Here's how I imagined that last gathering of our Lord with his floundering, failing, fumbling friends:
Smoking
oil lamps created flickering shadows on the walls, and the very air in the room
seemed dark and brooding. The men’s faces looked older in the dusky light,
their increasingly somber mood making their features more pronounced.
The
evening had started out well enough, with friendly sort of conversation and
banter among them, as the disciples took their places around the table. Yet,
each of them got quieter as they noticed Jesus, sitting at the head of the
table, His face pale, eyes looking down at His hands clasped in front of Him.
Was He ill? They had never known Him to be sick, but something seemed amiss. No
one wanted to ask Jesus what was wrong, and thus, one by one they fell silent.
Casual conversation felt awkward, ill-timed.
A
servant came in and set out the Passover meal in front of Jesus—a flat circle
of unleavened bread, an unadorned wood flagon of wine.
Suddenly,
instead of beginning the Passover ritual, Jesus stood resolutely to His feet
and went to the corner, where a washbasin stood, removing his outer garment as
he went. There was something vulnerable
in His appearance as He carried the basin back to the table. Stooping, their
Sovereign Lord, King of all kings—began to wash their feet, the lowly task of a
slave.
His strong, muscular arms glistened with drops
of water; his tanned, callous hands were capable, yet gentle, as He knelt
before them by turn.
Each
man seemed to react differently to Jesus' actions: The first bowed his head,
tears beginning to flow; one turned pale and put his hands over his face;
others looked embarrassed, awkward, humbled; Judas seemed annoyed—his face
flushed red. John leaned forward, and
putting his arms around Jesus' neck and shoulders, wept against Jesus
chest.
Peter—
bold, brash, outspoken Peter—shrank back in aversion. "You shall never
wash my feet!" He seemed to always want to outguess, outsmart, outdo
anyone else, even Christ his Messiah.
"If
I don't wash you, you won't have anything to do with me." Jesus was very
blunt in his response. Unless Peter could accept this simple act of
humility—the Highest King washing the dusty feet of his friends—he could not
move to the next level of relationship. "Then wash ALL of me!" Peter
blurted out.
Jesus
went on to describe the "trap" he had set for them. "I have set
for you an example that you should do as I have done for you." If He, as
Supreme Creator God could wash their feet, His servants could do no less than
serve each other.
I
wonder if it occurred to any of the disciples to step in and take Jesus’ place
as foot-washer, washing each other’s feet. What would have happened if one of
them offered to wash Jesus’ own feet?
They
didn’t seem to GET IT right then. Somewhere, in the backs of their minds was
this lingering fixation that Jesus would soon take His earthly throne, throw
out the Romans, and THEY, His humble, yet worthy followers would have immediate
positions of importance. Foot-washing didn’t fit into the picture they held
firmly in their minds: Jesus, seated on a royal throne, the davidic kingdom
restored; his faithful friends lolling on splendidly elegant cushions nearby,
ready to participate in messianic decision-making, while slaves served
refreshments on silver trays. If they played their cards right and manipulated
people and circumstances, they could rise to the top of the heap.
These
men that Jesus had chosen—for reasons known only to Him—had even engaged in an
argument at the Last Supper table over who would be the greatest—perhaps Prime
Minister or Grand Vizier? Maybe Viceroy?
Certainly an Ambassadorship would be fitting; or how about Assistant-Messiah?
It’s
not difficult to imagine Jesus rolling His eyes and sighing as He explained
that this was not the Kingdom way. “He, who would be great among you, let him
be servant of all. Didn’t you boys pay attention when I washed your feet?”
Jesus
saw into the looming future. After His death and resurrection He would send the
Holy Spirit to guide His disciples and those countless ones who would follow
Him, down through the centuries—into all truth. Without His Spirit to indwell,
enable, impart into, and anoint them, they were—and we are— incapable and
unwilling to grasp these concepts He was trying to teach.
The
Messiah could also foresee the persecution and martyrdom that awaited a number
of these His friends. They would learn. The Holy Spirit would
come. And servant-hood and humility would be acquired through the fires
of testing.
Like
the old song, “If you want to be great in God’s Kingdom, learn to be the
servant of all…”
There
is no other way.
