About the gift of Christmas, the gift of God’s enfleshed self to the world, John said, “I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals.”
It was written in Jewish law that “pupils should do everything that is commanded by their teacher with the exception of unlacing the teacher’s shoes.” The subservient task of kneeling to the ground and unlacing another’s shoe was something only a slave should perform.[i]
This means that John not only regarded himself unworthy to be a disciple of Jesus, John believed he was unworthy to even be a slave of Jesus. When he compared himself to the one wearing the shoes of Christmas, John regarded himself as lower than the lowliest lowly.
And who could blame him? John was talking about God, the Holy Creator of all that is, the Divine One, Love Love’s self who has come down to earth wearing shoes. John was talking about the great sovereign of the universe from on high, miraculously and lovingly stooping low enough to the earth to kneel down to the ground, put on, lace up and wear shoes. John was talking about heavenly feet accustomed to walking on streets where angels trod that have put on earthly shoes in order to walk the same roads each one of us walk.
Although it was John’s plan to make our windy and rocky roads straight and smooth for these holy shoes, the purpose of the divine shoes was to walk every crooked path, experience every twist and turn, identify with every bump, every dip, every rut. The Lord of Hosts stooped down, knelt down, and laced up shoes to walk down snaky roads; travel down uncertain roads; journey down long, lonely, and desolate roads.
God knelt down and put shoes on feet that would grow weary and sore from those roads. God laced up shoes that would cause great suffering when Jesus’ feet would swell, blister and bleed.
Those shoes ran down fearful, foreign roads to escape Herod’s sword. Those shoes would journey down dark, dangerous wilderness roads that try the soul. Those shoes would travel down desperate roads to bring good news to the poor. Those shoes would travel down neglected roads to give dignity to those marginalized by a religion that had been hijacked by greed and privilege. Those shoes would walk roads lined with the hypocritical and judgmental to defend and forgive the sinner. Those shoes would move down roads paved with suffering to heal and restore the sick. They would go down tear-soaked roads to comfort mourners and raise the dead. They would march down fearful roads to stand for justice and to bring peace.
And near the end of his road on this earth, those holy shoes, worn, frayed and tattered by life, would lead him to a table with his friends. After supper, he would get up from that table, take off his outer robe, and tie a towel around himself. He would then pour water into a basin. And like his humble beginning in a lowly manger, he would once again stoop down, kneel to the ground, and lovingly, empathetically and subserviently untie the shoes of each one at that table, even the shoes of the one who would betray him and of the one who would deny ever knowing him.
Now, in the historical and cultural context of the day, the disciples’ shoes would be removed long before they reclined at the table. However, figuratively and theologically speaking, Jesus untied their laces and removed their shoes.[ii]
Relief, respite and release overcame them as they realized that none of their unworthiness prevents their Lord from graciously taking their feet into his hands and washing away all the dirt and grime from every road they had ever traveled. None of their filth is too offensive. There are no stains too deep. The fresh water from the basin that restores, refreshes and relaxes their wearied feet is miraculously transformed into living water that saves their wearied souls. And a holy peace beyond all understanding overwhelmed them.
The good news of Christmas is that the Holy One, whose laces John believed he was unworthy to untie, comes to us, stoops down, kneels before us, and unlaces our shoes, freeing us in the places we have been too tightly bound. He empathetically takes our feet into his hands and washes our dirty, sore and weary feet, and makes us ready for the road again.
That is the good news of Christmas. Now, listen to the good irony of Christmas.
John believed he was unworthy to untie the shoes of Christmas. However, because of the good news of Christmas, John is not only worthy to untie and remove those shoes, John is actually worthy to put on, lace up, and wear those shoes.
Through the gift of Christmas, through the gift of the God who has walked where we walk, through the gift of the Divine who stoops down, unties and removes our shoes, washing our feet and our souls, we are made worthy to not only untie the shoes of Christmas, but to wear the shoes of Christmas. We are worthy to put on Christmas shoes to go where he went, to do as he did, to include as he included, to forgive as he forgave, to love as he loved, to bend ourselves to the ground to touch the places in people that most need touching.
It is believed that fourteenth century saint Teresa of Avila once said:
“Christ has no body but yours, no hands, no feet on earth but yours.
Yours are the eyes with which he looks with compassion on this world, and yours are the feet with which he walks to do good.”
The Apostle Paul has written: “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring the good news” (Romans 10:15).
Don’t worry. It is perfectly natural to feel unworthy to untie those laces, to wear those shoes, to be the hands, the feet, the body of Christ. And if you believe you are unworthy you are in very good company.
Abraham and Sarah did not believe they were young enough to be worthy (Genesis 17:17). Jacob was not truthful enough to be worthy (Genesis 27). Moses was not articulate enough (Exodus 4:10). David was not faithful enough. (2 Samuel 11:2-4). Rahab was not pure enough (Joshua 2:1). Jeremiah was not mature enough (Jeremiah 1:6). Mary was not rich or powerful or old enough (Luke 1).
Yet, God makes the unworthy worthy to be God’s enfleshed presence in this world, to be God’s body, hands, eyes, and feet in this world. As the Apostle Paul reminds each of us:
“Consider your own call, brothers and sisters: not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong” (1 Corinthians 1:26-27).
United Methodist Bishop William Willimon tells a wonderful story about a visit to a fraternity house one night while he was the campus minister at Duke University. The reputations of the fraternity houses at Duke were getting so bad that the University Dean required each fraternity to have a certain number of religious programs each year to give them at least some semblance of respectability.
One of the fraternities invited Willimon to lead one of the programs. He was tocome to the frat-house and give a lecture on “Morality and Character on Campus.”
On the appointed evening, Willimon went to fraternity and knocked on the door. When the door opened, he was greeted by a young boy who appeared to be nine or ten years old. He thought, “What in the world is a little boy like this doing in a frat house at this time of night?”
“They are waiting for you in the common room,” the little boy said politely. Willimon followed the boy back to the common room where all the young men were gathered, glumly waiting for the preacher’s presentation.
Willimon says for about an hour he talked about morality, responsibility, character and faith and how the frat houses on campus gave little evidence of any of those things. When he finished his harsh talk he asked if there were any questions. Of course, they were none. So, he thanked them for inviting him and headed out.
One young man got up and walked him to the door. Before they got to the door, Willimon overhead him say to the little boy, “Hey buddy, you go and get ready for bed. I’ll come up, tuck you in and read you a story in a few minutes.”
When they got outside, the fraternity boy lit a cigarette, took a long drag on it, and thanked the pastor for coming out.
Willimon turned and asked, “Who is that kid in there, and what is he doing here?”
“Oh, that’s Donny,” said the young man. “Our fraternity is part of the Big Brother program in Durham. We met Donny that way. His mom is addicted to drugs and is having a tough time. Sometimes it gets so bad that she can’t care for him. So, we told Donny to call us if he ever needs us. We go over, pick him up, and he stays with us until it is okay to go back home. We take him to school, buy his clothes, books, and stuff like that. Just trying to give him a little bit peace in his life, if you know what I mean.”
The dumbfounded preacher stood there and said: “That’s amazing. You know, I take back everything I said in there about you guys being immoral and irresponsible.”
“I tell you what’s amazing,” said the college boy as he took another drag on his cigarette, “what’s amazing is that God would pick a guy like me to do something this good for somebody else.”[iii]
In other words: “What’s amazing is that God, the Holy Creator of all that is, would make an unworthy guy like me worthy to not only untie, but to wear the shoes of Christmas.”
[i] Alan Culpepper, Smyth and Helwys Commentary: Mark, 2007, p. 47.
[ii] From a sermon by J. Will Ormond entitled Advent on a Shoestring preached during Advent in 1987 at the Columbia Theological Seminary.
[iii] From a sermon by William Willimon in Pulpit Resource, January 2006, p. 19.
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