Many theologians who argue for footwashing as an occasional sacrament begin with the simple but weighty fact that Jesus explicitly commands it in John 13. Unlike many symbolic actions in the Gospels, this one comes with a direct imperative: “You also ought to wash one another’s feet.” That dominical command gives the practice a sacramental gravity that exceeds ordinary liturgical gestures, even if it does not rise to the universal normativity of Baptism and Eucharist.
It is a ritual of mutual vulnerability, reversal of status, and the restoration of dignity to the overlooked. It does not merely illustrate humility or reconciliation; it performs them. The washing of feet creates a moment of embodied belonging that words alone cannot achieve, and this performative quality strengthens the case for treating it as sacramental in character.
Its occasional nature is part of its power. Footwashing is most potent when a community is fractured, when a new ministry begins, when reconciliation is needed, or when a parish must remember the heart of discipleship. Like anointing, it gains sacramental force precisely because it is not routine. It appears at moments of need, not as a weekly obligation but as a timely, grace‑bearing act.
This poem sums up that position and was also inspired by foot washing at St Martin's Church Jersey.
The Last Sacrament
He kneels down, the servant king,
As angelic choirs softly sing;
With basin full, the water clean,
We know so well this loving scene;
The water gently poured and flowed
On the feet so dusty, worn on road,
And washed so kindly, so much love,
As Spirit descending like a dove;
A new commandment, love to you
Shown in sacrament, so we knew:
No pride, no ruler come with might,
Just the washing feet reveals sight,
Of gently washing, servant king,
As angelic choirs softly sing.
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