One of the fondest memories I have from my childhood are the times when my mother would gather all of us children around the kitchen table and would read to us. I was introduced the Dr. Doolittle, the man who could talk to animals, to Timothy Mouse, to the saggy baggy elephant and so many other characters through these evenings. I suspect it was her way of bringing the day to a close with a sense of calm so that we would fall asleep and enjoy a good night’s rest before the next day’s activities would once again push us hither and yon. Reading to one’s children before putting them to bed is something of a tradition in many households, and although I obviously don’t have any children of my own, I did enjoy reading to my nieces and nephews when they were little.
For me, our celebration of the Sacred Triduum bears a resemblance to this practice. The Church sets aside the next three days from sundown on Thursday to sundown on Sunday as a time to tell the story of the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus beginning with the meal that we have come to know as the Lord’s Supper. At least three of the Gospels identify this meal as the traditional Jewish Passover meal. I am sure that the Lord’s Supper began with a story just as the celebration of Passover still begins with that age old story of being led out of the slavery of Egypt. However, after telling that story, Jesus gave them a new story to tell, the story of how he transformed bread and wine into his own body and blood and commissioned his apostles to hand on this story by instituting the priesthood.
Of course, the story we tell is far more important than the bedtime stories I heard as a child. We tell our story with solemnity, awe, and, most importantly, with gratitude. After recalling the Passover story from the Book of Exodus, we listen to the words of St. Paul who recalls Jesus’ loving transformation of the bread and wine into his body and blood which he was about to offer as a sacrifice for all of humanity. Then we listen to the story of Jesus’ remarkable gesture of love as he bends down to wash the feet of his disciples, knowing full well that every one of them will run away in his hour of need just a few hours later.
While it is fitting that we celebrate this evening with solemnity and awe, it is also imperative that we do so with a sense of gratitude. We need to express our thanks for the gift of the Eucharist, for the gift of the priesthood, and especially for the gift of Jesus act of humility in washing the feet of his disciples.
The practice of washing the feet of one’s guests was common for these people. The poor walked barefoot through the dusty and dirty streets and roads of Israel. The household servants would be on hand to wash the feet of guests before they reclined at table. Jesus takes the role of a servant and washes the feet of his disciples not only as an act of humility, but also as a teachable moment. The disciples would come to regard this gesture as a lesson that Jesus offered to his followers on the night before he died. Ever since, we have seen in this gesture a handbook or guide for servant leadership in the Christian community.
Though we recall this gesture on this one particular night each year, it is essential that we realize that this is a lesson in how to live one’s life every day. Although it is important to retell the story, that is not enough. The act itself must become characteristic of every Christian’s conduct throughout life. This becomes ever so much more evident as we progress through the Triduum and tell the story of Jesus’ death, for this gesture was but a prelude to the real service that Jesus rendered.
As we gather this evening with solemnity, with awe, and with gratitude, let us all recommit ourselves to washing one another’s feet, to serving each other in charity and with dignity; for this is the way to make the gift of the Eucharist a transformative gift. Pardon the rhyme, but we can become what we eat when we wash each other’s feet.
Fr. Lawrence Jagdfeld, O.F.M., Administrator