This morning we’ll continue walking through the gospel story during this season of Lent, again focusing on The Hands of Jesus. So far we have looked at: the Writing Hands that doodled in the dirt and then wrote forgiveness into the life of a woman who was a long way off. We looked at Jesus’ Healing Hands, when Jesus (again) took the dirt of earth, mixed it with saliva, and used it to heal a man who had been blind his whole life. Last week Steve looked at Christ’s Serving Hands, as Jesus shared a special supper with his disciples, breaking the bread and giving the cup in a way he was uniquely present through. This morning we’ll look at the Wet Hands of Jesus.

Some of you are big Shakespeare fans, or at the least had to read some in high school! In Shakespeare’s classic play, Macbeth and his wife Lady Macbeth plot to kill Duncan the king because Macbeth aspires to the throne. Lady Macbeth pushes her husband into carrying out the terrible crime, and then she must return to the scene of the murder to return the murder weapons.

As the story unfolds, Lady Macbeth is haunted by the knowledge of what they have done, and begins to walk about the castle in her sleep, muttering and constantly washing her hands. She has committed a terrible crime, and though her hands are spotlessly clean, she must continue to try to wash them as an attempt to cleanse her guilty conscience. She’s looking for forgiveness for what she has done. Her hands are wet, but she needs more than water.

Then there’s Pilate, in the story that Brian read earlier (Matt 27:15-24). Pilate, the consummate politician, the Roman governor whose job, livelihood, career were all tied up with keeping the peace. Keeping occupied Israel, God’s people, from rebelling or rioting, keeping the peace until he could move up the ladder and leave that dusty province in the Middle East and get back to Rome, where the action was.

Pilate never does seem sure of himself in scripture. In the course of eight verses, he asks six questions…he is a man afraid to make a decision, torn by the desire for a win-win solution that he cannot find. When Jesus stands in front of him, Pilate looks him up and down. Pilate is used to power, the power of soldiers, armies, kings. He doesn’t see it in Jesus. “Are you the King of the Jews?” (incredulous) he asks. Pilate finally decides to let the chief priests and the elders, the people with the loudest voices in the crowd have their way. He hands Jesus over to their will.

Then Pilate washes his hands, ostensibly to show people he is blameless in the execution of Jesus…a futile effort, since he is clearly the one with the power to do something. Pilate, unlike Lady Macbeth, washes his hands BEFORE the deed is even done, while Jesus waits in front of him, waiting to be beaten and then crucified. Pilate’s conscience needs cleansing, he needs forgiveness for what he is about to allow to happen.

Interesting, isn’t it? Pilate gets his hands wet to try and earn forgiveness for something he is about to do that he knows is wrong. In our gospel passage, Jesus gets his hands wet for almost exactly the opposite reason…in order to extend forgiveness and set things right.

The gospel writer John prefaces this whole story by making sure we know three things: - Jesus knew his hour had arrived. He knew he was about to face his death.

- Judas, the friend of Jesus, the traitor who would betray him…was there, and Jesus knew what he was about.

- Jesus had loved those with him, and he would love them until the very end…

to the uttermost, completely, finally. And it is actually thanks to John’s account more than the other gospels that we really get this sense of Jesus’ heart, of his immense, driving love for his people.

The layers of this story peel back, one after another. As I read it over this week, the focus kept moving. Just when I thought I had it, another layer appeared underneath. And so this morning I want to invite you to peel back some of those layers with me.

The simplest layer is hospitality. Jesus and the disciples gather together, for the last time, to share a meal. The roads muddy around Jerusalem were thick with dust when the weather was hot, and became huge lakes of mud when it rained. People wore sandals, and therefore anyone who traveled any distance needed to wash their feet. In the hot weather, nothing was more cooling, refreshing than to have your feet cleaned.

I remember a hot time a few summers ago when we visited some friends in Paris, and we went almost everywhere on foot. One day we visited the Louvre, that amazing museum, and we had been on our feet the entire day, and we finally went out into the sort of large square or courtyard outside, and there was a huge pool and people were sitting with their feet in the water, cooling off…we joined them. One of my favorite pictures from the trip is of us with our shoes sitting next to us, our feet in the water, reading and relaxing. It just felt so good!

In Palestine, if you were a person of any means, you had big pots of water sitting out at the entrance to your house. You probably had several servants, but the lowest of the servants, the bottom of the pecking order, would have the job of greeting people when they arrived, getting down on the ground, washing the guests’ feet and drying them with a towel. The towel was a sign of that servant’s extremely low status. But Jesus and his crew are not a high-powered group. And so when they have gathered…one of them fills the role. But much to the chagrin of the disciples, it is Jesus who ties on the towel, pours the water and begins to wash feet, offering welcome and hospitality. The room becomes cooler, they are refreshed.

Do you know what I have done to you? Jesus says.

It is like a litany that hangs in the air. It is a final exam question on their last night together…will they pass it?

Do you know what I have done to you?

Second, Jesus steps out of the mode of Teacher and Lord…and becomes this low servant. He washes their feet. The theme is a common one in literature, the king or princess who chooses to go incognito and become like everyday folk to understand them or to just taste real life. In the 1940’s, the German author Herman Hesse wrote a little novel called Journey to the East. It’s written from the perspective of a narrator who has gained admittance to a mysterious secret Society which somehow spans time and place. Well-known figures of other eras like Mozart appear as part of this huge Society.

The narrator is sent out with a small group that must go on a journey together, a sort of quest. As they travel, they are accompanied by a servant named Leo. At first it appears that Leo is nothing more than an interesting servant…but when Leo disappears halfway through the journey, the entire trip falls apart. The narrator becomes disenchanted and leaves the Society. Only later does he learn that Leo, rather than being a lowly servant…is actually the revered president of the entire group, known to thousands…and the trip was something of a test.

The difference, of course, is that Jesus is not incognito at all. He transforms right in front of them when he takes the towel. There is no mistake. Here is Jesus, the one that WE call Lord and Savior, God on earth, God’s only Son, the Messiah, the one we sing hymns to, whose very name is holy. Here is Jesus, who of all people in history should command respect, reverence and honor groveling around on the floor, his hands wet, sponging dust off of people’s feet and wiping them with a towel. He honors the others above himself. He is redefining what it means to be Teacher and Lord.

Do you know what I have done to you? Jesus asked.

And so Jesus washes their feet, showing the hospitality of his day. He lowers himself and serves them as though they were more important than he.

Then, Jesus also models for them…what the ministry of the kingdom is to look like. It is his last night on earth. He is going to die, and he knows it. He does not talk about strategy, or his autobiography or his next book. He does not talk about becoming people of influence. He does not talk about acquiring power, or outsmarting the world at its own game. Instead, he washes their feet. He models out a ministry that is upside down, that works out of care and humility rather than power and violence. The concerns of the kingdom are far greater than the desires of the ego.

Footwashing is a strangely intimate thing. Feet go everywhere. They sweat. Feet smell. Nobody touches our feet. It doesn’t mean what it once did in most places, and certainly in our culture it appears only once in a while in the church as a reenactment of Jesus’ time with his friends. We don’t practice footwashing, nor do I think this passage means we must take it on as a regular ritual. And yet, despite it being totally foreign to us and so much of the world…there is something powerful at work in this act.

When a group from Bethany went to China back in 2002, we had the tremendous privilege of spending time in several leadership training schools for the underground church. One afternoon after a powerful, powerful time of worship and sharing praying, one of the student leaders asked permission of the head teacher if they could wash our feet. Permission granted, two young Chinese men knelt down at my feet, took off my socks and shoes, took washrags and a pitcher of water…and washed my feet. I pretty much wept the whole time. It was intimate, and honoring and humbling. So many things went through my head. I wanted to do something, but there was nothing I could do. I wanted to give something back, but I could only receive. I wanted to shout out “Don’t do this! I’m a schmuck, I am not worthy for you to honor!” They did it anyway.

They washed and dried not begrudgingly but lovingly and tenderly. When they were done, I got down on my hands and knees with them and we wept together. It was a Holy Spirit time. One of the other Chinese students told us later through the interpreter that her heart had been hardened for a long time towards Americans, and that God had melted it as this footwashing time unfolded.

Jesus said, Do you know what I have done to you?

Out of his deep love for people, Jesus embodies hospitality. He honors others above himself. He models out for his followers how they are to minister in the world. But there are still more layers.

In these moments, Jesus gives a picture, a hint, a glimpse of something deeper, far deeper. A greater cleansing than the washing of feet is required. Yes, the feet will need to be washed periodically, because they insist on walking off into all the wrong places in life. But the whole body must be made clean first. And that is what he appears to tell Peter, who just doesn’t get much of what is going on here.

“Peter, you don’t need to be washed all over again (i.e., I’ve already done that)…just your feet are fine. Someone who is bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean.”

When Peter and the others began to follow Jesus, they received new life, and were washed clean inside and out. It is a picture of baptism, of the beginning of a new life in Christ. In fact, many people think Jesus is talking about baptism in this passage. Perhaps he is, but it is baptism as it represents coming to know Jesus. Once you have met Christ, received Him and the benefit of his forgiveness, enacted on the cross, sealed in the resurrection…you are truly clean. Yes, we continue to sin and muck things up and need forgiveness, but we have entered into new life, “en Christo,” in Christ.

Jesus knows he will die soon. The cross is just hours away, Jesus at least can see it there just off in the distance. Jesus provides for his followers this water of salvation…even knowing they don’t fully understand. “No!,” Peter shouts, “I’m not worthy!” “Yes!,” Jesus shouts back, “you don’t understand it all now…but later you will.”

Do you know what I have done to you? Jesus said.

Just one more layer, one more thing that I think is very important. Who was there with Jesus that night? Who was there? The scripture simply says “the disciples.” So, Simon Peter (who fails Jesus) and his brother Andrew. James & John the sons of Zebedee. Philip and Bartholomew. Thomas and Matthew the tax collector. James the son of Alphaeus, Thaddaeus, Simon the Zealot (that’s eleven)…and Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.

Judas the traitor. The one who visited with Satan, the one who counted not to eternity but only to thirty pieces of silver. Judas was there. Which means, as far as we know…that Jesus washed the feet of Judas. Welcomed him, honored him, showed himself to him, modeled God’s heart for him. If Jesus washed Judas’ feet, it means he not only in a sense died at the hand of Judas…but he died on his behalf.

Jesus knew what Judas was about. Judas was Jesus’ enemy, and Jesus washed his feet. And after washing his feet, they sat down at table. Jesus broke off piece of bread, dipped it in the dinner dish, and handed it to Judas. In the Middle East, this was a host’s way of honoring, of paying deep respect to an honored guest.

But this is Jesus’ enemy! And Jesus washed his feet and fed him. The same Jesus who tells us to love our enemies loves his own enemy in a way that is frankly naïve and unreasonable. But then John told us earlier, “Jesus loved them to the end.”

I wonder what it would look like in our lives today if we were to shower such honor on our enemies. We do have them, you know. Don’t kid yourself. And I wonder what would happen if we as a nation spent less time worrying about the equilibrium of world power or what the state of our reputation was, and honored even those lined up against us.

We’ve been looking at Jesus’ hands. This morning they are dripping with water as he comes and washes our feet as well, and lovingly dries them off on a towel that is slung loosely around his waist. And while Lady Macbeth continues to wash her hands in futility, and Pilate keeps rinsing over his bowl…you and I end up clean.

Do you know what I have done to you? Let us pray.