Greetings friends.
This is Mark Ludman,
Also known as Brother Frederick James,
Your friendly neighbourhood monk in docks.
Welcome to day 36 of our Lenten journey in the wilderness,
Still held as we walk towards Easter through the Gospel of John.
As we begin today,
I once again invite you to find a comfortable position,
To allow your body to settle and your breathing to become slow and natural,
Nothing forced,
Nothing controlled,
Just breathing in and out,
Letting the noise of the day soften for a moment.
And gently bring in your awareness to this moment from John's Gospel,
Chapter 13.
It's the night before Jesus will suffer.
Tension in the air and everyone senses something's changing.
In the middle of that moment,
Jesus does something unexpected.
He kneels down,
Takes a basin of water and a towel,
And then one by one begins washing the feet of his friends.
Dust-covered feet,
Travel-worn feet.
And by the way,
This is the job of a servant in the household,
And usually the lowliest and lowest of the servants in a household,
If there's more than one.
This is definitely not work that a teacher would find themself doing.
And the Gospel tells us that Jesus loved his own and he loved them to the end.
Love.
Love here that's not being expressed as power,
But through tenderness,
Through closeness.
But then when Jesus comes to Peter,
Peter resists.
He says,
You will never wash my feet.
Now,
Peter loves Jesus,
But he's uncomfortable receiving this kind of love.
It feels,
I don't know,
Too vulnerable,
Too intimate,
Perhaps even too humbling.
And maybe we recognize something of ourselves in Peter.
Many of us find it much easier to serve and not as easy to receive.
We help others,
Support others,
Care for others,
But allowing ourselves to be cared for,
Well,
That's often quite harder.
And I wonder if that's because receiving love can feel exposing.
It asks us to admit something that we often try and hide,
Because in receiving love,
We're admitting that we have needs,
That we can't do everything by ourselves,
That we're not meant to walk alone.
But this moment reveals something essential about the spiritual life,
That love must be received before it can be truly offered.
Otherwise,
Our service just simply and slowly becomes performance.
We might help,
But that help comes from a place of proving ourselves.
We might give,
But deep down we give,
Hoping to be found worthy.
Yet Jesus shows another way.
He kneels before Peter,
Before all of them,
Before us.
And in doing so,
Jesus doesn't ask us to prove anything,
But simply offers love.
And the invitation is very simple.
Let yourself be served.
Let yourself be cared for.
Let yourself be loved.
Now,
In the wilderness seasons of life,
We often discover how deeply we need one another.
In independence,
There often isn't much strength to be found.
But as humans,
We're created to find strength in belonging,
In allowing love to flow in both directions,
Giving and receiving.
So for a moment now,
Imagine yourself in that room.
The quiet flicker of lamplight,
The sound of water in the basin,
Jesus kneeling in front of you.
No judgment,
No disappointment,
Just steady,
Gentle attention.
And he takes your tired feet into his hands and slowly pours water over them.
Washing away the dust of the road,
The fatigue,
The burdens you've carried.
He doesn't hurry.
There's no rush here,
Just care,
Just presence.
Notice what happens inside you as you imagine this.
Is there gratitude?
Discomfort?
Resistance?
All of the above?
And hear the quiet invitation beneath this moment.
That you don't have to earn love,
You only have to allow it.
So in this moment,
Just gently ask yourself,
Where do I resist receiving care?
What makes vulnerability uncomfortable for me?
Where do I still believe that I have to earn love rather than receive it?
Simply sit here for a moment,
Allowing yourself to be held in the quiet presence of Christ.
Allowing yourself to be loved exactly as you are.
And as we prepare to bring today's session to a close,
Just remember this gentle truth when we come to Maundy Thursday next week.
That the path of love begins here,
Without striving,
Without proving,
But in allowing ourselves to be washed and held.
Take one last slow,
Deep breath in and out.
And when you're ready,
Go into the day and carry this quiet knowing with you that you are already loved and you are not meant to walk alone.
And may grace,
Peace and love go with you today and every day as you walk.
Amen.
Until tomorrow,
Friends,
May God's peace be with you.
