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Today we gather to remember Jesus’s last night with his disciples. John does not focus on the institution of the Lord’s Supper tonight; yet, he shows us something just as profound: a gesture that reveals the heart of Christ. Jesus bends down and washes his disciples’ feet, showing us a love that does not depend on what we do or deserve.
To understand the weight of this act, let’s recall how they arrived at this night. Last Sunday, we celebrated Palm Sunday, witnessing Jesus enter Jerusalem, hailed as the Messiah. But between that celebration and tonight, everything changed. The crowd murmured. The disciples felt fear and confusion. Jesus spoke of betrayal, denial, and suffering. They expected a triumphant ruler; instead, Jesus came to serve.
And in the midst of that tension, something happened no one expected.
Washing feet was a servant’s task. Roads were dusty; travelers’ feet were dirty, sweaty, worn. No one volunteered to do this for another person, much less a teacher for his disciples. It was a humble act, even humiliating.
Yet Jesus, the Teacher, removes his outer robe, ties a towel around his waist, and kneels. He bends over to clean what others would not touch.
Our feet represent our daily journeys. They carry our mistakes, weariness, emotional burdens, and wrong choices. It is there, in that real and dirty place, that Jesus meets us. 
God does not wait for us to be clean. God draws near to cleanse us.
And He does this knowing what is to come:  He knows Judas will betray him, that Peter will deny him, and that the others will abandon him. And yet, he kneels.  His love does not depend on our faithfulness; it depends on His.  Grace comes before betrayal, failure, before everything falls apart. It is as if Jesus were saying: “I know who you are. I know what is coming. And yet, I give myself for you.” 
That same Christ continues to serve us tonight.
John may not recount the Lord’s Supper, but the other Gospels do tell us what happened that very night. 
While they were gathered together, Jesus took bread, gave thanks, broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, “This is my body, given for you.” Then he took the cup and said, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, poured out for you.”  Here, Christ gives Himself, not symbolically, but fully.
When we come to this table, we come with our weary feet, with our failures, with our doubts, with our burdens.  And Christ receives us, nourishes us, forgives us, and sustains us.
This is the key to everything Jesus teaches tonight: First, He draws near. He serves. He gives Himself.
From there, He gives us this clear command: “Love one another as I have loved you.” It is not a command just for Sundays or for special moments, but for every moment of our lives: It is not an impossible ideal, but a life that springs from what we have already received. 
Loving this is hard. It is hard to forgive when we have been hurt or to reach out to someone when there is resentment or pain.
Sometimes loving this way means bowing down when we don’t want to. Staying silent when we want to respond. Or reaching out when walking away would be easier.  And that’s real. It happens to us at home, at work, in church, in our closest relationships.
And this is where Jesus’ example matters: it doesn’t start with our effort; it starts with what Christ has done for us.  We serve and love because we have been served and loved first. Christ continues to kneel for us even today.  That is why foot washing is not just an example, it is a life that begins with Christ living in us. 
Just as Jesus humbled himself by washing feet, he also gave Himself at the table. And tonight, we reflect on both these acts as we strip the altar, preparing for what is to come.
We remove linens, candles, decorations. Everything is gradually taken away. It is not just a symbolic gesture. It is a reflection of what is to come. Just as Jesus humbled himself by washing feet, now he submits to being stripped of everything.  Of his dignity. Of his companionship. Of his security.  He will be betrayed, abandoned, handed over.
The altar is left bare because the story becomes raw. Because this love does not remain in words. This love reaches all the way to the cross.
And this touches us because there are moments in life when we feel stripped away—when relationships fail, certainties vanish, or God seems silent. Tonight reminds us that Christ has already been there. The same one who knelt to wash feet is the one who goes to the cross. And he does it for us: to sustain us when we don’t understand, to reach out to us when we fail, to not let go of us when everything breaks.
That is why we do not leave here trusting in what we can do. We leave trusting in what Christ has already done. He has loved us. He continues to serve us, and continues to give Himself.
Tonight, let Jesus kneel for you. Let Him cleanse your weariness, heal what is broken, sustain what is weak. And then, take that love to others: bow down, serve, give yourself, because grace never stops with us. It flows outward. 
Even the smallest acts of love count, a patient word to someone difficult, listening when you’d rather speak, helping someone quietly at work or at home. These are moments where Christ’s love flows through you. And they all begin because He first loved and served us. Amen