Jesus’ Feet: A Triduum Meditation

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For Christmas, I bought myself the new Ignatius Catholic Study Bible, and ever since New Year’s, I have been reading a page or so a day, beginning with the Gospels. Right before the start of Lent, I came to a verse at the end of Matthew that I had never noticed before:

“So, they departed quickly from the tomb with great joy and ran to tell his disciples. And behold, Jesus met them and said, ‘Hail!’ And they came up and took hold of his feet and worshiped him” (Matthew 28:8-9).

I knew about Thomas touching Jesus’ side, but what would holding Jesus' newly resurrected feet be like?

Then Lent began, and Archbishop Aquila published his pastoral note, Standing with Mary at the Foot of the Cross. This note reflects on the seven last words of Jesus, and I found myself deeply moved by the third meditation: “Today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:43)

Archbishop Aquila writes, “There is quite a contrast between the thief, whose crimes merited the punishment of death, and the Immaculate Virgin, who has never once stepped outside of the full grace of God. Yet, Mary does not resent the reward promised to the thief by her son; she rejoices in it.”

As a woman and a mother, I imagine myself in Mary’s shoes, hearing that a criminal will experience the full promise of heaven before me, his mother. As a sinful human, I am tempted toward envy or resentment. But Mary, at the feet of Jesus, rejoices full of hope because, as Archbishop Aquila wrote in his pastoral note, “there is nothing Mary wanted more in that moment than the will of the Father to be accomplished for the thief and for herself.”

Inspired by Mary’s complete trust in God, I began staring at Jesus’ feet whenever I was at Mass.

In our parish, the feet on the crucifix are carved so deeply that each toe stands out as if to signify the pain they were in. After years of not noticing them, I am drawn each week to consider touching, kissing or worshiping those feet.

In fact, that is what we do every year in our Good Friday service: we line up to kiss the feet (or the wood) of the Crucifix. As we enter into the most sacred season of the year, I invite you to a Triduum meditation on the feet of Jesus:

Mary was likely lying down in bed when she felt Jesus' feet press into her stomach for the first time. She would have gotten used to these kicks until the day his feet touched the hay of the manger. These feet grew in the hiddenness of her womb and then in the hiddenness of Nazareth as they learned to walk, run and stand for prayer.

These feet were baptized in the Jordan River by John, who declared he was unworthy even to untie Jesus’ sandals.

“How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good tidings,” declares Isaiah 52:7, of the feet that walked all over Galilee and Judea, proclaiming the Kingdom of God.

Mary of Bethany sits at Jesus' feet, soaking up every word, allowing the Spirit to pierce her heart. The Spirit moves Mary to wash Jesus’ feet with tears, anoint them with oil and dry them with her hair. With what tenderness did Jesus look upon her, receiving her gift of repentance?

Later, these feet walk the way of the Cross. After years of traveling around, they are strong but tired after a lack of sleep and the pain of the scourging. Jesus’ feet stumble and fall not once but thrice as Christ makes his way to the Mount of Calvary. As his feet are pierced with a nail, his toes curl with pain, and all he thinks of is you and me and how we would be with him in paradise. The cross is raised high, and the pressure builds in his feet. The only way he can breathe is to lift his weight up by his feet, and the nail digs in deeper.

As the blood drips down, catching on the hairs of his toes, Mary looks up. Her heart is wrenched apart like a mother who can’t prevent her child’s pain. She looks at the feet, remembering the kicks, the toddling and the miracles. She would give anything to hold them right now.

But she trusts in the will of the Father and waits on God’s timing. If the thief will be in paradise today, her time will come.

As they take Jesus off the cross, Mary holds him in her arms once more. His feet, bloody and lifeless, hang off to the side of her lap.

Then, they are wrapped and hidden away in the tomb, as they were once hidden in her womb.

On the day of Resurrection, those feet touch the earth once more. Full of life, they still bear the wound from the nail, for now our sufferings become the source of our sanctification.

As his disciples gather round, they touch the flesh of his feet and worship the God-made-man. To grasp Jesus’ feet is to hold on to the promise of the Resurrection. To trust like Mary means following with our own feet wherever he leads, for his word is a lamp unto our feet and a light to our path (Psalm 119:105).

He is our hope, our joy, our salvation — and as we hold on to his feet in prayer and receive his body in the Eucharist, we are sustained in our journey until the day that we can say, “He made my feet like deer’s feet, and set me secure on the heights” (Psalm 18:33).