Easter approaches, preceded by Holy Week—especially the Sacred Triduum with its holy rituals that lead every Christian by the hand toward Resurrection.
I think of Easter 2020, when Covid forced the closure of everything, including our churches. No one could gather to celebrate. Locked at home, those who wanted to could watch on television—though even that was hastily arranged. I remember the sadness I felt, and how deeply I longed to celebrate in church: the blessing of palms, the foot-washing, the Stations of the Cross, the Passion, the Easter vigil. It left a void.
But I also remember a thought that stayed with me: this was a time to rediscover the beauty of the domestic church—the family. Then and now, I live with my brother and sister, both in wheelchairs. This is my domestic church, where faith is lived through action—where caring for fragile people is strengthened by faith.
That Holy Week, I decided to reflect on certain gestures we perform each year to remember the Lord's gift. I felt called to live out the foot-washing with my siblings. Even thinking of that moment moves me deeply. To stand before their wheelchairs, to bow before them, to take Giorgio and Cristina's feet—my brother and sister—and wash them while holding Christ's image in mind. It was a great gift the Lord has left us, just as it is a great gift to be able to do it every day. I chose one particular day, Holy Thursday, to give that day its true weight, to commemorate the act of love Jesus performed.
Now, looking back, I think of countless parents—especially mothers—who, with care and love, wash the feet of their disabled children 365 days a year, quietly, unseen within their homes, in the family as "domestic church." And brothers and sisters who do the same. They too participate in the Lord's gift of love. Jesus ended his foot-washing at the Last Supper with these words: "If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet."
Our family members with disabilities are unlikely to be chosen for the foot-washing ceremony on Holy Thursday in our parishes (I remember such discussions in my own parish about whom to involve in that moment). But we parents, brothers, and sisters hold a privilege: we wash feet always, in memory of that first washing Jesus performed at the table. We will receive his reward.
It is Jesus in us who sustains us as we care for fragile people. And it is Jesus himself in them who asks to be cared for and served.