The Passion According to St. Matthew Part VII
Pilate Washes his Hands
Read Matthew 27:11-26
The gesture of washing one's hands is at the most basic level about cleanliness. Dirt and germs are washed away to purify our state so that we might not contaminate ourselves with some form of filth and compromise our health and the health of others. We have a new and profound understanding of hand-washing in this moment through which we journey. We have been made aware by public health officials during this pandemic that the decision of whether or not to wash our hands could very well be a matter of life and death. Many of us have a more heightened awareness than ever before about the importance of hand-washing. No longer are we mindlessly running our hands under the tap for a second or two. We are now encouraged, even admonished, to wash intentionally with lots of soap and water, paying close care to every part of hands (thumbs included!) for a duration of twenty seconds. We come up with songs that last twenty seconds just to make sure we are doing it right; and if we have any doubt, there are lots of YouTube videos that can instruct us on the proper method.
The last time we paid this much attention to hand-washing and cleansing was after the SARS epidemic. I don't think I think I had ever heard of "Purell" before SARS. Since then, it has become habitual to use it when we are immune-compromised or in settings where we may transmit germs, like hospitals and large gatherings. If we thought we were obsessive about hand cleanliness after SARS, how much more so will we be when this pandemic is over?
This special attention to hand-cleanliness has been spiritualized in some cases. I have taken part in several powerful Maundy Thursday services in which the foot washing ritual has been replaced with a hand-washing ritual. For those who have never participated in such a service, in the normal course of the rite, the priest washes the feet of parishioners as part of the liturgy, following the example of Jesus who washed his disciple's feet in the Gospel of John. It is a reminder to those of us who are priests that our Master was a servant, and that in following him, we too are to be servants of others. The people are then reminded of their own servant ministry and that what has been done for them, they in turn, should do for others. The ritual of hand-washing during the liturgy brings this latter aspect to the fore.
When I first witnessed this liturgical innovation, I thought I would hate it. Yet, time and time again I have found it emotionally powerful. In my own practice, as priest I have started the action washing the first person's hands and then that person washes the next person's hands. I have remained at the basin, holding the towel and assisting where needed, as a reminder of my own servant-ministry. It is so touching to see how people wash each other's hands. I watched a little girl wash her grandfather's hands with tenderness and care. I watched an old doctor wash a young boy's hands with the intentionality and precision that only an old doctor would have. It is powerful to witness a husband wash his wife's hands, or to see two people who have been at odds with each other engage in this healing act of tenderness. In Jesus's time, it was common to wash the feet of one's guests, or have the servants wash them, for the feet were exposed to the elements then much more so than today. When I have done foot-washing as part of the Maundy Thursday rite, there is often a great reluctance for people to come forward. People are shy about their feet. The symbol is not as culturally resonant as it once was. When we wash hands, all come forward. This was especially powerful after the SARS outbreak because we had become so afraid of what we might do to someone if we touched them. Yet, we all participated in this beautiful act of service that was truly needed. The washing of hands is more culturally relevant today than the washing of feet, and just at the moment when our intimacy was breaking down through fear, we re-engaged using a powerful, resonant ritual symbol to restore that intimacy.
This year, there will be no foot-washing or hand-washing liturgies in the church, although those who have been together in self-isolation at home may wish to engage in just such a ritual act to remind ourselves of the communion of servant-hood we all share. One day this isolation will come to an end and we shall be able to be together again. I suspect, though, that as with the outcome of the SARS epidemic, we will again have a heightened awareness and fear about touch. I do think that while we should always be mindful and careful (and follow public health guidelines) I don't believe we should let our fear destroy our intimacy.
And what of Pilate? It was fear that destroyed him - fear of a riot, fear of a prophetic dream that his wife had. The ancient Jewish writer Philo tells us that Pilate only backed down on some of his other leadership errors (there were other pretty serious ones!) when he thought a delegation might go to Rome and rat him out. Fear is often what drives us. We have seen the disciples scatter out of fear. We have seen the high priests and the scribes and Pharisees seek the death of Jesus out of fear. The crowds demand blood out of fear. Fear easily grips us. Fear leads us to make awful decisions that often harm others. Fear leads to scapegoating. This is what Pilate does. He passes along the guilt of his decision to others when he washes his hands of Jesus and the whole matter: "I am innocent of this man's blood!" But is he innocent?
Jesus is the ultimate scape-goat victim. Perhaps like Judas, though, there is hope for wicked Pilate, just like there might be for the disciples (who cried, "surely, not I, Lord!" and then abandoned him); jut like there might be for Peter, who denied him; just like there might be for the religious authorities who sought his life. Surely there is hope for us, as well. Each and every one of us have committed the sin of scapegoating at some point or another, and it has probably been out of fear. It is a human instinct to shame and blame. It is the ultimate scar upon community and intimacy. As we have seen, though, Jesus died for the forgiveness of sin. This one is included.
To return to the image of the washing of hands: hands can be used for prayer, hands can be used for healing, hands can be used for loving, but hands can also be used to hurt and harm, and to hand away our responsibility. How we use them, and how we use them with each other may very well be a window into our souls.
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Fr. Dan