After Jesus rode into town on a donkey, Luke tells us the disciples argued about who was the greatest at this dinner. Despite all the ways Jesus had flatly rejected the praise of the crowds, his disciples were jockeying for status. All day, they've walked through streets caked in dirt mixed with animal and human refuse. Their unwashed feet stink up the room. Picking up a basin and using a towel to clean these calloused feet was an unpleasant job, always relegated to the lowest-status servants. Then the GOAT stands up. His love is full and faithful. He is God, is sent by God, and is returning to God. He owns everything and lacks nothing. So, he strips down to his undergarments, ties the cleaning towel around his waist, pours water into a basin, and kneels before his disciples. One by one, he tenderly washes them clean and dries their feet. In all likelihood, the room was uncomfortably silent. Peter is the only one who can speak, and his Greek is fractured. Lord, you? Me? Wash? All of his categories are inverted and collapsed. If I had ever dined with Queen Elizabeth, and she had offered to wash my feet at a state dinner, I would not have been able to accept. I would feel alternately humiliated that she felt my feet needed washing and simultaneously obligated to wash her feet, which would seem like an equally impossible occurrence. If she had insisted or threatened to deport me from her country, I would have endured the experience in shock. Peter is freaking out. Jesus puts him at ease: you're good. Meanwhile, Judas sat still. He'd already decided that Jesus was someone to profit from, not follow into the dirt. Peter knew he was undeserving; Judas was too entitled to care. I remember setting up the chairs before a large event at Rhodes College. A pastor came in and saw what I was doing. He chastised me, "If you're setting up the chairs, you'll never have the time to lead." I felt like a failure. I was such a bad leader that I hadn't recruited any students to do the grunt work. I've heard this passage taught like a burden: "Jesus served, so you should too! Cleaning feet is awful, but Jesus loves it when you're miserable." It's how it sounds when we teach the message with unwashed feet. Judas got his silver. But everyone else became the kind of people who sold their possessions and distributed the proceeds to anyone in need (see Acts 2:44-45). Jesus isn't adding 'serve more' to our to-do lists. He's loving us until the fear of being diminished goes away. His grace reworks our motivations so that serving becomes our joy. He didn't just forgive them, he made them the kind of people who were blessed to be like him.