For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes. Today’s celebration is often referred to as Mass of the Lord’s Supper. It is an important celebration in the life of the Church because it introduces us to the events in which we commemorate the great mysteries of our redemption, the Easter Triduum. Moreover, the events that we are commemorating today are central to our liturgies so much so that they have come to define our Catholic identity. For today we are commemorating the institution of the Eucharist, the symbol of our unity and our sacrament. As members of the body of Christ, today’s feast celebrates our institution, for it is the very mysteries that we celebrate in the Eucharist that has come to shape who we are as a Church.
The celebration of the Lord’s Supper is integral to our faith because of its connection to the great feast of the Passover. For when on that evening Jesus together with the twelve gathered around the table for a meal that has ever since been referred to as the Last Supper, they were not doing anything new. It was the eve of the feast of the Passover and they had come together in obedience to the command of the Lord of observing this great feast (cf. Exodus 12:14). The Passover was not just one of the many feasts that the community reverently observed. The Passover was THE feast. It is central to the identity of Jesus’ community and its relationship with their God. It celebrates perhaps one of the greatest acts of God on behalf of this community: its liberation from slavery in Egypt. It is an act to which the Lord often makes references to remind the community of the special relationship that they have. At the heart of the Passover celebration is a meal that became a memorial celebration recalling the salvific acts of God on the night of the Passover. However, on this particular evening, even as Jesus and his disciples were honoring the Passover, he (Jesus) preceded to perform a ritual that broadened the significance of the feast and in so doing making it relevant for his non-Jewish followers (cf. Second Reading).
Any Jewish meal was to be had in the context of thanksgiving. It was a thanksgiving in recognition of the goodness of God. It was a thanksgiving to God the giver of each and every good gift: for food, health, family, peace, life, for liberation from slavery in Egypt, and for special election as God’s people. When Jesus raised the cup and the bread in thanksgiving that evening, he thanked God for all these as well as for what God was about to do in his life. He identified the bread and wine with his body that he was about to give for the salvation of his brothers and sisters. In addition, he issued a new command: those who were present and who witnessed what he did were to carry on what they had just witnessed. Whenever this small community gathered around the table with him raised the bread and cup of wine in thanksgiving, they were to do this in memory of what he was about to do: his self-offering on behalf of his brothers and sisters. But that was not all. Jesus also saw in his action God making a new covenant with creation, a covenant that was to be sealed in his blood. He saw in his act a new beginning, a new liberation, a new start for humanity, a new Passover. And just as God had given a command regarding the original Passover, Jesus commands his followers to always remember the new Passover: “Do this in remembrance of me.” So what it is that Jesus commanded us to do?
The cup of salvation I will take up in order to commune with the Blood of Christ. Jesus wants us to be in communion with him in his self-offering. He had already joined us to himself when he offered himself up. The only thing that he now requires of us is to allow that self-offering to be meaningful. We do this when we raise the cup of salvation, that is, when we join in the self-offering of Jesus by offering ourselves. We offer ourselves when, like Jesus, we wash one another’s feet.
The second thing that Jesus did on this day was to remind his followers what constituted their special call: service. By offering to wash the feet of the apostles, Jesus was once again doing what he had done all his life and calling on his followers to do likewise: “I have given you a model to follow. Do it in memory of me.” As Jesus’ followers, we keep his memory by washing one another’s feet. It is by washing one another’s feet that Jesus’ followers can worthily raise the cup of salvation.
Washing one another’s feet as Jesus did is not an easy feat to accomplish. It is neither for the one doing the washing nor for the one whose foot is washed. It was not easy for Jesus and for the twelve. Peter protested. He was not going to let Jesus do that to him. It was not only because Jesus was his master that made Peter to protest. It was probably on a more practical and personal reason. Jesus had not issued an earlier warning that there was going to be a washing of the feet. And even if he did, it would probably have made very minimal difference. The most the disciples had for covering their feet was a sandal. They also had to travel on foot – not on paved walkways but on dirt roads which were muddy when raining and dusty when dry. In addition, when the twelve sat down to have their meal, it was late in the day. Their feet were covered with sweat, dust, mud, and any and all things that we trample upon when we walk. We wouldn’t want someone to touch our feet in such a condition. We now probably understand Peter’s objection. But Jesus insisted that he had to wash Peter’s feet for if he didn’t, then he and Peter couldn’t be friends: “Unless I wash your feet, you will have no inheritance with me.” Peter just had to trust in Jesus. Their friendship depended on it.
Washing each other’s feet is a sign of trust and love. It is a demonstration of the willingness to allow oneself to be vulnerable in the presence of the other. This is what Jesus commanded the disciples to do: to be vulnerable before one another. He was commanding them to love and trust one another. For it is this that constitutes discipleship.