Being Remarkable

Many mornings, I begin my day in the company of some remarkable people. I’m not sure what makes them remarkable. It’s certainly not their backgrounds. Everyone comes from a different place and none of those places are remarkable. It’s certainly not their experiences because many of them have lived remarkable lives for all the wrong reasons. Maybe it’s the fact that these folks see their imperfections and are willing to talk about them, but I think what makes the remarkable is something else.

On the wall, across where I sit, is a print of a Rembrandt painting of Jesus. It’s one of those paintings where the subject looks at you regardless of where you’re sitting. The eyes are not eyes of judgement, they’re more searching, more understanding, and whenever I look up at the painting, particularly when people are sharing some of the hard stuff, Christ seems to be listening with the kind of understanding for which most of us can only pray.  

Today, because it’s Maundy Thursday, I imagine Christ leaving the confines of the frame and sitting among us. At one point, He stands and goes into the kitchen, fills a bowl of water, and grabs a roll of paper towels. When he returns, he slowly and deliberately works his way around the circle. Taking off our sneakers and sandals, he begins to wash our feet. He doesn’t look up from his work except when someone shares something particularly real. When that happens, he looks up as if to say, “I get it.” 

It is then I realize what makes this group remarkable. It’s not the people sitting in the circle. It’s the one kneeling at their feet.