Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Foot Washing and Other Quandaries

In college, I used to go to this little church out in the middle of the Arkansas rice fields.  I don't think I could find it on a map now.  This is the place where, during a potluck, a little old lady discovered I would eat squirrel (no comments, please).  She dragged me over to her big platter of fried, well, squirrel.

It was excellent, but one of the pieces was just impossible.  I diligently worked all the batter off, which was delicious.  But that was it; I couldn't get anything else.  Frustrated, I took a close look at what I'd been gnawing on, and saw... wait for it... two little squirrel eye sockets looking back at me.

Let's just say I was more judicious during the next round.*  I digress.

So one night, we got into a discussion in Bible class, and a little old lady (different one) flatly said that we should do everything the Bible says (uh, no arguments there, ma'am).  She then said that in eating the Lord's Supper (or Communion) that we should eat it, and then go out.  I had no idea what she was talking about.  Finally, someone quoted Matthew 26:30:
When they had sung the hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.
Oh!  Yeah, well, okay.  Sure.  Everyone moved on.   But she was adamant.  She wanted to go out.  We should go out.

My buddy was teaching.  He was a bit older than me, and a whole lot wiser.  He simply said, "They went to the Mount of Olives."

"Right," she agreed, "They went out.  We should go out."

"But ma'am, they went... to the Mount of Olives.  Near Jerusalem."

"Oh." *long silence*  "I see."

Sometimes it's easy to get hung up in the literal.

Like so.  Last week, we read them chillrun the story of Jesus washing the apostles' feet.  Jack paid very close attention, something he doesn't always do, frankly.  I thought, "Hey, he actually understood that we should be servants to one another.  That's awesome!"

A day or two later, I'm flopped on the fading chaise longue outside, watching Jack wipe down his New Big Boy Bicycle And It's Green And And It's Really Really FastTM with a wet washcloth.  Likes to keep his machines in tip top order, this one.

He comes over to me, and asks, I kid you not, "Daddy, can I wash your feet?"  You can take a look at the picture to see what happened next.  I gladly ignored the chain grease and bike crud on the rag as well as the doctrinal implications.  I feel compelled to add that he was wearing his Superman jammies.

That dude is a sweet, sweet guy.  Literal?  Sure he is.  But sweet.  And to swap scripture on you, I'm certainly the "least of these," so he really nailed that one.

My parents came down this weekend and we had pristine weather to just hang out and talk in the sun.  WITHOUT complaining about it.  Really.  We paraded the children around.  We looked at FLAHurs!

*On the phone later:  "Hey mom, they don't cook 'em like we cook 'em."

No comments: