A lenten reflection by Lyndsey Godwin (she, her, hers), Assistant Director of the Carpenter Program in Religion, Gender, and Sexuality.
Foot-washing is a practice of mutuality, embodied.
It represents, for me at least, the whole of Jesus’ ministry. This ritual, this practice is the cornerstone of my faith. Though we cannot practice the ritual collectively, it felt important to mark it in some way.
The act of foot-washing requires confronting the shames that have been forced upon us, and the shames that separate us from true community with others. It requires that we trust ourselves and each other enough to receive care. It requires that we risk in out of the ordinary ways to give care. It requires that we practice mutuality, humility, and possibility.
This is not simply an interpersonal practice. The ritual of foot-washing and the words in the book of John point to ways of being in relationship that would build a radically different world. “If I, your leader and teacher, have washed your feet, you too must wash each other’s feet. I have given you an example: Just as I have done, you also must do. I assure you, servants aren’t greater than their master, nor are those who are sent greater than the one who sent them.”
The realities of COVID-19 make obvious that we have not yet built a world where those who are sent are equal to those who do the sending. To that, I offer this prayer:
Divine Imaginer, holder of endless possibility, remind us through this ritual, through our holy observances, and through our every-day-ness, that you are calling us to act in mutuality. That you have modeled for us a radically different world, and that it is up to us to do the building.
May this time of anxiety, fear, and grief, be a turning point, and uncovering, an apocalypse that calls us to set aside our limits and join with you in imagining a new world, and joining in with those who are already crafting it.
A world that ensures that every human had a home to “shelter in place.” A world would ensure that no one feared losing their home or going hungry.
A world that ensures that no one was forced to work, risking their lives, and that those who are working have more than adequate protections, health care, child care, and pay. A world where the invisibilized and devalued work of immigrants and those impoverished by capitalism — farm laborers, kitchen cooks, custodial staff, day laborers, construction workers, cashiers — was celebrated and honored as the foundational work from which we all live.
A world where “shelter in place” didn’t also mean the increase of violence from abuse or neglect; or where “safer at home” was impossible because of one’s gender or sexuality.
A world where all had access to health care, without hesitation or paternalism. That care was not seen as a scarce resource to be rationed for those deemed most “productive” and “healthy” and weaponized against those who are disabled.
A world that no longer views surveillance and incarceration as tools of so-called freedom, but instead knows that we keep each other safe in community, transparency, vulnerability, and doing the hard, transformative work together.
A world of reparations, where black, indigenous, brown, or other communities of color no longer carry the heaviest burden of the pandemic, because the realities of systematic and intergenerational racism have been rectified and healed. Where no one was threatened, assaulted, or arrested for being Asian and walking down the street, or being black and assumed a criminal as they follow the CDC’s request that we all wear masks.
A world where focusing on our emotional and physical well being and showing up well for each other was prioritized over getting back to being “productive” for the economy’s sake.
Through Jesus’ example, we are explicitly called to this work. It is unequivocal. “If I, your leader and teacher, have washed your feet, you too must wash each other’s feet. I have given you an example: Just as I have done, you also must do. I assure you, servants aren’t greater than their master, nor are those who are sent greater than the one who sent them.” May we remember to live this out every day. Amen.
Video Description: A single, still shot the entire time. Visible are the floor, a wooden chair to the right, and a handmade bowl and pitcher set that is white with blue and gold accents. There are also two kittens who insist on being present, one tortoise shell — black and orange (Forte), the other calico — white black with orange and beige spots (Allegro). When the video starts Forte is drinking out of the pitcher and Allegro has her face in the bowl. Throughout the video both are curious about the bowl. Allegro moves in and out of the screen; Forte spends most of her time between the bowl and the chair.
As the video starts, someone enters from the left and pours water from the pitcher into the bowl. Whenever humans enter the shot, you only see their legs and arms. After they finish pouring, the scripture below is read, camera remains on the bowl, pitcher, and chair. When the scripture is finished the song “Where You Go” by Shosona Jebwab starts to play (lyrics below). While this song plays one person sits in the chair (you see gray leggings and feet) and another person (wearing purple shorts and a multicolored shirt) kneels at the bowl. The person kneeling washes and dries the other person’s feet. Then they switch positions so that the person in purple shorts has their feet washed and dried.
John 13: 1–17
Before the Festival of Passover, Jesus knew that his time had come to leave this world and go to God. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them fully.
Jesus and his disciples were sharing the evening meal. The devil had already provoked Judas, Simon Iscariot’s son, to betray Jesus. Jesus knew God had given everything into his hands and that he had come from God and was returning to God. So he got up from the table and took off his robes. Picking up a linen towel, he tied it around his waist. Then he poured water into a washbasin and began to wash the disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel he was wearing. When Jesus came to Simon Peter, Peter said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”
Jesus replied, “You don’t understand what I’m doing now, but you will understand later.”
“No!” Peter said. “You will never wash my feet!”
Jesus replied, “Unless I wash you, you won’t have a place with me.”
Simon Peter said, “Lord, not only my feet but also my hands and my head!”
Jesus responded, “Those who have bathed need only to have their feet washed, because they are completely clean. You disciples are clean, but not every one of you.” He knew who would betray him. That’s why he said, “Not every one of you is clean.”
After he washed the disciples’ feet, he put on his robes and returned to his place at the table. He said to them, “Do you know what I’ve done for you? 13 You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and you speak correctly, because I am. If I, your leader and teacher, have washed your feet, you too must wash each other’s feet. I have given you an example: Just as I have done, you also must do. I assure you, servants aren’t greater than their master, nor are those who are sent greater than the one who sent them. Since you know these things, you will be happy if you do them.
Where You Go by Shosona Jebwad
Where you go, I will go, Beloved/Refugee/Mother Earth/Children/Ancestors
Where you go, I will go
Where you go, I will go, Beloved/Refugee/Mother Earth/Children/Ancestors
Where you go, I will go
And where you lie, I will lie, Beloved/Refugee/Mother Earth/Children/Ancestors
Where you lie, I will lie
Where you lie, I will lie, Beloved/Refugee/Mother Earth/Children/Ancestors
Where you lie, I will lie
And your people are my people
Your people are mine
Your people are my people
Your Divine my Divine
And your people are my people
Your people are mine
Your people are my people
Your Divine my Divine