During the Last Supper, Jesus stood up, took a basin, a towel, and a pitcher of water, and began to wash the feet of His disciples. “Big bosses” never allow themselves to stoop that low. From a social standpoint, such behavior was unthinkable — a leader or religious teacher was expected to show his superiority, not humility. But Jesus flipped that idea upside down. The synoptic Gospels — probably not wanting to make Jesus appear “too human” — skip this scene altogether; only John records it.
When Jesus came to Peter, who was first in line, an interesting conversation took place:
“He came to Simon Peter, and Peter said to Him, ‘Lord, are You going to wash my feet?’
Jesus replied, ‘You don’t understand now what I’m doing, but later you will.’
Peter said, ‘No way, You shall never wash my feet!’
Jesus answered, ‘Unless I wash you, you have no share with Me.’
Then Peter said, ‘Lord, not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!’
Jesus replied, ‘A person who has had a bath needs only to wash his feet; his whole body is clean.’”
Peter couldn’t wrap his head around why Jesus would humble Himself in front of everyone — including him. At first he refused, but when Jesus warned him about the consequences, Peter gave in and, in his usual impulsive way, asked to be washed from head to toe. Jesus declined. Ironically, right there at that same table, the apostles had been arguing about who among them was the greatest! The act of foot washing — something done only by servants — was Jesus’ direct response to that prideful mindset. He had been teaching humility long before the Last Supper, but even after years with Him, His disciples still didn’t get the point.
After washing their feet and returning to His place, Jesus said:
“Do you understand what I have done for you? You call Me Teacher and Lord, and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I’ve set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him.”
Jesus humbled Himself not for the sake of a symbolic gesture but to make a point that hit home: “A messenger is not greater than the one who sent him.” In other words, if the apostles refused to follow this example, they were no longer worthy of being apostles. From that moment on, Jesus expected them to deliberately humble themselves before others. That was the shocking lesson He wanted them to remember. Yet even today, this command — whether openly or quietly — is broken in nearly every church and denomination. People still find it incredibly hard to live by it.
Given this, we can make a fair assumption about the Kingdom of Heaven: the “highest-ranking” person there will likely be the kindest, warmest, and most caring. Which raises an interesting question — can someone be saved if they are unwilling or unable to humble themselves before others?
Modern Christianity tends to teach that salvation comes by faith alone — through Christ’s merit. But what happens if a proud believer, full of arrogance yet sincerely trusting in Jesus’ sacrifice, gets into heaven? Will God instantly remake that person? Or is it simply impossible for an arrogant soul to enter at all? If pride and other vices are supposedly erased or ignored by God, then what’s the point of Jesus’ commandments in the first place?
Let’s look at this story from another angle. From a modern psychological perspective, Jesus’ message makes perfect sense and offers real benefits to anyone who practices it. When Jesus calls us to humble ourselves (“whoever wants to be great must become a servant”), He isn’t promoting self-degradation or loss of dignity. Psychologists would say His words touch on several deep truths:
* Mastering pride: Pride and inflated ego create inner tension, constant competition, and comparison. When a person “humbles themselves” in the Christian sense, they step off that treadmill — freeing their mind from jealousy and aggression. Ego always craves validation, power, and control. To “lower yourself” means to consciously put others’ worth above your own. It releases you from the exhausting struggle to prove your value. When your self-worth isn’t dictated by others’ opinions, anxiety fades.
* The paradox of strength: A humble person becomes psychologically resilient — harder to offend, manipulate, or throw off balance. This isn’t weakness; it’s inner strength in disguise. “The meek shall inherit the earth.”
* Taking off the mask: People often wear the mask of strength, success, or righteousness. True humility means daring to be real — admitting your flaws, mistakes, and vulnerability. In psychological terms, that’s authenticity — the foundation of healthy relationships. Isn’t that the kind of genuine connection we’re all searching for, even in the church?
Put simply, to “lower yourself” in the Gospel sense means quieting the noisy voice of the ego so you can hear something greater — God, love, and true human connection. In psychology, that’s close to mindfulness, acceptance, and altruism.
Could the apostles in the first century have understood all these layers? Probably not. So Jesus just knelt, washed their feet, and said, “Do the same.” His commandments weren’t meant to weigh people down, but to lift them — to help them grow toward perfection, toward God, and ultimately toward eternal life.
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