Clean

The Last Supper and an Unexpected Act

There's this beautiful story in the Gospel of John. It's just before Jesus is arrested and goes to the cross. He and his closest followers are eating the Passover — this great meal where the Jewish people recall the God who saved them in Egypt and will one day save them again. A meal they had eaten many times. But this time it's different.

In the middle of it, Jesus takes the bread and wine and says, "This is my body and my blood given for you." We know that Jesus was speaking about the cross, but they didn't know — it hadn't happened yet. This was so unusual, but they seemed to just carry on, not sure what to make of it. And they keep eating.

But then Jesus gets up, gets a bowl of water, takes off his outer garment, and begins to wash the disciples' feet. And everything stops. Because this is wild, outrageous, and profoundly uncomfortable.

For one thing, this was the role of a slave — and more than that, the very lowest rung of slave. For another, it was distasteful: their sandaled feet bore every interaction with the dirt and filth of agrarian life in that hot, sticky climate. And what's more, he was their teacher, their leader, their rabbi — respected, revered, dignified.

Peter's Resistance

So Peter, always the one to speak up, reacts. He just can't accept it:

"No, Lord, you shall never wash my feet."

And Jesus' response is fascinating:

"Unless I wash you, you have no part in me."

What does that mean?

Washing as a Picture of Forgiveness

Washing and forgiveness are linked ideas in the biblical framework. In the great confession of Psalm 51, David writes about forgiveness saying, "Wash me and I will be whiter than snow." Or in the book of Acts, after Paul's Damascus Road moment, Ananias bravely goes to find him saying, "Get up, be baptized and wash your sins away."

In the Bible, to be forgiven is to be washed. It's to be made clean. Sin — our wrong — is like dirt, like a great stain, marking and blemishing and disfiguring something beautiful.

We often hear that kind of language ourselves. It's like the old fabled story of a child caught swearing having to wash their mouth out with soap and water. The imagery is powerful: sin is like a stain, like dirt, like heart vandalism. But to be forgiven is like having that stain, that dirt, that blemish removed. To be forgiven is like being washed clean.

More Than a Lesson in Humility

Jesus is washing their feet. He is showing them servant leadership. He is turning their concepts of power upside down. He is giving them a pattern to follow. But this is about more than that.

Yes, this is about the radical inversion of social structures and leadership norms, a transcultural critique of the abuse of power and what it means to be fully human — but this is about more than that too. It points beyond itself, anticipating and drawing on an even greater moment, a moment Jesus knew was coming.

Through an act of even greater service, Jesus wouldn't just lower himself to his knees to wash dirt from their feet, but would lower himself to the grave to wash sin from their hearts.

And Peter says, "You will never wash me." And Jesus turns to him and says, "I must." He's talking about far more than simply what he is doing to Peter's feet.

We Are All Peter

In one sense, we are all Peter. Sometimes we try to cover our wrongs, cover the stain, try to hide it, try to ignore it and pretend it's not there. Sometimes we try to call it something else — even, at times, artwork — and pretend it's actually fine. We try a million different things, detergents of our own selection, but to no avail.

And then Jesus comes and he says:

"Let me wash you. Nothing else will do it. I've paid the highest price for the only kind of soap that will work. This is the reason I came."

And he goes to the cross and he pays with his life, with his body and his blood, and he says:

"Look, I've done it. You can be wholly, completely, utterly forgiven. Every dirt, every stain, every sin can be washed away. You can be clean, holy, completely, spotlessly clean, as white as snow. All you need to do, Peter, is let me wash you."

Yes, we are all Peter. Have we not with him also said, "No, Lord, you will never wash my feet. I can't accept it. I don't deserve it, can't believe it. I'm just not worth it. No, Lord, no. You don't know what I've done. You don't know the stain. I don't think anything can remove it. No, Lord, I just can't accept it." We're all Peter.

Blessed Are Those Who Are Washed

And yet Jesus stoops with a bowl of water and a flannel, with a cross and nail-pierced hands, with an empty tomb and folded grave clothes, and he says, "If I wash you, you will be clean."

The psalmist writes, "Blessed are those whose sin is forgiven." Blessed means happy.

• Happy are those whose sin is forgiven, those who know they have been washed clean and made as white as snow.
• Happy are those who know that their wrongs have been removed as far as the east is from the west.
• Happy are those who have seen their sin-vandalized hearts made new.
• Happy are those who can sing with the saints, "What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus."
• Happy are those who, when reminded and accused, can say, "When Satan tempts me to despair and tells me of the guilt within, upward I look and see him there who made an end to all my sin."

Yes, happy are those who, like Peter, finally respond to Jesus' invitation with, "Then wash me, Lord."

Yes — we are all Peter.