Clean Feet

My feet have been washed.  Not for the first time, of course, even though it doesn't occur as often as it probably should, but this was the first time by a priest.  For Holy Thursday Mass, Gary and I were among the twelve apostles.  Back home, the people selected to have their feet washed come up front at a certain time during the service, take off their shoes, and the priest goes down the line.  Here, the apostles wear a cassock and sit up by the priest for the entire mass all the while without wearing shoes.  Although, none of twelve or so alter servers they usually have ever wear shoes anyways so it was only a big deal for me.  Luckily, I was on the starting end because by the time the water and towel made it down to Gary on the other end it wasn't looking too pretty.  I think the priests in countries like this have a little more difficult job washing feet.  Being Apostles for Holy Thursday also means participating in the Way of the Cross on Good Friday.  This involved carrying the cross before it was given to the man playing Jesus, following along the way as he carried it through town, and then carrying the cross to the remaining stations after Jesus was nailed to it.  They just tied him on and we hosted it on our shoulders.  It was kind of tricky for us, but it must have been really uncomfortable for Jesus, who is also our plumber by the way.