It had been a busy day for Peter and John. The responsibility to prepare for the Passover celebration had fallen to them. Jesus had asked them personally. They had been honored by his request. This would be their little group’s last Pesach (Passover) together. Every detail had to be just right. Their tasks involved securing a room, going to the temple to slaughter and dress the Paschal lamb, purchasing bitter herbs and unleavened bread at the Suk, diluting the wine, roasting the mutton, setting the table, and drawing water from the local well for the foot washing.
When we read about the disciples’ last supper together, we ponder the Passover portrait of the lamb’s blood splashed on the doorframes of Hebrew dwellings. We may even think about the millions of innocent paschal lambs sacrificed over the centuries. The imagery reminds us of the Lamb of God, pouring his lifeblood on the altar of the cross for the sins of all people. But for many of the Jews at Jesus’ time, the feast had evolved into a celebration that was as much about fellowship, togetherness, and renewing old acquaintances. During the disciples’ trek south from Galilee to Jerusalem, the mood had been a somber mix of anticipation and anxiety. Jesus had indicated he would be leaving them for a while to be with his Father. The idea of being separated from 145 him was a hard concept to process. Furthermore, he seemed more driven than usual—though the mission still remained vague. Along the way, the disciples had joined other pilgrims on the road to Jerusalem. To pass the time and remain focused on their religious objective, the travelers sang familiar psalms to lift their spirits. One psalm in particular described the heartfelt relationships they cherished.
How good and pleasant it is
when brothers live
together in unity!
Like precious oil poured
on the head . . .
running down on Aaron’s beard,
down upon the collar of his robes.
It is as if the dew of Hermon
were falling on Mount Zion.
For there the LORD bestows his blessing,
even life forevermore.
The disciples’ formal training was coming to an end. In the last three years, they had grown very close to Jesus. Their camaraderie with one another had flourished as well. Soon they would return to their hometowns to teach others what they had learned from their rabbi.
And, oh, how much they had learned! Yet how little they truly understood! Some important issues still remained unsettled. Like the question of greatness. How ironic that on a day when the paschal celebration was supposed to be warming hearts with the joy of unity and fellowship, an old dispute resurfaced. Each man, with siblinglike rivalry, clamored for the place of honor at the table.
Jesus patiently explained that greatness was not measured in his kingdom as the world measures it. The lesson had been broached before. But when the time came for washing feet, no one volunteered. Each thought too highly of himself to stoop to such a demeaning task.
Shedding his outer coat and wrapping a towel around his waist, Jesus humbly knelt at the foot of each student and began the foot-washing ritual. He wanted each of them to realize that the desire for elevated status was evidence of an attitude saturated with sinful self-centeredness. He was connecting the idea of humble service to their future as the church’s leaders—a future that would bring them blessings as they would exercise humility in their relationships with others. “The one who rules,” he softly said, “should be the one who serves.”
When it was his turn, Peter resisted. He indicated that he would prefer to show reverence for Jesus by washing the Master’s feet, and not the other way around.
Jesus used Peter’s response to explain a far greater need for spiritual cleansing. “Unless I wash you, . . .” said Jesus.
The lesson was no longer about honoring Jesus or personal humility, it was picture language for divine grace and the spiritual bath we so desperately need through the forgiveness of sins.
Werner Franzmann writes, “Our sins make us unclean, filthy in the sight of God. We cannot cleanse ourselves. We can be washed clean only by the atoning blood of Jesus.”
Later Jesus would institute a sacrament that, along with the eating and drinking, would assure us with the words “given and poured out for you for the forgiveness of sins.”
Peter understood the word picture. If his sin was the issue, he wanted Jesus to wash him from head to toe.
As the evening wore on, Jesus spoke about other relationships—some that would cause great difficulty. “The world hates you,” he declared. “If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also. . . . They will treat you this way because of my name, for they do not know the One who sent me. . . . All this I have told you so that you will not go astray. . . . A time is coming when anyone who kills you will think he is offering a service to God. . . . You will remember that I warned you.”
The Lord also spoke of his loving relationship with his heavenly Father—of their perfect unity. He described the Godhead’s love for his followers. This would be Jesus’ final discourse. He would love them all (including Judas) to the end. He wanted to strengthen their faith for the gut-wrenching days that lay ahead. “Remain in me, and I will remain in you,” he said. “Bear fruit—fruit that will last.” “Love one another. As I have loved you.” “The Father himself loves you because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God.”
He prayed for his disciples. The privileged work of carrying Jesus’ message of redemption and reconciliation with God to the far corners of the planet had been given to them. “Holy Father, protect them by the power of your name . . . so that they may be one as we are one.”
Then he prayed for his church—for you and me and for our relationships with one another. He prayed that we may have the same tender relationship with his Father that he knows. He asked for us to have the same beautiful oneness with the Father that he enjoys. “May they be brought to complete unity,” he prayed, “to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.” Fellowship, unity, oneness, godly relationships—these were the golden threads woven through the last Passover’s conversations.
Years later the apostle Paul would note that the unity Jesus prayed for in the upper room is centered in the oneness we have in him. It is a gift that transcends all others—a gift to be cherished, and shared. We are one in Christ Jesus and his enduring Word. Such unity does not come to us on the basis of gender, race, ethnicity, or social status. We will not find it in traditions, history, culture, or even family. Nor should we look for it in the church’s programs, its politics, or its leaders. We are one in Christ.