Photos by Josh Meltzer | The Roanoke Times

Sara Porter washes the feet of her husband, Fred. Foot washing is considered a special, optional feature of the Easter season.

At Central Church of the Brethren, Richard Gottshall reads from chapter 13 in the Gospel of John, where the foot-washing ritual is rooted.

Dale Jamison (left) and Tony Walker embrace after washing each other's feet on Maundy Thursday, a Holy Week celebration.

Water and the word mingled at Central Church of the Brethren in Roanoke on Thursday night in perhaps the most humbling of all Christian customs: the annual foot-washing service.

About 40 parishioners assembled for this Holy Week tradition that recalls when Jesus stooped to bathe the feet of his disciples at the Last Supper.

"I was apprehensive," said Whitney Puckett, 27, attending Central Church of the Brethren at a friend's invitation for the first time and experiencing her initial foot-washing service. "I was more self-conscious when someone else was washing my feet than when I washed theirs. But it was sweet."

The practice can be an icebreaker for those in search of fellowship. When Wayne Chapman was in Richmond on business a few years ago on the evening of foot washing in his Roanoke congregation, he located a church there that was holding such a service. "Everyone was so welcoming. I didn't feel that I was among strangers," he said.

Foot washing is a niche in the liturgical year for some Christian denominations. Considered a special, optional feature of the Easter season, foot washing is practiced infrequently among Roman Catholics, the Eastern Orthodox Church and many Protestants.

Foot-freshening fetes are usually reserved for Holy Thursday, also known as Maundy Thursday, taking its name from the Latin word "mandatum," or commandment. In the Gospel of John, chapter 13, Jesus says, "If I then, your lord and master, have washed your feet, ye also ought to wash one another's feet."

The Rev. Tim Harvey, pastor at Central Church of the Brethren, makes some accommodations for the comfort of parishioners. Although he sets up two circles of 12 folding chairs for communal washing where anyone may participate, he also sets aside designated areas for couples and others for men or women only. For those more inhibited, there's a table where they may wash each other's hands, and a half-dozen in Harvey's flock choose that option.

A lesser-known liturgy at some churches during Holy Week is Tenebrae, Latin for "shadows," known as the "Service of Darkness." About 70 members of South Roanoke United Methodist Church gathered Thursday night for Tenebrae, which commemorates the suffering of Jesus during his crucifixion. The dark service is a somber affair in which candles are extinguished, a funeral-like atmosphere prevails and the finale is sometimes marked by loud special effects --such as the slamming of hymnals -- to recall the biblical description of a rumbling earthquake in the area around Jesus' cross following his death and the closing of his tomb.

Tenebrae can be a bit scary for young children, acknowledged the Rev. William Davidson, pastor of South Roanoke Methodist, and some churches caution parents about bringing them.

"It's part of Holy Week that many of our members look forward to -- but not necessarily enjoy," Davidson said.

In contrast, foot washing is frightening only to those afraid to show their feet. Rooted in the Gospel of John, the ceremony reprises the hospitality of Jesus' time, when guests in private homes sometimes had their feet washed by servants -- dirty work in an era when the standard footwear was sandals. At the Last Supper, according to Scripture, Jesus shocked his 12 disciples in the middle of the meal by kneeling before them with a bowl of water and a towel. Some protested that Jesus shouldn't humble himself, but as the story goes, he said that was exactly the point.

"One of the things we are asked to do as Christians is to be more like Jesus. Washing someone's feet, as I picture him doing it, brings me closer to him spiritually," said Milt Danner, a member at Church of the Holy Spirit in Southwest Roanoke County, which also held a foot-washing service Thursday night. "But I feel having your feet washed can be an even more humbling and spiritual experience."

At Church of the Holy Spirit, foot-washing services began as a Sunday school practice in the mid-1980s, said the Rev. Quigg Lawrence. And the observance isn't embraced by everyone, he acknowledges. "People may have different issues, bunions or whatever."

Even if their feet are pedicure-perfect, many churchgoers aren't comfortable with foot washing, Lawrence said. "I think a lot of Americans have a kind of phobia about feet. In India or Africa, going barefoot is common, so the foot isn't a real modest part of the body. But in this country the feet are more intimate and private because they're usually covered up."

Yet that discomfort may add to the modern symbolism of foot washing at church, said Gerald McDermott, professor of religion at Roanoke College. "Now it is more of a symbol of humility, since many don't like to show their feet."

And one part of such services that's rarely authentic is the actual need for foot washing. "Everyone's feet are always already clean," Lawrence said.

McDermott said, "In the first century, people didn't have the luxury of being able to wash their feet before entering every home, so foot washing was a genuine service."

Still the rite is meaningful to Danner: "I am sure some people would never show up without having clean feet, that's their personal choice. I feel sure Jesus would not care one way or the other. He would not want that to be an obstacle to their spending this special time with him."

For Puckett another concern proved unfounded: "The water wasn't cold at all."