Kneeling on Boston Common it's this foot, naked, resting in my lap with clean towel, socks, warm water waiting, that tells me this is what happens after a cold winter of deep snow when you're homeless in dirty socks and cracked shoes that don't fit: this foot, bloody, swollen, toes deformed, I wash gently, first one, then the other, and never have I felt so close to Jesus, his feet, bare, pierced, bloodied, nailed to the wooden cross.
Tonight is the one service of the year in which many churches practice
footwashing. Others don’t do it at all, despite the fact that after
washing Peter's feet Jesus says, "You also ought to wash one another's feet."