As Jesus and his inner circle gather for the Passover supper – an occasion of great joy as the Jews remembered the deliverance of their ancestors from tyranny and slavery in Egypt by God's intervention in human history through his servant Moses – and simultaneously, looked forward to God's intervening again, through his servant Messiah, to deliver them from the tyranny of the Romans – perhaps this year, perhaps this very Passover season –as they gathered to sing the well beloved psalms and hear again the Exodus story; the twelve are –well, grumpy. And they had been grumpy for awhile now.

Jesus wondered of if were his fault. Had his frank talk about the risks of this journey contributed to their anxiety and their sulking? Judas, the most volatile of them all, seems especially withdrawn tonight –and had been ever since the incident with the moneychangers earlier in the week. On more than one occasion, Jesus had caught Judas staring at him in an odd way. Where is his heart tonight?

Casting his mind back as he pours the cup of blessing for them, he thought of their entry into Jerusalem with the other Galilean peasants. For Jesus, it was intended as a protest – a counter demonstration – to ridicule the pretensions of Pilate's procession with his grand white stallion and his crack troops. It was intended to make the poor of Palestine laugh but also to make them think. But some of the landless poor and even his own disciples expected something else – that God would send a mighty heavenly militia to augment their numbers and to defeat the Romans with violence and establish, by force, God's reign on earth. Did they misunderstand the whole point of the demonstration after all?

Casting his mind further back still, he remembered the conversations on the road from Galilee to this place. They had been arguing with each other about which of them were the greatest. James and John, Zebedee's sons, had humiliated themselves by getting their mother to ask a favor of Jesus, that her boys should be given places of honor at Jesus' right and left hand side when the Kingdom comes. He had gently rebuked her but the boys persisted - and not too subtlety.

He remembered the feast they had all been invited to weeks ago and how they had fought to take the seats of honor, behaving like Gentile lords. He admonished them to always take the lowest place at the table in hopes of being invited by their hosts to "come up higher." They grumbled then, they were grumbling now.

When they came into the room, the property owner had of course left a pitcher of clean, warm water, a basin and towels so that they could wash the dust of their journey from their feet before reclining for the Passover meal.

On other occasions, they simply took turns washing their brothers – but not tonight. Tonight, the pitcher and basin sat unused as each sat stubbornly at their place.

Looking at each of them, Jesus realizes again how much he loves these men – and the women who gather separately in the city for their supper. He loves them but he has much to say to them this night because his heart tells him that the time is short. This controversy with the chief priests is coming to its conclusion. Tonight, he would pray in earnest for Caiaphas, the high priest; so cynical in his political ambitions; but if his heart would only soften, he could help lead the renewal of God's people Israel. Caiaphas was on his heart tonight – but this sullenness has got to stop.

And Jesus gets up from the table, takes off his cloak, wrapped the towel about his waist and kneels down and washes his disciples' feet and dried them with the towel.

The disciples, who had been quietly bickering still, fall into a stunned silence as Jesus moves from one to the next. Judas, for his part, turns his face away from Jesus and mumbles something unheard. Peter, resisting vehemently, says: "Never…you shall never wash my feet!" But Jesus, with sadness replies: "Peter, if I do not wash you, you can have nothing in common with me." And Peter relents with his typical bravado…

After he has washed each of them – Andrew and Simon Peter, James and John, Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas, Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, Thaddeus, Simon the Zealot and Judas - he looks at them again with a heart filled with affection and hope and says: "If I, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, you should wash each other's feet. I have given you an example so that you may copy what I have done for you. Happiness will be yours if you behave accordingly."

The disciples look confused and sit in a stunned silence – not understanding, frankly bewildered by the strange events of this week culminating in this act of humility. Jesus, gazing into their eyes deeply, says these words: "I give you a new commandment: love one another, just as I have loved you, you also must love one another. Everyone will know that you are my disciples."

A "new commandment" - embedded in a mundane washing, to symbolize humility in place of hubris.

Like the band of Jesus' followers centuries ago, a congregation is a mixed bag of folk. We are all pilgrims stumbling along in the darkness trying to find our way to holiness and wholeness. There are people in this congregation – as in every congregation – who are, at times, quite easy to love and those with whom we struggle, at times, to love. And we ourselves, each of us, may be, at times, a challenge to someone else's generosity of spirit. In short, we are flawed human beings; souls soiled by the changes and chances of daily life in this far too barren a land, like soiled feet after a long journey over barren soil.

What could Jesus have meant when he told us – no, commanded us – to love one another as he loves us?

I suspect that Jesus is not asking us to have warm and toasty feelings about each other – how simplistic, how sentimental – but rather, he was challenging us to be mindful of the fullness of humanity each of us carries within and to honor that in one another - for that full humanness is the presence of the divine in each of us. We are all, each of us, bearers of the holy one to the world.

And when we nurture another disciple, we honor that flawed, imperfect, broken vessel of humanity that is that person but also, that spirit within which, nevertheless, bears the Christ of God. And because each of us is a convicted sinner forgiven and loved still by the free gift of God's grace, we are –each one of us – the redeemed of God and deserving of the most tender care.