It was just before the Passover Festival, John writes, and Jesus, knowing that His hour had come, having loved His own who were in the world, He loved them to the end.

Then God incarnate takes off His outer clothing, wraps a towel around His waist, and washes feet, including the feet of the man leaving to betray Him. Let today's reading wash yours.

John frames the foot-washing with a stunning ledger: Jesus knew He had all things, knew where He came from and where He was going, and therefore took the towel. Only settled identity can serve that low. Insecure power grasps; the Son of God scrubs between toes, Judas's included, loving His own to the end.

The example is assigned, not admired: you also should wash one another's feet. Somewhere near you is a basin-shaped task, unglamorous, beneath your title, exactly the right size for love. Take the towel today. And when your own feet feel too dirty for Him, hear Peter's correction: being washed by Jesus is not optional; it is the whole point.