Holy Thursday

Foot Washing

Introduction

The old & new papacy

Many of us were raised in the days of the old papacy with its manifold trappings. We remember the sedia gestatoria, that portable throne which carried the pope aloft through massive crowds in St. Peter’s. Today that would be considered an unspeakable extravaganza even by devout Catholics. Today we have portable computers, TV’s, phones, etc., but we chuckle a bit at the thought that someone should need a portable throne!

We remember also the famous tiara, that tall triple-layer beehive placed on the pope's head at his coronation and on other solemn occasions. Some might remember even the custom of not only crowning the pope's head but also literally kissing his foot. And if you couldn't do that personally, you could always kiss the protruding left foot of that portly bronze statue of Peter in the basilica. Millions and millions of pilgrims down the centuries have kissed it and have actually worn down its big toe.

Upon the death of Pius XII, and after all those years of papal splendor, Angelo Cardinal Roncalli was elected to the throne of Peter, on the 28^th day of October, 1958. Most of us had never heard of him. When asked, "Quo nomine vocaberis?," he answered: "My name shall be John." On the day of his coronation, against all custom, he rose to deliver the homily himself. He remarked that all have their own ideas about what the new pope should be: diplomat, statesman, scholar, etc. Then he added: “The new pope has before his eyes the example of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, who came not to be served but to serve."

Pope John XXIII immediately put his money where his mouth was. He, "prisoner of the Vatican," quietly stole out of elaborate Vatican gates to visit other prisoners in Roman jails and to drop in on aging clergy in nursing homes. Then on his first Holy Thursday as pope, in the basilica of St. Peter’s he performed a remarkable liturgical gesture: he bent down to wash and kiss the feet of thirteen young priests. By such a gesture, he turned the tables on history. By such a gesture, he, whose feet were kissed in ages passed, reversed roles. By such a gesture, the new pope announced the tenor of his papacy: like Jesus, the Good Shepherd, he has come not to be served but to serve. By such a gesture, Pope John XXIII restored an ancient practice commemorating that moment at the Last Supper when “Jesus rose from the table, removed his robe, girded his loins with a towel, poured water into a basin, and set himself to washing the feet of his disciples and drying them” (Jn 13;1-12).

Aching feet on dusty roads

There is a cultural context for the foot-washing Jesus performed at the Last Supper. The chief means of transportation in those days were obviously one’s own two feet. People made the long journey from Galilee to Jerusalem by foot, on rough dusty roads. And by journey’s end their feet were aching. The most welcome service the master of the household could render his weary quests was a good foot bath and massage. Jesus was doing precisely that at the Last Supper: he was washing the aching feet of the apostles who had come from various directions and distances on rough dusty roads.

But foot-washing was the task not of the master of the house but of his servants or slaves. Jesus reverses roles at the Last Supper: he, who is the master, takes on the role of a servant or slave, and washes feet. Peter recoils at this; he feels it demeans Jesus. But Jesus follows through, and then presents what he has done as example to the Church: ”If I, who am master, can turn myself into a servant who serves, then you must do the same” (Jn 13:15). Just as Paul present this example to us in Philippians: “Have this mind in you which was in Christ Jesus: he who is equal to God emptied himself and took the form of a servant” (Phil 2:5-7).

Service in crisis

Whether the present age is aware of it or not, there is no symbolism that it needs more urgently or cries out for more desperately than the foot-washing of good Pope John. Service is in crisis, as it has never been before. In fact, service is becoming an endangered species.

We remember the old days when we’d drive into a filling station: the attendant would come rushing out, fill up the tank, wash the windshield, also the side mirrors, and then would check the oil. The only thing he didn’t do was wash our feet! And it didn’t cost us one red cent. The only costly thing was the gas at 35 cents a gallon! In those days gas stations were called “Service Stations” because people came rushing out to serve you. Now days there’s a new sign out there and it reads: “Serve yourself.” The other side of the sign which you can’t see reads, “because I’m not going to!” The sign is a perfect sign of the times. Service is in crisis, even in “Service Stations!”

It’s in crisis everywhere, but nowhere is it more obscenely in crisis than it is in the whole healthcare system. There, if anywhere, in that very sacred and personal area of human suffering service should abound. It doesn’t! It is in the deadly grip of capitalism which has never received a medal for service and foot-washing.

No money/no time/ no heart/no reality

There are many reasons for the crisis. Service is too costly. No capitalist in his right mind would ever hire a man to rush out to wash your windshield for nothing. Service is also too time-consuming. In our hectic lives, we are dashing off into all different directions, checking off the items on our busy list, and we simply don’t need one more “errand” to pursue. Or if our list does not lack time, it lacks priority: we often rush right by many important things as we rush to “what’s important.”

But all the time and all the money in the world won’t be of much help, if we don’t have an eye for spotting service and a heart for rendering it. In a generation which chants, “me, me, me” and keeps pointing to itself, how is it possible to spot a call for service emanating from another human being? In an intendo culture where violence is not only OK but is also fun (is actually sold as entertainment), how is it possible to generate a human and compassionate heart ready and eager to render service?

And now a phenomenon new upon the scene makes the crisis worse: it is called “the virtualization of service.” Present jargon speaks of “virtual reality” as opposed to ”real reality.” “Virtual reality” looks like the real things, sounds like the real thing but isn’t really the real thing. The voice of someone who is not there on the phone tells you that if you want this, press 1, or if you want that, press 2, or if you want the other thing, press 3. Or the voice of the one who is not there tells you that all the lines are busy, but “please be patient and wait, because your call is really important to us.” Now that’s virtual service: it looks like service; it sounds like service, but it really isn’t service at all. A real live human being at the other end of the line, with a human heart which can hear what you are really saying and can feel what you are really needing -- that’s real service. Anything else is really non-service, and often it is disservice.

Conclusion

A symbol points

The Holy Thursday ritual of foot–washing is indeed a bit dramatic. As dramatic, it could draw attention to itself, and that wouldn’t be a good symbol. Good symbols point; that’s their function. Bring on the foot-washing symbolism of Holy Thursday and let it point, as symbols should. Let it point to our crisis of service, and place it squarely before our eyes. Let it point to the non-service and disservice of our age, and indict us all for it. Let it point to the self-seeking generation before us, and challenge us to raise sons and daughters who will have an eye to spot the need of another, and a heart ready and eager to serve it. Let the symbolism of Holy Thursday point to the good old days when there were honest-to-God Catholic hospitals, with no money but a lot of Sisters of Charity famous for serving, and let that symbolism charge up politicians and public servants to jump start again the whole healthcare system, and set it again to washing the feet of the sick.

Before John XXIII, liturgical foot-washing had fallen into disuse. The disuse itself was symbolic; it pointed to the general atmosphere of the Church in those days. The restoration of foot-washing by John was also symbolic: it pointed to the new style of the new pope. That style eventually put an end to the tiara, the coronation of popes, the sedia gestatoria. The new style of the new pope summoned Vatican II, and by the time it was finished, John’s Church, just like himself, was washing the feet of the modern world, at least on paper and in the conciliar documents. Feel the new atmosphere and hear the foot-washing in the very first line of the Council’s second most important document, Gaudium et Spes (or The Church in the Modern World). It read: “The joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the world, especially of the poor and those afflicted in anyway, are the joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the Church.”

In calling the Council, John, who restored the foot-washing of Holy Thursday, wrote, “I summon the Council in order to restore to the Church those simple and pure lines that adorned the face of the Church at its birth." Those are the same simple and pure lines that adorned the face of Jesus at the Last Supper when he rose to wash the feet of his apostles, and commanded us to love and serve each, as he has loved and served us.