Sometimes the Spirit surprises. Here is what “came to me” as I entered the story of footwashing with Mary Magdalene today:
It was not Peter; it was me.
“Surely you are not going to wash my feet?“
(Here, Yeshua? In front of these men and their jealousy? Their libido?)
“I am in you and you in me. Would you refuse this sign? This is my seal to you, even as you sealed me in tears and nard. This is my feeding, my pledge. I will serve you always, even as you have served and loved me. Then all will see how all will love — male/female, slave/free, Jew/Gentile — all will serve. All will love. All will bow down, one to the other. Especially at the feet of the least. And there I will be, as you wash and feed one another when it seems I am gone. Even as along the way the women have washed and fed this lot, Mary…”
There they are. The tears of shared gaze.
“Wash all of me, then, Rabbi.” (Did I say that aloud?)
“No… For now, hold, contain, memorize this washing. Bury it in your heart, that same healed and devoted heart that keeps your life awash, flowing with living water. Out of your belly, Out of your heart. Out of your deepest desire. Love flows. The love of service — washing any, washing me — is the love of abundance. It pours out of its own accord. Beyond what you can ask or imagine.”
“Here, my Lord. My feet. My hands. My heart.”by Nina B Lanctot 04-01-21