Before diving deeply into the heart of tonight’s homily, I want to ensure that we all share an understanding of an important concept. A symbol is something that points to something else of much deeper or more abstract meaning than the initial symbol itself could contain. A stop sign, for example, is a symbol for the instruction to stop; the sign itself cannot make us stop, but our shared knowledge of what it stands for, makes us stop. The Sacraments are symbols—not simply symbols, but symbols nonetheless. Baptism points us to a much deeper understanding of eternal life than simply being washed in water could do alone. The Eucharist points us to Christ’s salvific actions, on the Cross, to His Resurrection, and even more. Baptism and Eucharist are much more than symbols, of course; beyond pointing to it, Baptism is the entry into eternal life in the here and now; Eucharist points to Christ’s salvific actions because it is truly the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Christ. But the symbolic action of the sacraments is crucial to understand because it allows us to enter more deeply into the mystery—that is to say, to enter more deeply into that which is beyond the human experience: the divine experience. The eternal life offered in baptism is a good thing, indeed a very good thing, but by understanding the symbolic value of the sacrament, we are invited to enter more deeply into the mystery, to ponder what it means that are sins are forgiven and to embrace salvation it offers in the here and now—to be changed by God not just in eternal life but in our present life. Every time we receive the Eucharist, we receive the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Christ, even if we don’t understand what it is or what it points to, but when we fully participate in the great mystery by understanding what the symbol points to, we even more fully embrace the Grace that God gives us, allowing a more profound change in us through God’s action in the world. I preface tonight’s homily be ensuring an understanding of symbols because tonight’s Mass has a symbol that is only seen once a year, and sometimes, as has been the case in the last two years, and I gather even longer in this Parish community, even more rarely. The Washing of the Feet is a unique symbol in tonight’s Mass. The Gospel assures us that this important symbol is not an arbitrary decision, but an imitation of the last moments of the life of Jesus. Describing this important event in the last hour of Jesus’ life, Pope Emeritus Benedict says that: “Jesus represents the whole of his saving ministry in one symbolic act. He divests himself of his divine splendour; he, as it were, kneels down before us; he washes and dries our soiled feet, in order to make us fit to sit at the table for God’s wedding feast. …[T]he meaning is that Jesus’ love ‘to the end’ is what cleans us, washes us. The gesture of washing feet expresses precisely this: it is the servant-love of Jesus that draws us out of our pride and makes us fit for God, makes us ‘clean.’” There is such profound theological meaning in the Washing of the Feet. It reveals even more clearly how the ministry of Jesus is about the emptying of Himself, the willingness to be the servant instead of the served, and it points to how Christ’s salvific act will wash us of our sins and make us prepared to share in His great heavenly wedding feast. Long before I knew about this great theological meaning, and indeed, long before I knew much about Christianity at all, I shared with a friend about my desire to know more about the Christian faith. Growing up, her Christian faith was important to her, and one particular moment stood out. As I remember her telling me, near the end of a retreat opportunity, the small group of young Christians she spent much of her time with were gathered together and told that they were going to have an opportunity to wash one another’s feet. There was much trepidation in this small group about what that would mean. The Washing of Feet is such a unique thing that there isn’t really any contemporary equivalent, but in Jesus’ day, it really was just a sign of power; the master would have his dirty feet washed by his slave who was understood by all to be beneath the master. In her group, my friend was uncomfortable as they were all instructed to take off their shoes and socks, and sitting around nervously with her peers, she was very unsure what to do next. The leaders in the group took the initiative, though, and one leader in particular made a bee-line to her, a leader whom she thought never really liked her and with whom there had even been some conflict. The leader poured warm water over her feet and smiled awkwardly at her as he wiped the water away, and my friend described how in that moment, all the awkwardness washed away, all the tension between the two of them washed way, and she knew that she was loved. In this great act of service, in ...
