iacobusm Lent and Easter, The Triduum

Something Strange is Happening – Holy Saturday

 Something Strange 

Something strange is happening—there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep.

These are the opening sentences in the non-scriptural reading in today’s Office of Readings. The author, it seems, is unknown.  The liturgy simply tells us that it is “an ancient homily on Holy Saturday.”  The description rings true. Holy Saturday is not quite like any other day in the liturgical calendar.  We experience a pause after the intense liturgical activity of Holy Thursday and Good Friday.  There is a sense of expectancy, and, as the author of the reading above put it, “a great silence and stillness.”

     So it seems, to us.  If we read on, we see that The King may appear, to us, to be “asleep” but that is not really the case:

He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, he has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, he who is both God and the son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won him the victory.

 Jesus Doesn’t Rest 

The period between Death and Resurrection is one of stillness and waiting in our world, but Jesus doesn’t rest.  And why would Christ, fresh from crucifixion and death, seek out Adam and Eve? It does seem like something strange, doesn’t it? Our homilist shows him telling out first parents:

I am your God, who for your sake have become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by my own authority command all who are held in bondage to come forth, all who are in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. Rise up, work of my hands, you who were created in my image.

Christ addresses these words here to Adam and Eve, but He also addresses them to us, their descendants. God did not create our first parents in order to hold them “prisoner in hell.”  Nor did he create any of us for that purpose. Out of his love for all of us he is calling us away from Death: Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated.

“The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won him the victory.“

The Harrowing of Hell or Christ in Limbo, by Albrecht Durer, 1510

 In Search of the Lost Sheep 

The picture our homilist paints here of Christ is a reflection of what Jesus says of himself in the Gospels.  Consider this passage from the Gospel of Matthew:

If a man has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go in search of the one that went astray?  And if he finds it, truly, I say to you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray. (Matthew 18: 12-13)

God is Seeking Us

This is one of numerous passages that show us how intent Our Lord is on gathering us to himself. We often speak of ourselves as “seeking God,” but that’s not really the way it works, we’re deceiving ourselves. The Benedictine Mark Barrett in his book Crossing: Reclaiming the Landscape of Our Lives says:

Biblical images of God – shepherd, farmer, lover – always make God the one who is active.  He takes the initiative . . . God is the seeker, and we are the object of the search.  This is the strangest lesson of all.

Yes, something strange is happening.  While our world seems silent and still, under the surface Our Lord is working out of our view to bring back all his lost sheep. We might want to take some time during the quiet of Holy Saturday to meditate on Christ’s saving action, and prepare ourselves to return to him when the Resurrected Lord comes back for us on Easter Sunday.

Feature image top of page: Christ in Limbo, by Fra Angelico, c. 1450

The Triduum & Easter 2022:

Christ Came to Serve – Holy Thursday
Is it I, Lord? – Good Friday
Have a Blessed Easter! (Jesus Christ is Risen Today)
iacobusm Lent and Easter, The Triduum

Is it I, Lord? – Good Friday

Is it I, Lord?

It seems all too easy for us sometimes to see the Apostles, in their bumbling humanity, as almost comic figures.  They certainly don’t appear too dignified, for instance, when they argue over which one of them is greatest (Luke 22:24, Mark 9:33, etc.); they look almost like clamoring children, who are clearly missing the point of their Master’s teaching.  We see another example in last evening’s Holy Thursday reading from John’s Gospel (John 13:6-10), where Peter just can’t understand what Jesus means when he washes the Apostles’ feet.

Matthew’s Gospel shows us a further instance of Apostolic confusion in its account of the Last Supper.  After the Apostles have assembled for the meal with Jesus, the Lord says a remarkable thing: “Truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.” (Matthew 26:21)  Were it not so serious a moment, we might be tempted to laugh a little at the Apostles all frantically asking “Is it I, Master?” (Matthew 26:24).  On the one hand, you would think that they knew their own hearts, on the other, well . . . maybe they’re on to something.

We All Betray Him

    As it happens, not all of them doubt.  Peter confidently asserts, “Though they all fall away because of you, I will never fall away.” (Matthew 26:33)  He’s in for a rude awakening:  Jesus gently corrects the man he named “the Rock”, saying “Truly, I say to you, this very night, before the cock crows, you will deny me three times” (Matthew 26:34). And of course, Peter does just that. The other Apostles, as it turns out, had a better understanding of their own weakness.

     Yes, it tempting to put a comic spin on the Apostles’ reactions, but that would be a mistake, and not simply because they are holy people to whom we owe respect.  When Jesus says to them, “You will all fall away” (Matthew 26:31), he’s not speaking only to his Apostles, but to all of us who have been his disciples in the millennia since, as well as all those in the years  to come.  They all betrayed him; we all will betray him; I betray him (is it I, Lord?).  Constantly.  That’s why we need the Sacrament of Confession.

“Truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.” (Matthew 26:21)

“The Last Supper” by the Master of Portillo

It is I, Lord

     That’s also why we venerate the Cross and meditate on Christ’s suffering on Good Friday: because on the Cross Jesus died for us, because of our betrayals, because we fall away . . . because it is I, Lord; I fall away, not just three times, but over and over again.

O Jesus, Who by reason of Thy burning love for us

hast willed to be crucified

and to shed Thy Most Precious Blood

for the redemption and salvation of our souls,

look down upon us here gathered together

in remembrance of Thy most sorrowful Passion and Death,

fully trusting in Thy mercy;

cleanse us from sin by Thy grace,

sanctify our toil,

give unto us and unto all those who are dear to us our

daily bread,

sweeten our sufferings,

bless our families,

and to the nations so sorely afflicted,

grant Thy peace,

which is the only true peace,

so that by obeying Thy commandments

we may come at last to the glory of heaven. Amen.

Featured image top of page: Christ Carrying the Cross, by Titian, 1575

The Triduum & Easter 2022: 

Christ Came to Serve – Holy Thursday
Something Strange is Happening – Holy Saturday
Have a Blessed Easter! (Jesus Christ is Risen Today)
iacobusm Lent and Easter, The Triduum

Christ Came to Serve – Holy Thursday

Christ Came to Serve – The Mass of the Lord’s Supper

Christ Washing the Feet of the Disciples, by Giotto. c.1305

“It is enough.”

He said to them, “But now, let him who has a purse take it, and likewise a bag. And let him who has no sword sell his mantle and buy one.  For I tell you that this scripture must be fulfilled in me, ‘And he was reckoned with transgressors’; for what is written about me has its fulfilment.” And they said, “Look, Lord, here are two swords.” And he said to them, “It is enough.” (Luke 22:36-38)

    I often find it easy to identify with Peter and the other Apostles when they are slow to catch on to what their Master is saying.  Take the passage above, for example, from Luke’s account of the Last Supper. There’s an almost comical quality to their too literal understanding of Christ’s sword imagery.  I picture Jesus shaking his head, with just a hint of a wry smile, as he says “It is enough.”

  And yet this is a very serious moment. It represents the Lord’s last instructions to his closest associates before he goes out to meet a horrifying death.  And later that same evening, Peter uses one of those two swords. Int the Garden of Gethsemane, he mutilates a man in the gang that has come to arrest Jesus.  Nobody smiles at that.

“But now, let him who has a purse take it, and likewise a bag. And let him who has no sword sell his mantle and buy one.” (Luke 22:36)  

St. Peter Cuts Off Slave’s Ear, by Duccio di Buoninsegna, c. 1300

 

“Lord, do you wash my feet?”

     In the passage below from John’s Gospel, one of the readings at this evening’s Mass of the Lord’s Supper, we see something very similar:

Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, rose from supper, laid aside his garments, and girded himself with a towel. Then he poured water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples’ feet, and to wipe them with the towel with which he was girded.

He came to Simon Peter; and Peter said to him, “Lord, do you wash my feet?” Jesus answered him, “What I am doing you do not know now, but afterward you will understand.” Peter said to him, “You shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered him, “If I do not wash you, you have no part in me.”

Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Jesus said to him, “He who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but he is clean all over; and you are clean, but not every one of you.” (John 13:3-10)

 

Pride and Humility

     When he takes on the servile task of washing the Apostles’ feet, Jesus doesn’t simply speak. He acts out his message, in the manner of an Old Testament prophet.  He is showing the Apostles through his example that the purpose of their office is to serve, and not to exalt themselves. As Christ came to serve, so must they.

    But look what happens next. Jesus notes that Peter does not understand what his Lord is doing. Peter, in turn, confirms it with a curious mixture of pride and humility. He is indignant that his Master should lower himself in this way! Jesus tells him, in effect, that this is the price of discipleship.  At this point Peter, thinking that now he gets it, goes to the opposite extreme: in that case, wash everything!  As in the passage from Luke, Christ seems, in effect, to shake his head patiently and move on.

 

The Power of the Holy Spirit

St. Peter Preaching in Jerusalem, by Charles Poërson, 1642

     There are many other examples like these in the Gospels. All too often, Peter and the other Apostles just don’t understand.  Then, when they think they finally do get it, well, no, they still don’t understand.  And yet, these are the men Jesus has chosen to carry on his mission.  

     This tells us something about what it is to be human. None of us can figure it all out on our own.  We need the Power of the Father, the Saving Grace of Christ, and the Guidance of the Holy Spirit. That’s why the Peter we see in the Acts of the Apostles is so much more consistent and confident.  He has experienced the Power of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost (see Acts chapter 2). The Peter we see after Pentecost is much more believable as the Rock upon whom Christ will build his Church (see Matthew 16:18).

Christ Came to Serve

      The washing of the feet also points to the much greater events that are about to unfold.  Christ’s death on the Cross was a servile and degrading form of execution.  Roman citizens, St. Paul for instance, underwent the more dignified penalty of beheading with a sword. Christ’s self-sacrifice was the ultimate act of Service, because it was all for us:

Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in the likeness of men.  And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross. (Philippians 2:5-8)

Who can blame Peter for finding that hard to accept?  But eventually he does accept that Christ came to serve, through God’s Grace.  I pray that I also, in the commemoration of Christ’s Passion and the glory of his Resurrection, find the grace to understand and to accept His service to me, and to follow his example in my own life.

 The Triduum & Easter 2022: 

https://spesindomino.org/2022/04/14/is-it-i-lord-good-friday-2/
https://spesindomino.org/2022/04/15/something-strange-is-happening-holy-saturday-2/
https://spesindomino.org/2022/04/17/have-a-blessed-easter-jesus-christ-is-risen-today/
iacobusm Lent and Easter, The Triduum

Which Crowd? Palm Sunday and Passion Sunday

Ecce Homo, by Antonio Ciseri, 1871

And he came to the disciples and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter, “So, could you not watch with me one hour? Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”     (Matthew 26:40-41)

 

The Inner Struggle

One could make a good case that many of the purported reforms of the liturgy after the Second Vatican Council were not a good idea. I admit, I did once compare the so-called Spirit of Vatican II to a rabid raccoon.   On the other hand, I’m not a rad-trad, either.  Some recent reforms are, in fact, improvements.  The restoration of the Easter Vigil to Holy Saturday evening after dark, for instance (it had become customary to celebrate it Saturday morning).  Granted, this reform dates from before Vatican II. Pope Pius XII instituted it a few years before the council, in 1955. It was a part, however, of the movement of liturgical reform that culminated in the Mass of Paul VI fifteen years later.

The Spirit of Vatican II?

We can see another positive (or at least more positive than negative) change in today’s liturgy.  Passion Sunday used to be the Sunday before Palm Sunday (as I discuss at further length here).  Now the two liturgical observances share the Sunday before Easter.

The downside of the change is that we have lost the clear demarcation Passion Sunday used to give us between the earlier part of Lent and Passiontide. We gain something, however, from seeing the joyful palm-waving crowd welcoming Jesus and the angry crowd demanding his death in the same liturgy.  We see a reflection in today’s mass of the struggle within each of us between the desire for salvation and the allure of sin.

 

Which Crowd?

Let’s start with those two crowds.  I used to wonder as to what extent both crowds were composed of the same people. If they were the same, what had changed their minds in so short a time? After my last post on the subject, a reader convinced me that the two crowds did largely consist of different members.  At the very least, the disciples of Jesus dominate the Palm Sunday crowd; the Sanhedrin and their supporters the mob demanding that Pilate crucify Him.

That’s the literal import of the two events.  Scripture works on multiple levels, however.  What is the liturgy showing us by putting the two crowds together?

Jesus’ Triumphal Entry Into Jerusalem, James Jacques Tissot, 1896

One key to the bigger picture is St. Peter, humble fisherman become fisher of men.  As chief Apostle he plays a prominent part in all the Gospel accounts of the events of Holy Week.  In this year’s reading, from the Gospel of Luke, we see Jesus telling him:

 

“Simon, Simon, behold Satan has demanded
to sift all of you like wheat,
but I have prayed that your own faith may not fail;
and once you have turned back,
you must strengthen your brothers.”

 

The Turning Back

The Lord is entrusting Peter with a critical mission, but there’s a warning here, too.  What does he mean by “once you have turned back”? Turned back from what?  Peter doesn’t seem to notice, because be immediately blurts out: “Lord, I am prepared to go to prison and to die with you.” If only it were that simple.  Peter must have been stunned by Jesus’ response:

 

The Denial of Peter, by Gerard van Honthorst, c. 1623

“I tell you, Peter, before the cock crows this day,
you will deny three times that you know me.”

 

And, of course, Peter does just as Jesus says.  He does turn back to strengthen his brethren in the end, but he has his ups and downs along the way. He genuinely wants to stand boldly in defense of his Lord, but fails at  critical moments.  He disavows any knowledge of Christ in response to the questions of a mere servant of the high priest.  He and his fellow Apostles can’t stay awake when Jesus most needs their company.  And of course, he is nowhere to be found when Christ is dying on the Cross.  Matthew and Mark preserve Jesus’ summation of the situation when he finds his biggest supporters asleep on the job: “the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”     (Matthew 26:41)

Our Challenge

We can also see a reflection of ourselves in the two starkly different crowds in today’s separate Gospel readings.  There’s a part of us that wants to welcome our Messiah with loud hosannas.  There’s a part that, like the religious leaders of the time, fears that embracing Christ will get us into trouble with the human powers-that-be out in the world.  There’s also a side of us that we see in both crowds. Both contain a large number of people who are not there from a sense of commitment to one side or the other. They are simply following the mob, they are Jesus’ proverbial man who builds his house on sand (see Matthew 7:26).

The liturgy shows us at the beginning of Holy Week what our challenge is going to be.  We all start out with the cheering crowds waving palms.  Will we stay with Jesus the whole time? Will we fail for a time, like St. Peter, but turn back to Christ?  Will the crowd shouting “Crucify Him!” sway us to their side?  Where will we stand in the end?

iacobusm Lent and Easter, The Triduum

Something Strange is Happening: Holy Saturday

Something strange is happening—there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep.

Those are the opening sentences in the non-scriptural reading in today’s Office of Readings, an “ancient homily on Holy Saturday.” It’s true that Holy Saturday is not quite like any other day in the liturgical calendar.  There is a pause after the intense liturgical activity of Holy Thursday and Good Friday.  There is a sense of expectancy, and, as the author of the reading above put it, “a great silence and stillness.”

     So it seems, to us.  If we read on, we see that the King may appear, to us, to be “asleep” but that is not really the case:

He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, he has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, he who is both God and the son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won him the victory.

The period between Death and Resurrection is one of stillness and waiting in our world, but Jesus doesn’t rest.  And why would Christ, fresh from crucifixion and death, seek out Adam and Eve? Our homilist shows him telling out first parents:

I am your God, who for your sake have become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by my own authority command all who are held in bondage to come forth, all who are in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. Rise up, work of my hands, you who were created in my image.

These words are addressed here to Adam and Eve, but they are also addressed to us, their descendants. God did not create our first parents “to be held a prisoner in hell.”  Nor did he create any of us for that purpose. Out of his love for all of us he is calling us away from Death:

Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated.

“O sleeper, awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell.“

“The Harrowing of Hell” by Fra Angelico, early 15th century

The picture our homilist paints here of Christ is a reflection of what Jesus says of himself in the Gospels.  Consider this passage from the Gospel of Matthew:

If a man has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go in search of the one that went astray?  And if he finds it, truly, I say to you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray. (Matthew 18: 12-13)

This is one of numerous passages that show us how intent Our Lord is on gathering us to himself. We often speak of ourselves as “seeking God,” but that’s not really the way it works, we’re deceiving ourselves. The Benedictine Mark Barrett in his book Crossing: Reclaiming the Landscape of Our Lives says:

Biblical images of God – shepherd, farmer, lover – always make God the one who is active.  He takes the initiative . . . God is the seeker, and we are the object of the search.  This is the strangest lesson of all.

Yes, something strange is happening.  While our world seems silent and still, under the surface Our Lord is working out of our view to bring back all his lost sheep. We might want to take some time during the quiet of Holy Saturday to meditate on Christ’s saving action, and prepare ourselves to return to him when the Resurrected Lord comes back for us on Easter Sunday.

(You can read trhe entire Ancient Homily HERE)

iacobusm Lent and Easter, The Triduum

Is it I, Lord? (Good Friday)

   It seems all too easy for us sometimes to see the Apostles, in their bumbling humanity, as almost comic figures.  They certainly don’t appear too dignified, for instance, when they argue over which one of them is greatest (Luke 22:24, Mark 9:33, etc.); they look almost like clamoring children, who are clearly missing the point of their Master’s teaching.  We see another example in last evening’s Holy Thursday reading from John’s Gospel (John 13:6-10), where Peter just can’t understand what Jesus means when he washes the Apostles’ feet. Matthew’s Gospel shows us a further instance of Apostolic confusion in its account of the Last Supper.  After the Apostles have assembled for the meal with Jesus, the Lord says a remarkable thing: “Truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.” (Matthew 26:21)  Were it not so serious a moment, we might be tempted to laugh a little at the Apostles all frantically asking “Is it I, Master?” (Matthew 26:24).  On the one hand, you would think that they know their own hearts, on the other, well . . . maybe they’re on to something.

“Truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.” (Matthew 26:21)

“The Last Supper” by the Master of Portillo

     As it happens, not all of them doubt.  Peter confidently asserts, “Though they all fall away because of you, I will never fall away.” (Matthew 26:33)  He’s in for a rude awakening:  Jesus gently corrects the man he named “the Rock”, saying “Truly, I say to you, this very night, before the cock crows, you will deny me three times” (Matthew 26:34). And of course, Peter does just that. The other Apostles, as it turns out, had a better understanding of their own weakness.

     Yes, it tempting to put a comic spin on the Apostles’ reactions, but that would be a mistake, and not simply because they are holy people to whom we owe respect.  When Jesus says to them, “You will all fall away” (Matthew 26:31), he’s not speaking only to his Apostles, but to all of us who have been his disciples in the millennia since, as well as all those in the years  to come.  They all betrayed him; we all will betray him; I betray him.  Constantly.  That’s why we need the Sacrament of Confession.

     That’s also why we venerate the Cross and meditate on Christ’s suffering on Good Friday: because on the Cross Jesus died for us, because of our betrayals, because we fall away . . . because it is I, Lord; I fall away, not just three times, but over and over again.

O Jesus, Who by reason of Thy burning love for us

hast willed to be crucified

and to shed Thy Most Precious Blood

for the redemption and salvation of our souls,

look down upon us here gathered together

in remembrance of Thy most sorrowful Passion and Death,

fully trusting in Thy mercy;

cleanse us from sin by Thy grace,

sanctify our toil,

give unto us and unto all those who are dear to us our

daily bread,

sweeten our sufferings,

bless our families,

and to the nations so sorely afflicted,

grant Thy peace,

which is the only true peace,

so that by obeying Thy commandments

we may come at last to the glory of heaven.

Amen.

(Feature image top of page: “Christ Carrying the Cross”, by Hieronymous Bosch c. 1490)

iacobusm Lent and Easter, The Triduum

Christ Came To Serve (Holy Thursday)

He said to them, “But now, let him who has a purse take it, and likewise a bag. And let him who has no sword sell his mantle and buy one.  For I tell you that this scripture must be fulfilled in me, ‘And he was reckoned with transgressors’; for what is written about me has its fulfilment.” And they said, “Look, Lord, here are two swords.” And he said to them, “It is enough.” (Luke 22:36-38)

“St. Peter Cuts Off Slave’s Ear” by Duccio (c. 1300)

     I often find it easy to identify with Peter and the other Apostles when they are slow to catch on to what their Master is saying.  In the passage above, from Luke’s account of the Last Supper, there’s an almost comical quality to their too literal understanding of Christ’s sword imagery.  I picture Jesus shaking his head, with just a hint of a wry smile, as he says “It is enough.”  And yet this is a very serious moment, the Lord’s last instructions to his closest associates before he goes out to meet a horrifying death.  And later that same evening, Peter uses one of those two swords to mutilate a man in the gang that has come to arrest Jesus; nobody smiles at that.

     In the passage below from John’s Gospel, one of the readings at this evening’s Mass of the Lord’s Supper, we see something very similar:

Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, rose from supper, laid aside his garments, and girded himself with a towel. Then he poured water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples’ feet, and to wipe them with the towel with which he was girded. He came to Simon Peter; and Peter said to him, “Lord, do you wash my feet?” Jesus answered him, “What I am doing you do not know now, but afterward you will understand.” Peter said to him, “You shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered him, “If I do not wash you, you have no part in me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Jesus said to him, “He who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but he is clean all over; and you are clean, but not every one of you.” (John 13:3-10)

     When he takes on the servile task of washing the Apostles’ feet, Jesus doesn’t simply speak but acts out his message, in the manner of an Old Testament prophet.  He is showing the Apostles through his example that the purpose of their office is to serve, and not to exalt themselves.  After Jesus notes that Peter does not understand what his Lord is doing, Peter confirms it with a curious mixture of pride and humility: he is indignant that his Master should lower himself in this way. Jesus tells him, in effect, that this is the price of discipleship, and then Peter, thinking that now he gets it, goes to the opposite extreme: in that case, wash everything!  As in the passage from Luke, Christ seems, in effect, to shake his head patiently and move on.

     There are many other examples like these in the Gospels: Peter and the other Apostles just don’t understand; then when they think they’ve finally got it, well, no, they still don’t understand.  And yet, these are the men Jesus has chosen to carry on his mission.  This tells us something about what it is to be human: none of us can figure it all out on our own.  We need the Power of the Father, the Saving Grace of Christ, and the Guidance of the Holy Spirit. When we see the same Peter acting with the inspiration of the Holy Spirit in the Acts of the Apostles (see for instance Acts 2:14-36), we see a more consistent and confident Apostle, much more worthy to be the Rock on which Christ builds his Church.

“If I do not wash you, you have no part in me.” (John 13:8)

“Christ Washing Disciples Feet” by Giotto (c. 1305)

     The washing of the feet also points to the much greater events that are about to unfold.  Christ’s death on the Cross, a servile and degrading form of execution (Roman citizens, such as St. Paul, underwent the more dignified penalty of beheading with a sword), was the ultimate act of Service, because it was all for us:

Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in the likeness of men.  And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross. (Philippians 2:5-8)

Who can blame Peter for finding that hard to accept?  But eventually he does, through God’s Grace.  I pray that I also, in the commemoration of Christ’s Passion and glory of his Resurrection, find the grace to understand and to accept His service to me, and to follow his example in my own life.