Part of the Easter story is about feet. Not the most elegant part of the human physique, and yet it is what the body rests on. Jesus spent three years teaching, and healing the multitudes, and at the very end he ate dinner with the disciples. Twelve close companions, who struggled to understand Him. The final supper was more about showing them how to love one another, than what to explain to them. 

Jesus took off his garment and wrapped himself with a towel. He invited them to have him wash their feet, which is a vulnerable gesture. I felt that intimacy in the service I attended this week, the Maundy Thursday reenactment of both the Last Supper and Jesus's willingness to submit as a servant. 

Letting someone wash your feet means opening yourself to embarrassment. Some of my toes are misshapen, and ugly. Enough that a sewing student once asked me why they looked that way. I didn't really know, but I made sure to wear socks after that. 

Yet the woman at church who gently washed them, and dried them with a soft towel did not seem to notice. Being accepted when we feel deserving is nice. But being cared for when we feel unworthy is a whole different level of wonder. 

Maybe letting ourselves be vulnerable is a way to change our relationship with God.