No Strings Attached
A week from today we will have a Maundy Thursday service at 7:00 p.m. At this service we remember the last night of Jesus’ life, specifically Jesus instituting the Eucharist and washing the disciples’ feet. We asked Becky Holaway, who leads the Altar Guild ministry, to share some reflections on the significance of this meaningful service.
Eight years ago, Brad and I attended our first ever Maundy Thursday service at Christ Church. Having our feet washed was something we’d never experienced in any of our previous churches.
When it was our turn, I did not go forward. I opted to watch instead. To be honest, it felt a little weird having another man touch my feet. And should I have gotten a pedicure before coming? But later, trying to sort out my thoughts and feelings about the service, it occurred to me that it would have been easier for me to wash feet rather than the other way around.
Why? I attribute it to the long-held belief that “thou shalt not take without giving in return.”
In 1974, the sociologist Phillip Kunz conducted an experiment to see what would happen if he sent Christmas cards to 600 total strangers. He included a short note with each one. Surprisingly, Kunz got more than 200 replies. Many included handwritten letters that were three or four pages long.
Why would someone send a three-page letter to a complete stranger? For the same reason I balked at having my feet washed. Arizona State University professor emeritus Robert Cialdini calls it the rule of reciprocation: we feel obligated to give back to others the form of behavior that they have first given us. “The rule is drilled into us as children,” Cialdini writes. “Essentially, thou shalt not take without giving in return.”
As related to Maundy Thursday, I instinctively felt there were strings attached to the towel that dried my feet. It created a sense of obligation in me. Obligation to the priest, to the church, and to God as well. They’ve done something for me, now I’m obligated to do something in return – perhaps serving in coffee hour, children’s ministry, or (heaven forbid!) the Altar Guild?
My scrambled thoughts led me back to one of my favorite books, Guilt and Grace by the Swiss physician and author Paul Tournier:
For twenty centuries the Church has been proclaiming salvation, and the grace and forgiveness of God, to a humanity oppressed with guilt. How then is it that even amongst the most fervent believers there are so few free, joyous, confident souls?
It seems to me that this arises, at least to a large extent, from a psychological attitude which I now want to stress, namely, the idea deeply engraved in the heart of all men, that everything must be paid for.
Here is the case of a man in distress. For a long period we have been able to keep to the scientific plane and to disarm his morbid guilt feelings. But there still remains a lively genuine remorse. He looks at me with a despairing glance, and then I speak to him of the grace which effaces all guilt. But he exclaims: ‘That would be too easy!’
Thou shalt not take without giving in return. Being in debt for something I can’t pay for wounds my pride, my ego. Forget the foot washing. There’s no tip jar next to the towels. I can wash my own stinky feet, thank you very much. Such a debt threatens my independent, existential freedom. Everything must be paid for! Freedom can only be achieved by paying back the debt which gave rise to it.
Exactly! And therein lies the power of grace.
This is the purpose of Lent: to be humbled, to remember I am not self-sufficient. To remember that in Christ everything has been paid for.
Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to your Cross I cling;
Naked, come to you for dress;
Helpless, look to you for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Savior, or I die.“Rock of Ages,” Augustus Toplady