He Touched Me
by Mary Fisher, OP

It's been more than a month since the experience, yet the memory is still fresh, slipping quietly between the concerns of ordinary life like a sweet, familiar melody drifting through my day, bringing me comfort.

It was Holy Thursday.  I had volunteered to be one of the participants in the washing-of-the-feet ceremony.  At the proper time, therefore, I walked up the few altar steps, sat on the bench, and waited.

Father Paul Colloton, OP, was the presider that evening.  Paul and I have been friends for more than a decade, but neither one of us had ever had occasion to talk about our feet, so I presumed he would be unpleasantly surprised when he saw them for the first time.  They are not  pretty.  I have had five separate surgeries on my feet, along with fractured bones and misshapen, arthritic toes.  As I removed my shoes,  I smiled at Paul in rueful regret, in embarrassed apology.

But I was the one to be surprised - and stirred.  Kneeling before me, Paul  took my foot in his hands and did more than wash it:  he caressed, anointed, and blessed it.  I watched, breathless, as he touched my deformed foot with such tenderness  that  I felt a lump form in my throat.  As his hand lightly glided over a particularly red, swollen part, he looked up at me, his eyes asking, "Does that hurt?" My slight nod called forth still more gentleness;  his sensitivity and compassion touched my heart as he lovingly cared for my right foot.

Then he repeated the warm and careful kindness with the left one.  As  Paul ministered to me, in imagination I saw Christ kneeling there in his place.  It was Christ Who touched me in such loving kindheartedness; it was He Who washed, anointed, blessed - not just my feet, but my heart  and spirit
--- healing old hurts, disappointments, regrets. . . .

Eyes filled with tears of gratitude and awe, I rose from the stool with difficulty, helped by Christ/Paul, and returned to my former place.

The inexpressible, haunting memory of that experience has elevated my spirit and filled it with grateful song. I hope I will remember it as long as I live:  the time I felt that Christ touched me.