When you arrived in Jerusalem
and the crowds gathered and cheered,
you gathered your followers in an upper room.
Were they expecting to hear a plan of attack
for the takeover of Jerusalem?
Were they expecting your master plan
for unveiling your power in the temple?
A holy reckoning where the wicked fall,
and the lowly are lifted up?
Whatever their expectations,
it didn’t have anything to do with dirty feet.
Their own, held in your hands.
You were their champion, their leader,
on your knees, doing the work of a servant.
Speaking to them of love,
and so gently telling them that you must go away.
They went, clean footed, to the garden
expecting to pray, but they mostly slept instead.
You vigilled alone.
They woke to the nightmare of swords and clubs
and you handed over, taken away in chains.
God of washbasins and towels,
God of dirty feet made clean by loving hands,
God of our shocked and disbelieving faces,
be with us this day, and in the days to come. Amen.
I am a Mennonite pastor currently teaching theology at Conrad Grebel University College in Waterloo, Ontario. I’ve served congregations in Ontario and most recently, Alberta.