Washing dirty feet
The feet and legs of the homeless men we serve at the Bowery Mission in New York are a testimony to the pain they endure daily. Many of their legs are swollen because, like Jesus, they have nowhere to lay their head to rest. They wander the streets and subways, ride on free casino buses, and sit in libraries and other public spaces.
Many men sleep upright a couple hours until they are asked to move on. They rarely sleep flat with their legs elevated, which would promote healthy blood circulation. Sometimes their legs are hardened so badly that they feel like stone or wood rather than flesh. Occasionally, we have to send these men to the hospital, where they are injected with blood thinners to reduce the swelling. One friend in our community, who went by the nickname Wheelchair Charlie, eventually had both legs amputated. Later, he died of complications related to blood clots.
Today I will lead the foot-washing service at the mission’s noon chapel. In recent years I’ve been joined in this by Uros Markovic, who plays gospel jazz every Friday night at the mission. This year my colleague Delon Ali, an ordained minister who was once homeless himself for several years, will bend low with me to wash the feet of our friends.
