John 13

Monday, February 23, 2013

John 13

Reading about the washing of the feet, I often think I am focusing on the wrong part of the story.  But I have washed feet at the Holy Thursday Mass and I have had my feet washed.  I have washed feet at retreats as well and had my feet washed.  And let me tell you, I feel a whole lot more comfortable washing the feet than having them washed.

I remember even the first time, as a very young person, having my feet washed on the altar at St. Anne's, I wished I was the altar server assisting the priest instead.  It seemed a better thing to be doing.

Something I suppose we should remember in the more subtle interactions of our lives - where we often are happy to have our feet washed without reciprocation.

But today I was reminded of a friend of mine's evaluation of a fellow actor in Staunton.  My friend and I were discussing why this clearly talented actor was such a difficult scene partner to work with.  After all, I said, she is always giving her partners something to play off of (this is a wonderful trait I remember complaining was absent in my own scene partner for the class).  My friend pointed out that, yes, she gave her partners something to work with, but she never took anything she was given.

I hope this makes sense to non-theatre folk.  But there is a kind of selfishness and vanity in never taking the help of your scene partner.  When we say our scene partner is giving us something to work with, we mean acting and connecting with us and trying to communicate with us.  It's a little difficult to describe, but it's easy to see onstage.  Someone animated and specific and talking to us.  We also mean making bold choices so that we have something to play off of - probably this most of all.

But this actor had an entirely different problem.  Whatever interesting, bold, animated thing that her scene partner did, this actor would not change what she did in response to them.  A million things were going on inside her head, and she would willingly offer them to her scene partner.  But she never listened enough to change her plan in response to what her scene partner gave her.

I have had a friend who I felt saw herself this way - as the one constantly giving in the friendship.  In all of her friendships.  In a way that I felt was unfair, really, because I felt I metaphorically washed her feet as well.  But you cannot have a true connection without being willing to play both parts.

Jesus explains this to Peter here.  First, that he must let Jesus wash his feet, and then that he must wash the feet of others.  You have to be able to do both.  You have to be willing to be taken care of and loved.  You have to be willing to be helped and taught.

The Commencement address at my MFA graduation focused on this same aspect of charitable work.  You have to listen to the community and then help them do what THEY know they need.  You have to wash their feet and allow them to wash your feet.  Otherwise, you are just trying to be Jesus in the wrong sense.  You are trying to be the hero, not to do good.  Which is the moral the end of The Dark Knight dresses up in all its superhero movie patter - you don't want to be a good person (you don't want to be thought of as a good person) first and foremost; first and foremost you must want to do good.

And to do good, you have to let others wash your feet.  You must let others have the less awkward position from time to time.  You must let others feel the respect for and need you have of them.  You must be willing to need others and appreciate others, give them the opportunity to serve you and feel in control and capable of helping you.  There is something so wonderfully empowering about helping someone.  You can't hog that feeling.

A measure of a good relationship of any kind:
Do I wash their feet as often as they wash mine?  Do I allow them to wash mine?

You cannot become your best self entirely on your own.  To be clean, you must be washed.