Day 44: Holy Thursday

This evening's liturgy at St. John's at Creighton was beautiful. From the moment the entire congregation joined in the heartfelt singing of "Holy God We Praise Thy Name" and the scent of incense began to permeate the air until the final, solemn moments when the altar was stripped, I felt not only a close attachment to everyone gathered in faith in that sacred space, but also a communion with Christians throughout the world who join in prayer and remembrance of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ in these Holy Days of the Triduum. I also felt intense hunger since Mass began at 7:30 and lasted an hour and forty-five minutes, making it fifteen hours between meals today. 

One of the unique aspects of the Holy Thursday liturgy is the "washing of the feet," a symbolic recollection of the thirteenth chapter of John's Gospel and Jesus' action of humbling himself to cleanse the feet of his friends. I have always found this to be a powerful story and its subsequent inclusion in the Holy Thursday Mass is poignant and moving. Father Roc O'Connor was the presider this evening and he offered an inspiring and thought-provoking homily. As he plumbed the relationship between Jesus and Peter in this Gospel story, he paid special note to Peter's response to Jesus' desire to wash his feet. He suggested that Peter's refusal was out of a fear of being challenged to be someone and do something that he did not want. I had often considered Peter's noncompliance as the result of the dynamics of a master/servant relationship (which it, in part, may have been), but I had never thought of it as fear. 

This notion hit home with me and my experience throughout this Lent. I am as aware as ever of the choices I make in life that are based in the fear of needing to change. The fear of living more simply and what that means I will need to let go of. The fear of being more available to people and how that will cut into "me time" and what I deem important. The fear of people who are different than me and how seeing others as images of Christ necessarily shakes my world up a bit. The fear of not having all the answers and taking the risk to being vulnerable, open and honest with others. In some ways I have made small strides in some of these areas this Lent. In other ways I am only begin to realize these fears exist.

I am deeply moved by the way that St. John's includes the washing of feet within the liturgy. Many parishes choose twelve people ahead of time to represent the apostles in a sort of reenactment. But at St. John's everyone is invited to get up and go to one of several stations throughout the church and to have her or his feet washed and, in turn, wash the feet of another. I intended to participate in this before we even went to Mass. What I had not anticipated was that Aidan would also want to participate. Here is a small way that I have been changed this Lent . . . when he leaned over and said that he'd like to have his feet washed, instead of telling him, "No, it's only for adults," I told him, "Sure." I was proud that he wanted to be a part of things and I do not ever want to discourage anything that can serve as a positive faith experience and reminder for him down the road. 

Washing my seven year old son's feet was something I cannot find the words for right now. It struck me that being a parent is, in many ways, a life of service. It was my way of telling him, "there is nothing I won't do for you." I have no illusions that he understood it that way, but it became a sort of recommitment on my behalf to what it means for me to be a father and husband.

In retrospect, I have one regret . . . because he was a little nervous, I let Aidan bow out of having to wash my feet. Perhaps it was for the best or perhaps, like Peter, I was afraid and not yet ready to be open to the challenges that such an action would present. In this simple choice is all the evidence I need to show me how far I have yet to grow.