It was my wedding day, a beautiful Saturday in May. My future husband and I prayed in the church basement with our wedding party and liturgical ministers before taking our places in the doorway to the sanctuary to greet all of our guests and welcome them to the celebration. Then, after our vows, my husband and I washed each others feet while all those gathered guests, hundreds of our family and friends, sang “The Servant Song.” “Will you let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you; pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant too,” rang across the church. It was a high feast day in our world, and although the Easter season was over, it was a Holy Saturday kind of day. * * * * * *
Fast forward nearly 13 years and we found ourselves in the hospital giving birth for the fifth time. It was a less beautiful day, this time in March. And although there was lots of praying, this time there were no family or friends with us, only more doctors and nurses than we could count moving in and out of our room. Finally, after the scary labor and delivery that but for the grace of God and the skilled medical team would have been life-threatening for both me and our son, I found myself unable to hold my son for long periods of time, unable to move without being sick, unable to get out of bed on my own, unable to do much of anything but cry. And in those dark days, my husband once again bent down and washed my feet. This time as I sat on the chair in the make-shift shower in our hospital room, unable to clean myself.
Two very different settings, separated by over a decade of other less obvious “foot washing” moments between us, but the same vow of service and love. And the same prayer for grace as I had to accept the unwanted reality of being served so completely in those days of recovery and grieving. It was just a regular Monday in the rest of the world, but there was a sacredness, and for me it was a Holy Thursday kind of day.
Holy Thursday has long-since been my favorite day of the year, my favorite liturgy and favorite celebration. But I learned so much about Holy Thursday on that Monday this year, and so much more about the darker side of this day that I have previously seen primarily as a celebration. I learned more about the reality of watching and waiting - watching in loneliness as my husband and nurses hold my son, and waiting through the suffering to be well enough to fulfill my role of his mother. The reality of feasting and fearing - feasting on the new life we were blessed with despite everything we’d gone through, and fearing still the what could have been and what was yet to come. The reality of how closely Holy Thursday hovers near Good Friday - the intertwined connection between celebration and suffering at all times. The reality of self-emptying - of giving of oneself physically, emotionally and spiritually in order for another to live more fully. The reality of the sacramentality ushered in at that First Eucharist - grace, sacrifice, remembrance, dependence on a Love and Offering greater than ourselves, greater than we can fathom. And in those brief moments when my husband, unbeknownst to him, bent down with cloth and water to offer a visible sign of this reality, I knew anew the beauty and importance of Holy Thursday in all its glory and its challenge!
* * * * * *
Fast forward two and a half weeks more and, as we watched our parish’s livestreamed Holy Thursday liturgy, not yet ready to venture out into the “Covid world” with our susceptible newborn, we got basin and towel and once more washed each other’s feet. This time along with our children, including the teeny-tiny feet of our latest edition. And as I recalled the personal foot washing I’d shared just a few weeks prior, snd that of over a decade ago that started it all for our family, I prayed for the little man attached to those little feet. May he grow knowing the love his parents have for him, the love his father has bestowed on his mother, and the love that our Lord gives to and asks of each of us every day. When he inevitably faces his own Agony in the Garden, may he too have a visual sign of love and offering available to him. May he find, and be, a foot-washer in his life. May he be blessed with Holy Thursday kinds of days, and Holy Saturday high feasts as well.
And I prayed for us all - in this continuing tumultuous world - in the words that echoed throughout the church 13 years ago: “Will you let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you; pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant too.”
A blessed Holy Thursday one and all!
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