Thoughts, Prayers & Art

Originally published: April 17,2025

This morning, I’ve been sitting quietly with John 13. A sacred moment unfolds before us—Jesus, on the eve of betrayal, takes off his outer robe, wraps a towel around himself, pours water into a basin, and kneels to wash the feet of his disciples.
He doesn’t preach.
He doesn’t perform.
He simply serves.
And in doing so, he reveals a love so deep, so tender, so bold—it breaks open the heart of God in the shape of human hands.
I think often about what this looks like in our world today.
If Jesus were here in the flesh, would he be found in a sanctuary or in a shelter? Would he preach from a pulpit or from the parking lot where families sleep in cars? Would he be holding Eucharistic bread or loaves in a soup kitchen? The answer, I believe, is: yes. All of the above—and then some.
The Jesus who knelt to wash the feet of his friends would be kneeling still today.
He would be comforting the immigrant detained without cause.
He would be feeding the child whose school lunch debt speaks louder than their hunger.
He would be walking the picket lines with underpaid workers and weeping with the trans youth who wonder if there’s a place for them in the world, let alone the Church.
And he would also be loving—yes, loving—even the ones who betray, deny, or mock him. That’s the part that undoes me. He washed every foot in that room. Not just the loyal, not just the kind. He even washed the feet of Judas.
And then he turns to us—not to explain it, but to command it:
“I have set you an example…
A new commandment I give you:
Love one another. Just as I have loved you.”
This is the shape of discipleship. This is the rhythm of the Gospel. It’s not about status. Not about applause. It’s about showing up with a basin and a towel and the courage to love in a world that often forgets how.
So today I ask myself—and I invite you to ask, too:
Where is my basin?
What towel am I holding?
Whose feet am I afraid to wash?
Whose feet are aching to be seen, touched, known?
Friends, in a world built on hierarchy, fear, division, and pride—our call is to bend low in love, to serve not just when it’s easy, but when it’s costly. This is how the world will know we are Christ’s—by our love.
Let that love be bold. Let it be inconvenient. Let it disturb the powerful and comfort the brokenhearted. Let it look like Jesus.
And may we never be too proud to kneel.