Why is Peter so reluctant to have his feet washed? Why does he resist? The other disciples waited, maybe a little awkwardly, while their friend and teacher, Jesus, stripped off his outer cloak and knelt on the floor. Jesus took their feet gently into his hands, and after a loving look, he washed them, drying them with the towel at his waist. Then he gets to Peter.
So what is so different with Peter? Why is he the one who flatly declares, “You will never wash my feet”? When Jesus convinces him that “Unless I wash you, you will have no inheritance with me,” Peter agrees wanting to include his head and his hands in the washing.
But why was he so unwilling to have his feet washed at first? Why are we? What makes any of us drag our feet when it comes to accepting the responsibility of being a follower of Jesus?
Jesus is clear in his message: If I have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another’s feet.
He tells us he is giving us an example of service to others. “As I have done for you, you should also do.”
So why the reluctance to be a part of this? Why do we not want to follow Jesus in that? Maybe we are afraid; maybe just tired. It may be just a matter of trusting in God. For both Peter and us: maybe we don’t believe we are worthy.
If we accept the intimacy that comes with Jesus washing our feet, how can we possibly carry out this kind of extraordinary service? Can we do it with the same love that Jesus did/does?
The answer is no. Of course, we are not worthy. Neither was Peter. Even as Jesus washed Peter’s feet, he knew Peter would deny him, soon. As he washed Judas’ feet, he knew he was loving and caring for his ultimate betrayer.
So we aren’t worthy. Yet he washes our feet and puts our shoes back on sending us out into the world. We are sent beyond this table, this dinner, to carry out his mission of love. It’s the same mission we are sent on each week when we leave Mass: to carry our faith out into the world beyond the food we received at the table of the Eucharist. Are we worthy?
In the words of Jesuit Philosopher, John Kavanaugh, S.J.,
“There is no one of us who does not need – desperately – God’s loving forgiveness.
And there is no one among us so sinful who is not worth – endlessly – such a lavish gift.”
Loving God, open my heart to the love you offer me. Let me get beyond my fears of inadequacy so I can trust that you are there with me in each step I take in service of others. Turn my fears into joy and my foot dragging into dancing.
Give me the wisdom to discern where you are calling me to serve, the strength to carry on when my courage grows faint and the heart to hear you call me to your work in this world.
Maureen McCann Waldron
The most important part of my life is my family – Jim my husband of 47 years and our two children. Our daughter Katy, a banker here in Omaha, and her husband John, have three wonderful children: Charlotte, Daniel and Elizabeth Grace. Our son Jack and his wife, Ellie, have added to our joy with their sons, Peter and Joseph.
I think family life is an incredible way to find God, even in (or maybe I should say, especially in) the most frustrating or mundane moments.
I am a native of the East Coast after graduating in 1971 from Archbishop John Carroll High School in suburban Philadelphia. I graduated from Creighton University in 1975 with a degree in Journalism and spent most of the next 20 years in corporate public relations in Omaha. I returned to Creighton in the 1990s and completed a master’s degree in Christian Spirituality in 1998.
As our children were growing up, my favorite times were always family dinners at home when the four of us would talk about our days. But now that our kids are gone from home, my husband and I have rediscovered how nice it is to have a quiet dinner together. I also have a special place in my heart for family vacations when the kids were little and four of us were away from home together. It’s a joy to be with my growing family.
Writing a Daily Reflection is always a graced moment, because only with God’s help could I ever write one. I know my own life is hectic, disjointed and imperfect and I know most of us have lives like that. I usually write from that point of view and I always seem to find some sentence, some word in the readings that speaks right to me, in all of my imperfection. I hope that whatever I write is in some way supportive of others.
It’s an incredibly humbling experience to hear from someone who was touched by something I wrote. Whether the note is from someone across campus or across the world, it makes me realize how connected we are all in our longing to grow closer to God.
