The laundry at Manna House reveals the cost of being on the streets. First, there is the smell. In the heat wave of the past month the pungency of sweat that emanated from the dirty laundry containers was especially strong.  But there is never a laundry day without that smell. Showers are few and far between, and guests from the streets can go for days or even weeks without a change of clothes. 

On a regular basis, there is also the smell of shit and urine. Some of our guests are incontinent. None of our guests have easy access to bathrooms at any time. 

Then there is the smell from the shoes. The soles are worn so far down that the midsole is showing. And the rank odor from within testifies to the unwashed feet that walk five or more miles each day. Where do you go when you have nowhere to go? You just have to keep moving or get moved along by the police.

            Beyond the smells, as I sort laundry, I have to decide what can be laundered and what items are so dirty or torn or worn out that they have to be thrown away. Shirts are stained with dirt, paint from odd jobs, spills from food hastily eaten, blood from the violence that confronts people on the streets. Socks take on the reds and browns of dirt in Memphis. Sometimes even a towel needs to be discarded, too worn from repeated washings, or too discolored by repeated bleaching.

            To offer hospitality requires doing the laundry. For every day we are open there are at least six loads to get washed and dried. Our two washing machines and two dryers get heavy use. A large part of the hospitality we share means offering ways to get clean and to change clothes.

            I can approach this work of laundry either as a drudgery or as a spiritual discipline. It is a choice I have to make. Laundry as a burden, a thing to get done, or laundry as a way I am graced to participate in the work of Jesus who offered hospitality. When I enter the laundry room to sort dirty clothes or to fold clean clothes, I have to pause, say a prayer, and find a connection with Jesus. 

            So, I was happy today to find such a connection in John’s Gospel: “So, Jesus got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him” (John 13:4-5).

            This hospitality work of washing feet with a towel wrapped around his waist was the work of a servant. Jesus makes this point when he says after washing his disciples’ feet, “Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you” (John 13:12-14).

            I have no doubt that the disciples’ feet were as pungent as the feet of our guests at Manna House. I have no doubt that the towel Jesus used was greatly soiled by the time he was done. That towel needed to be put in the laundry. I pray to have no doubt that when I do the laundry of our guests at Manna House, I am meeting Jesus. I pray that the laundry serves as a sacrament, that this outward sign opens me to an inward grace. In that grace, I hope the dirty laundry of my life gets a thorough washing as well.