This just in: foot washing is uncomfortable.
Two nights ago Catholic churches of the Roman Rite and certain other Christian denominations commemorated the Last Supper with a ritual that includes washing the feet of twelve members of the community. It is done once a year, and it is usually moderately clumsy and awkward. All the more reason to do it, I say – liturgy is not meant to make us warm and fuzzy all the time.
How often do we find ourselves struggling against God’s will for us, struggling to get out of the chair before anyone puts their hands on our feet? We know best what God should do for us, and if washing our feet isn’t part of the plan, best to get out of there before things get weird. Sit down, we hear. This is happening. I’m in charge.
So we endure what is awkward, keeping our ears open for the divine voice amid the discomfort.