Holy work in human hands

Sermon by Pr. Michelle Sevig on Maundy Thursday + Thursday, April 2, 2026

“You have such beautiful feet”…says no one, ever!

Actually, a doctor did say that to someone I know during their last physical exam, but I think she was referencing how healthy they looked for their age. 

Most of us do not examine other people’s feet or show our own feet off to others. We’re more likely to be self-conscious about our feet, keeping them covered with socks and shoes. I know some people beautify their feet with pedicures on Maundy Thursday just so their feet are presentable for the foot washing ritual tonight. And others choose not to remove their shoes and socks at all and would rather not allow someone to even see—let alone touch—their feet.

It’s understandable that people feel uneasy about showing their feet in church. But hear me out: feet are pretty revered in the scriptures. In the letter to the Romans we hear, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!” A woman anoints Jesus’ feet with precious oil, preparing him for burial. Jesus himself tells his disciples that if they are not welcomed in a town, they should shake the dust from their feet and go on their way. Interesting images of feet—feet just like ours.

In tonight’s Gospel, Jesus lays aside his garments, wraps a towel around his waist, pours water into a basin, and begins to wash the disciples’ feet. I wonder what the disciples thought when they saw their teacher kneeling down like a servant, preparing to wash their dusty, worn, calloused feet. Foot washing with Jesus wasn’t like a luxurious pedicure at the spa. It was dirty work. A messy act of love.

Peter certainly thought something was wrong. When Jesus approached him, Peter protested. Teachers did not wash the feet of their students. Masters did not serve their servants. People of honor did not kneel down in the dust to do the work of the lowest household servant. But Jesus did exactly that.

In that moment Jesus revealed something essential about God’s love. God does not remain distant and dignified while others do the work of care. God kneels. God serves. God enters into the messiness of human life in order to love us.

Jesus tells Peter that unless he allows himself to be washed, he cannot share in what Jesus is doing. Before the disciples can follow Jesus’ example, they must first receive his love. Before they can serve, they must first allow themselves to be served. And that is often the hardest part for us too.

We may feel uneasy about letting someone wash our feet. It feels vulnerable. We worry about how our feet look or smell. We are used to hiding the imperfect parts of ourselves. But Jesus is not waiting for perfectly clean feet and polished nails before he kneels down. He meets us exactly where we are.

Tonight we remember that Jesus washed the feet of the people he loved—and so we wash feet too. To someone experiencing this practice for the first time, it might feel unusual or awkward. To kneel before someone, to touch their feet, or to place your own feet in another person’s hands requires a kind of trust and vulnerability we rarely practice. Yet it is precisely in this physical, tangible act that we begin to understand more deeply what it means to follow Christ.

Hands and feet may seem like ordinary body parts, but they become instruments of love when they are used in service to others. When we kneel to wash another person’s feet, we acknowledge that we belong to one another in Christ. In that moment the usual distinctions that divide us—status, wealth, politics, or background—lose their power. At the basin we meet simply as people loved by God and called to love one another. 

Jesus calls this a new commandment: “Love one another as I have loved you.” This is not a sentimental kind of love. It is not merely a feeling or a kind thought. The love Jesus commands is active and embodied. It bends down. It gets its hands wet. It enters into the messiness of real human lives.

Throughout his ministry Jesus spoke this love through his hands. These were the hands that touched the cheeks of children and welcomed them. The hands that restored sight to the blind and hearing to the deaf. The hands that touched the sick and the outcast when others would not come near them. The hands that reached out even to the dead and called them back to life. Tonight we remember that those same hands washed the feet of his friends. And later those hands will be stretched out on a cross. Jesus’ love is not distant or abstract. It is embodied, costly, and poured out for the life of the world. 

Tonight we’ll also have an opportunity to anoint our hands, reminding us that Christ’s love is embodied through our hands anointed for service in the world. Some hands will care for the sick and dying. Some will prepare meals for the hungry. Some will build homes, teach children, play music, grow gardens, create art, or offer comfort to someone who feels alone. Parents and caregivers use their hands to bathe and care for young children. Artists shape beauty that lifts weary spirits. Cooks and gardeners feed hungry neighbors. Teachers guide minds and nurture curiosity. Everyday work becomes holy work when it is done in love for our neighbors. Our hands can bless, forgive, welcome, and heal. In countless ways, Christ’s love reaches the world through the work of human hands.

On this holy night, Jesus is both servant and host. He kneels to wash feet, and he gathers his friends at the table. As we wash and are washed, we remember his command to love one another. And as we gather at the table to eat and drink, we remember the promise that stands behind that command: “Just as I have loved you.” Before we love, Christ loves us. Before we serve, Christ serves us. Before we kneel at the feet of another, Christ has already knelt at ours.

Tonight we receive that love again—in water, in oil, in bread and wine. And having received it, we are sent into the world with hands ready to serve and feet ready to carry good news.

Amen.