The Dust and the Bowl (Lent Poems 4)

This one follows the story from Tuesday’s post. The story goes on to tell of Jesus sharing the Passover meal with his friends, and arriving at the dining room to find an awkward social faux pas has been committed.

The Dust and the Bowl
All things under him,
He looked:
The room prepared,
The table all laid out,
But the bowl for our feet,
Awkwardly,
Not there.
All things under him,
He rose,
Took the towel –
The uniform of one much lower –
Wrapped it around his waist,
And filled the bowl left,
Embarrassingly,
Empty.
All things under him,
He came,
To me, as to the others,
Gestured
Towards my feet
As if to wash them, and
I rose,
Uncomfortably,
Protested:
No, my lord, you shall not wash
My feet. I should
Be the one who washes you!
But then a flash – a moment in
My memory – some water and
A ragged man up to his waist:
No, my lord, you should be
The one baptising me!
The answer then, as now,
The same, that way he had
Of shaking all
Our expectations,
Showing, shaking all the muck
That lay inside our muted pride,
Displaying it, for grace to see.
And so he knelt,
All things under him,
And washed
My soiled feet
And with them all
The dust of my misplaced pride.

2 thoughts on “The Dust and the Bowl (Lent Poems 4)

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