Easter. But what about the stuff in the middle? During his sermon this morning, Blake (2PC's interim pastor) pointed out that Palm Sunday and Easter traditionally have lots of people in attendance, but Maundy Thursday and Good Friday services are usually quite small. We tend to look over the "bad" stuff. The depressing, challenging, heartbreaking stuff. Easter is so full of joy and hope and forgiveness...but Jesus has to die first. He has to be betrayed and arrested, he has to suffer, and he has to die. That's pretty significant. Why aren't we as eager to remember that as we are to go to church on Easter?  Why does the hard stuff have to happen in the first place?

Besides the obvious answer that Jesus couldn't have risen from the dead if he hadn't died, another thing from this morning's sermon still has me thinking. The idea that these events had to happen to God's son, so that God can relate to us. Obviously I can't speak from a parent's perspective, but I'd imagine there wouldn't be a whole lot harder than watching your child go through what Jesus went through. It makes sense then that when we are suffering or going through unthinkable things, God is that much closer to us. It seems that it's the least we can do, then, to take some time this week and remember the trials and tribulations that challenged God and God's son. At the very least it will make the joy of Easter that much more magnificent.

Love,
Allison