also ought to wash one another's

My father is 71 and has congestive heart failure. In addition to battling his age and failing ticker, every few months his gout acts up and causes his feet to swell painfully. The past two days, my mother has called me to come over and massage some medicine into the skin of his feet because my hands are stronger than hers.

Background: I hate feet. I think they're ugly. Touching another's feet ranks on my list of favorite things to do higher than walking on hot coals, but below getting slapped in the face.

Massaging my father's feet was a special experience, though. The only reason for the call on the second day was because after the first day, the pain and swelling had gone down significantly as if I were some miracle worker rather than a passable masseuse. But even had I not received the second call, I might have volunteered regardless, the first day was such an experience.

Before the Last Supper, Christ washes the feet of His disciples and then lectures them on servant leadership. It is easy to think of this servant leadership as merely a model of humility, and such it is. But it is more than simply a lesson for CEOs of manufacturing firms to spend a few minutes greasy at the assembly line.

I picture Christ washing the feet of His disciples not just as an act of humility, but also as one of love. A few hours hence, He knew where He'd be: before kangaroo courts hastening His hour. And after four years of ministry with these friends of His, how could His last act of service not have been done lovingly? And perhaps that was His greater lesson -- not just that humility was a virtue of the highest order, not only that true leaders serve their servants, but also that true leaders do that service in great love, treating even the lowliest as having the same fundamental worth that all the earth has before Almighty God.