Tuesday, April 5, 2011

The Supplication of My Blessing

A gift equal to our stature… .His own body and blood….
  The husbandry of God is founded in its entirety upon the presentation of Himself in humility before us because it is equal to the very quality with which He has made us.  Berakah.  Although we were alienated, although degraded by our interlude with the ba’als, Jesus made a statement about our humanity that would transform us for eternity: Your Life is worth My Life.
He came with no personal demands; no degrading lordship conjuring shame.  He was a Husband who laid His life down.  He came imploring, bending, bowing, begging and dying.  This vassal of the Most High honored our high position, presenting us with the gift of Himself as an eternal statement of our value in reciprocal hope of our faith.  A servant came to intercept servants on severely equal terms.  The Son of God was bowing before us.  Pleading.  Imploring.  Supplicating with His berakah… .His blessing.
Piety?  Do I detect religious piety?  An arm of protest, a flash of indignant color, a preposterous glare, a “humble” proclamation of one’s lowly humanity and a “righteous” indication of the god’s superiority?  “No” cries the pious, “You shall never wash my feet,” John 13:8.  “Jesus answered him, ‘If I do not wash you, you have no share in me’.”  There is no humility in the disciple; no righteousness when assuming states of inferiority and superiority.  Berekah.  Reciprocity.  Life of Life.  Love for Love.  Great exchanges of mutuality.  Two people washing feet… .Who is the greatest among them?  I do not know.  No one knows.  No one can tell.  It can not be observed.  There are just two people washing.
What is the nature of this washing?  This is not the washing of renewal.  Not of new birth or baptism.  This is not the cleansing from past lifestyles of sin.  This is not a swirling bathtub, a deep pool.  This is not immersion.  This is only my feet set in tepid water experiencing a consistent love song.  My feet.  Who dares to wash feet?!  Sore, reeking, begrimed.  Who dares even to touch them?  They are not the soul of me.  They are not the essence of chosen places.  They are the extension that has walked in and out and back and forth to places desirable and undesirable and they have gathered the shards and grains of wanted and unwanted things.  My feet tell the story of my labor.  And there He kneels honoring me… .honoring the day’s worth of my labor. “…all your breakers and waves have gone over me,” Psalm 42:7.  Blessing my humanity.  “…and at night his song is with me,” Psalm 42: 8.  Imploring my heart to return to the sight and sound of all these  spousal benefits. “…who forgives… .who heals… .who redeems… .who crowns… .who satisfies,” Psalm 103:3-5.
You are home my love.  Bring your heart home my love, He implores.  How can I enjoy you until today’s past has been lathered away?  I will bless you back into our communion…. .Life for Life.  Love for Love.  I supplicate you with the blessing of My servitude.

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