Random acts of humility and service

One of the most memorable Holy Week church services I ever attended was a few years back on Maundy Thursday.

Instead of eating a Seder dinner that year, we took turns humbling ourselves as Jesus did by washing each other's feet. I still remember carefully pouring water on my Christian brother Leo's feet, rubbing them gently and patting them dry with a clean towel. (I don't remember who drew the short straw and had to wash my feet that night. I hope it wasn't too memorable in the wrong way for them!)

I remember this, of course, because washing another person's feet isn't something we do on a regular basis (thank goodness, right?). But as I reflect on it now, I can't help but think it really wasn't that big of an act of humility. After all, these were people we saw every week; people we knew pretty well, and certainly not complete strangers.

I also remember the first time I woke up early one Sunday morning several years ago and made the pre-dawn trek to the COMEA House, the local homeless shelter, to serve breakfast to the residents there. To me, giving up my sleep time to help cook and serve a hot meal to people not as fortunate as I am wasn't much of a sacrifice (though I probably made more than one comment about it being very early for a weekend morning).

But getting my food, sitting down and striking up a conversation with someone who was homeless was an entirely different matter.

It wasn't challenging because I thought I was better than them somehow. Life simply dealt me a different hand than it dealt them. But what do you say to someone who has no permanent address?

"What happened?"

"How did you come to be here?"

"How's the job search going?"

I settled on "Where are you from?" and let the conversation go from there. The meal was filled with several uncomfortable silences as neither of us knew what to say. But I came away from the experience with not only a reminder of how blessed I am to have a job, a family, a roof over my head and food on my table, but a reminder that I need to more often practice random acts of humility and service.

It's awfully easy as Americans to get comfortable in our circumstances and then start wishing we had even more. Car getting a few miles on it? Must be time for a new one. Don't feel like watching any of the 200 DVDs on the shelf? Run to the store and buy something new. Neighbor have a bigger TV or a better surround-sound system? Get the credit card out and buy something even better.

Yet Jesus' lesson for all of us following the Passover meal with his disciples was that no matter our social status, we must humble ourselves and serve others to enter God's kingdom. None of us is above serving others, not even the Son of God.

It's a lesson I carry with me, thanks to COMEA breakfasts, Family Promise overnights and youth group work days at the Wyoming Coalition for the Homeless. Yet I have to blow the cobwebs off of it from time to time because, I'll admit, I allow myself to get caught up in my own creature comforts way more than I should.

So I'll end by issuing this challenge to myself and all of you: Look around for ways to practice random acts of humility and service. Step outside your comfort zone and reach out to someone you wouldn't normally interact with. And remember: Even Jesus washed someone else's dirty feet.