Materials
Real World Encounters with Jesus in the Gospel of John
Serving Tables
John 13
by R. Todd Bouldin
Read John 13:1-5
Prayer
I am not much of a fan of late night television, but I occasionally watch David Letterman. The funniest Letterman show that I have ever seen was broadcast on June 17, 1996 when Letterman left his desk on his late night show to work at a Taco Bell drive-thru counter. The camera filmed him as he took one order after another. Here is just a sample.
LETTERMAN: Hi. Welcome to Taco Bell. What do you want, tacos?
CUSTOMER: No. I would actually like a light chicken burrito, nachos with a side order of guacamole and a three-cheese melt and a medium soda.
LETTERMAN: That's an awful lot of food. How many people are eating out there?
CUSTOMER: There's just two of us, and it's not a lot of food.
LETTERMAN: It seems like an awful lot of food to me, and I get the feeling you're gonna eat it by yourself.
CUSTOMER: No.
LETTERMAN: How much do you weigh?
CUSTOMER: Does it matter?
LETTERMAN: With that kind of food, yeah, when we're dealing with this kind of quantity, we need to know the weight of the customer.
CUSTOMER: Give me a break.
LETTERMAN: Hi. Welcome to Taco Bell. What do you want?
CUSTOMER: Four taco supremes and one nacho supreme.
LETTERMAN: Can you order a little more food?
CUSTOMER: What?
LETTERMAN: I am one taco supreme away from being employee of the month.
CUSTOMER: No, that's not what I want.
LETTERMAN: What do you want to eat today?
CUSTOMER: Three light chicken soft tacos.
LETTERMAN: How about a burrito?
CUSTOMER: No, thanks.
LETTERMAN: How about a big burrito?
CUSTOMER: No, thanks.
LETTERMAN: How about the biggest burrito you ever laid eyes on in your life?
CUSTOMER: You know, this --
LETTERMAN: How about a burrito so big we've got to strap it to the roof of your car? How about that, sir? Would you like that?
The Letterman episode really would not be that funny if it were not Letterman behind the counter. It is the fact that a major star of network television is working at a Taco Bell counter that makes anything he says all that funny. We just wouldn’t expect it.
Those of you who follow baseball are familiar with Mark Cuban. He is the owner of the Dallas Mavericks, and he is quite a maverick himself. He made a fortune during the dot.com revolution, and as a result he bought the Mavericks. During the first two years that he had owned the team, the NBA fined him over $1 million for comments the league found detrimental. One of his latest fines came when he stated that he wouldn’t hire the league’s chief of officiating, Ed Rush, to manage a Dairy Queen (you have to live in Texas to be able to appreciate that). The commissioner thought that was an insensitive remark, so he fined him another $500,000.
The commissioner was not the only one who was upset. So was Dairy Queen. They said, “You should just try managing a Dairy Queen before you make rude comments like that.” So a week later, Cuban found himself serving cokes and ice cream at Dairy Queen in Coppell, Texas. The sight of a multi-billionaire standing behind a counter making soft ice cream cones drew such a crowd that the store ran out of ice. We just don’t expect those we deem to be great to serve.
John tells us the story of another man whose greatness exceeded any human greatness. In John 1 he said of this man, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of men.” John goes on to say in verse 14, “The Word became flesh and lived among us. We have seen in his glory, the glory as of the Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth.” It is this same Word, this man Jesus Christ, that we have seen perform great signs and teach great truths. Those who witnessed it came to call him “Messiah”, and “Son of God”, and “the Son of Man.” He said of himself that he is the I AM, the bread of life, the good shepherd, the light of the world, and the resurrection and the life.
And now we find that same Jesus in the upper room washing feet. It is so beyond imagining that it is almost as funny as David Letterman serving burritos at the Taco Bell. It would be funny if it were not the sign of a profound love that washes over us and tells us the greatest truth about God that we will ever know: The God of the Universe is known most fully, not by the exercise of his power but by the humility of his service.
The man we would expect on a throne is on his knees washing the feet of the disciples. It is not where you would expect to find him. Because the standard footwear was sandals, and most of the roads in Jerusalem were dirt or at least dusty with the desert sand. After a long day of walking in leather sandals along those dusty roads, a person’s feet were neither soft nor clean. Usually a basin and a towel were left at the door for people to wash their own feet when they entered. As a matter of Jewish law, there was only one thing a master could not command his slave to do for him: to wash his feet. Washing feet was even too demeaning to one’s slave. Yet, here is Jesus, reclining at the supper table with his closest friends, those who know him best, and they watch as he leaves the table, changes into the clothing of a slave, and picks up the towel and basin to wash their feet.
Why would the great Master do something so lowly for his disciples that even a slave would not be asked to do it? To understand why John wanted Christians in the late first century to know this act of Jesus, I think it is important to notice what John said and what he didn’t say. First, what he did say. John begins chapter 13 with lofty and majestic theological language that New Testament scholar Dale Bruner has called the second prologue of John. The camera pulls back again to a nearly cosmic perspective, and we are told that Jesus soon would have to leave the world, and that He had come from God and was going to God. He knew that “all things had been placed in his hands.” That is the exact translation of the Greek. The verbs of verses 1-3 are powerful, majestic and awesome. That is why the act of Jesus in verse 4 hits us like a ton of bricks. We go from the galaxy to the basin, from all things being placed into Jesus hands to Jesus using those same hands to wash stinky, dirty feet.
John says that precisely because Jesus had the whole world in his hands that he washes feet with those hands. Because Jesus is God in the flesh – this God who loves the cosmos so much that He sent his Son -- this God known to us in Jesus Christ who did not consider equality with God something to cling to but gave it up, making himself a servant (Philippians 2:5-11) – then this Jesus who takes up the towel to wash feet should really be no surprise to us at all. That is just who God is. “Knowing who he was” -- knowing who you are is always the first step toward being able to give yourself away. There is something profoundly liberating about not having to worry about your status because your identity is already in place. You are free to focus on others when you are clear about who you are. Jesus was clear. He even says in verse 13 that He is “I AM.” But now here at the end of his ministry in the Gospel of John Jesus reveals with stunning clarity what it means to I AM: it means you are the servant of all.
John 13:1 says that in taking up the towel and washing feet that Jesus “showed the disciples the full extent of his love.” Literally, Jesus wanted to love them “to the end” or “to the goal.” In other words, in this act Jesus wanted to show what true love really is. True love is being a servant of people. And he reminds us of the great reversal of values in the Kingdom of God: that is you truly are great, you truly serve. Greatness is not a result of your office, or title or status before God or others. In fact, greatness has little to do with you. Greatness is the product of a life given over to people. But it all begins by knowing who you are – that you are the child of a God who serves.
John tells us that Jesus began to wash feet, and when he came to Peter, Peter reacted by saying, “You’re not doing that to me!” Peter is too proud to receive such a sacrificial act until he learns that receiving this gift is the only way that he can have a relationship with this man who loved him. John wanted us to see that the only way we too can have this relationship with God is to allow Jesus to wash our feet. On the surface, none of us seem to mind. But in reality, all of us keep returning to our own efforts to save ourselves. It is as hard for us to rely on the cross as our means for salvation as it was for Peter to allow Jesus to wash his feet. That is because allowing Jesus to wash you means admitting the truth about you, and about Him. Peter wanted no part in it. But Jesus said that was the only way, and so Peter finally asked Jesus to give him a complete bath. I don’t think that imagery was lost on John’s church, nor on us. Once we know that Jesus longs to wash us, then baptism seems like the greatest gift possible because we allow God to give us a complete bath.
Jesus then tells his disciples exactly what this act means. In verse 12 we read, “After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, ‘Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord – and you are right, for that is what I AM. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. . . . If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.” (vv. 12-17). Over the centuries this command has been watered down (ha) with the hygiene opportunities of showers and baths that we now enjoy, along with improvements of shoes and socks. We still don’t particularly care for feet. We have tended to read these words symbolically, focusing primarily on the second half of the story about service. Perhaps we should first practice the text as Jesus commands it then think about what else it might mean.
During my last year in seminary, I went through a period where I found myself in a great depression. I am not sure of all the reasons, but I felt cut off from people that I loved. I was lonely. There were theological divisions that had given way to strained relationships. I was unsure of my future. I decided to attend the Maundy Thursday service that April, on the Thursday night before Good Friday. I listened to the story of how Jesus washed feet of the disciples whom he loved. We then sat in a circle, and as we sang, people were invited to wash the feet of someone they loved. A friend of mine with whom I had experienced some estrangement that had led to my loneliness came over to me, got down on his knees, and began to wash my feet. Tears began to roll down my face as I felt the love of God through the hands of my friend who took up the towel and showed his love for me. Several years later, I witnessed racial reconciliation when a white minister of a large church in Nashville knelt down and washed the feet of his black brothers and sisters at a “black church.” Washing feet leads to the reconciliation of relationships, the act of forgiveness, and the demonstration of compassion.
It is telling to me that we still resist this practice so much. Washing another person’s feet is still humbling both for the one washing and the one being washed. I believe that if we actually washed one another’s feet we might love each other more. But even if we consider the act symbolic, the act calls us to real service that is not a mere symbol. The ministry of the towel is the ministry of the church. In what is a self-centered, self-absorbed world that runs only on the schedule of our likes and dislikes, our desires and interests – Jesus calls us to quietly and humbly place ourselves in the service of people. Our church should first and foremost be a place of service. We do not come here to be “serviced” – to take part in worship and programs designed to serve us. We come here first of all to serve people as we have been served by God. So this text asks of us a very hard question: Are we a church of servants? Are we known as a culture of service and humility before anything else? If not, this text teaches us that we may just not know who we are – or whose we are.
There are many quiet humble servants of Jesus here today. They understand the ministry of the towel. There are people serving your children during this hour so that you can worship and they can learn. There are people who visit our elderly and shut-ins without any recognition. There are people who work tirelessly in our community. There are people who quietly serve us without any reward. They know who they are – they follow a Jesus who takes up a towel. Is your faith producing service? It’s not enough to come to this congregation and just learn. It is not enough to put your name on the membership roles. Is your life given over to service, even humiliation, for the good of people? This text teaches us, if anything, that those who have received the grace of Jesus wash feet like Jesus. If you are not washing feet, are you sure you have received his grace? Are you sure you allowed him to wash your feet?
The fascinating thing about this text is not only what John says but what he doesn’t say. The other Gospels tell us that it was on this night that Jesus took the bread and the cup and announced a new covenant around the Passover table. But not in John. John knew that his readers would know the events of the Upper Room that evening. But John forces his readers to dig a little deeper. When John wants us to know the full extent of the love of God, he does not tell us about communion but about the towel. It is as if the towel tells us as much about Jesus as bread and wine. Communion without a towel is not a complete image of Jesus. The cross and the towel go hand in hand because they both begin with a person who knows who they are giving themselves to others with complete abandon and sacrifice. That is why Paul is so offended that some Christians in Corinth thought they could take the Lord’s Supper without paying attention to the hungry members of their church who sat around them. The Table and the Towel go together, and we are blessed when we do both of them. The Table should always move us to the Towel.
The cross without service is as incomplete as the Table without a Towel. I know of one congregation that has one long table that runs the length of their auditorium and their fellowship hall. Communion is served in one room on that table, and the homeless are served in the other room on that same table. That congregation gets the point. The Lord’s Supper tells you who you are, and knowing who you are, you serve.
Three times in this text John tells us that one of the disciples who would betray Jesus also is sitting at the table. Can you imagine what it was like when Jesus came to Judas, and without a word, simply washed his feet as well? There is no one who is beyond the washing of Jesus. No matter who you are here this morning, no matter how many times you have betrayed him -- Jesus in great humility wants to wash you. Can you imagine Him walking down the aisle, stopping at your row, asking you to take off your shoes, and washing your feet? And the person who you really don’t care for over there . . . and the person you think is ready to betray you over there . . . He makes his way around the congregation and washes all of us this morning. If Jesus has washed all of us, should we not wash each other’s feet as well?
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