Pope, looking strong, washes feet of 12 women at Rome prison from his wheelchair

ROME (AP) — Pope Francis washed and kissed the feet of 12 women inmates at a Rome prison during a Holy Thursday ritual meant to emphasize his vocation of service and humility.

The 87-year-old Francis performed the ritual from his wheelchair, after recent ailments have compounded his mobility problems. The Rebibbia prison venue was outfitted to accommodate his needs: The women sat on stools on a raised-up platform, enabling the pope to move down the line with ease from his wheelchair without having to strain himself.

Many of the women wept as Francis washed their feet, gently pouring water over one bared foot and patting it dry with a small towel. He finished the gesture by kissing each foot, often looking up to the woman with a smile.

The Holy Thursday foot-washing ceremony is a hallmark of every Holy Week and recalls the foot-washing Jesus performed on his 12 apostles at their last supper together before he was crucified.

Francis revolutionized the ritual for the Vatican by insisting, from his very first Holy Thursday as pope in 2013, to include women and people of other faiths among the 12. Previously, popes performed the ritual on Catholic men only at a Rome basilica.

Francis has traveled each year to a prison, refugee center or youth detention facility to emphasize his belief that a priest’s vocation is to serve especially those most on the margins. In his brief homily, delivered off-the-cuff, Francis explained the meaning of the gesture.

“Jesus humiliates himself,” Francis said. “With this gesture, he makes us understand what he had said: ‘I am not here to be served, but to serve.’”

“He teaches us the path of service,” Francis said.

Francis appeared in good shape at the prison, even after presiding over a long Mass earlier in the day in St. Peter's Basilica. During the morning liturgy, he delivered a lengthy homily with a set of marching orders to Rome-based priests at the start of a busy few days leading to Easter.

Francis has been hobbled by a long bout of respiratory problems this winter and in recent weeks has asked an aide to read aloud his remarks to spare him the strain. On Palm Sunday, he skipped his homily altogether.

But Francis seemed energized by his visit to the Rebibbia prison, where he was given a basket of vegetables grown in the prison garden as well as two liturgical stoles embroidered by the inmates.

Francis, for his part, regifted a framed image of the Madonna that he had been given, saying as soon as he received it he thought of the women at Rebibbia. He also gave a big chocolate Easter egg to the young son of one of the inmates.

Even with Holy Thursday events wrapped up, Francis has a busy few days coming up that will test his stamina.

On Friday, he is due to travel at night to the Colosseum for the Way of the Cross procession re-enacting Christ’s crucifixion. On Saturday, he presides over an evening Easter Vigil in St. Peter’s Basilica followed a few hours later by Easter Sunday Mass in the piazza and his big noontime Urbi et Orbi (to the city and the world) speech highlighting global conflicts and disasters afflicting humanity.

Pope Francis arrives at the Rebibbia prison to celebrate the Last Supper mass with inmates on Holy Thursday, in Rome, Thursday, March 28, 2024. (AP Photo/Andrew Medichini)

Pope Francis arrives at the Rebibbia prison to celebrate the Last Supper mass with inmates on Holy Thursday, in Rome, Thursday, March 28, 2024. (AP Photo/Andrew Medichini)

Pope Francis arrives at the Rebibbia prison to celebrate the Last Supper mass with inmates on Holy Thursday, in Rome, Thursday, March 28, 2024. (AP Photo/Andrew Medichini)

Cardinals attend the Holy Chrism Mass in St. Peter's Basilica, at The Vatican, Thursday, March 28, 2024. (AP Photo/Gregorio Borgia)

Pope Francis celebrates the Holy Chrism Mass in St. Peter's Basilica, at The Vatican, Thursday, March 28, 2024. (AP Photo/Gregorio Borgia)

A Swiss guard gestures as Pope Francis celebrates the Holy Chrism Mass in St. Peter's Basilica, at The Vatican, Thursday, March 28, 2024. (AP Photo/Gregorio Borgia)

Pope Francis celebrates the Holy Chrism Mass in St. Peter's Basilica, at The Vatican, Thursday, March 28, 2024. (AP Photo/Gregorio Borgia)

Cardinals attend the Holy Chrism Mass in St. Peter's Basilica, at The Vatican, Thursday, March 28, 2024. (AP Photo/Gregorio Borgia)

Cardinals attend the Holy Chrism Mass in St. Peter's Basilica, at The Vatican, Thursday, March 28, 2024. (AP Photo/Gregorio Borgia)

Pope Francis celebrates the Holy Chrism Mass in St. Peter's Basilica, at The Vatican, Thursday, March 28, 2024. (AP Photo/Gregorio Borgia)

Cardinals attend the Holy Chrism Mass in St. Peter's Basilica, at The Vatican, Thursday, March 28, 2024. (AP Photo/Gregorio Borgia)

Cardinals attend the Holy Chrism Mass in St. Peter's Basilica, at The Vatican, Thursday, March 28, 2024. (AP Photo/Gregorio Borgia)

Pope Francis celebrates the Holy Chrism Mass in St. Peter's Basilica at The Vatican, Thursday, March 28, 2024. (AP Photo/Gregorio Borgia)

OKMULGEE, Okla. (AP) — As winter fades to spring and the bright purple blossoms of the redbud trees begin to bloom, Cherokee chef Bradley James Dry knows it’s time to forage for morels as well as a staple of Native American cuisine in Oklahoma: wild green onions.

Wild onions are among the first foods to grow at the tail end of winter in the South, and generations of Indigenous people there have placed the alliums at the center of an annual communal event. From February through May, there’s a wild onion dinner every Saturday somewhere in Oklahoma.

The bright green stalks of the onions reach a few inches above the dried leaves that crunch under Dry’s feet on a crisp morning in March as he hunts through parks and empty lots near downtown Tulsa. The land he forages straddles the Muscogee Nation and the Cherokee Nation, and he’s thinking of his elisi — grandmother in Cherokee — who taught him how to pick and cook wild onions.

“Being able to cook like this, cook the things that my grandmother would cook for strangers, that’s really cool,” Dry explains as he scans the forest floor. He’s careful not to overharvest, taking only what he needs.

“Traditionally, what I grew up with, you just boil them in a little bit of water and then fry them with scrambled eggs,” Dry said.

That’s the way wild onions are typically cooked for large gatherings, a side dish of greens with a familiar peppery bite, served alongside fried pork, beans, frybread, chicken dumplings, cornbread, and safke — a soup made with cracked corn and lye from wood ash that is common among tribal nations in the southeast, including the Muscogee, Chickasaw, Choctaw, Cherokee, and Seminole.

Dry likes to mix tradition with contemporary, such as using wild onions to make omelets and kimchi.

“I’ve even used them to create salsa or chimichurri for steaks,” he said.

The following Saturday morning, at least 100 people wait for the tribal community center to open in Okmulgee, the capital of the Muscogee Nation about 40 miles (65 kilometers) south of Tulsa. For the second consecutive year, the community is gathering for a wild onion dinner to raise travel funds for Claudia McHenry, a tribal citizen hoping to compete at this year’s Miss Indian World Pageant in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Dozens of people cook and hand out food, there is a silent auction, and a local mekko — a Muscogee spiritual leader — gives the opening welcome.

Over the last several generations, churches in Oklahoma — particularly United Methodist Churches in Native American communities — have used wild onion dinners to raise funds for church bills and annual dues, said Chebon Kernell, a mekko for his community and a UMC clergy member.

“But as the years went by, it became an enormous community event,” he said.

McHenry said seeing the community rally behind her gives her the courage she needs.

“To just see people turn out for me physically," she said. "It gives me really a lot of good emotions and pushes me and propels me to continue forward toward my goals.”

For the next three hours, hundreds show up and pay $15 for a plate of food to send her down that path. For many, helping McHenry or the local church is the only thing that could improve upon the undeniable allure of hogfry. And in no place is that truer than the Springfield UMC in Okemah, another 35 miles (55 kilometers) south, the following Saturday.

It isn’t uncommon for people to come from Arkansas, Kansas, or Texas for a piece of that community's famed fried pork and a heap of wild onions. Some travel that far because they’re part of the Muscogee diaspora. Others simply follow the church's signs down a dusty gravel road until the canopy of trees opens up to an endless field of waving grass, still copper from the winter’s rest.

For nearly two decades, hundreds have lined up on the porch of the church’s small gathering hall on the first Saturday in April for a plate of food. And every year you’ll find Carol Tiger there, elbow deep in a bowl of frybread mix.

Everyone calls Tiger the head cook.

“I just let them know what we have to do,” she said, sending a wave of laughter through the kitchen.

In past years, Tiger and other church elders would take their grandkids to pick onions, but this year they’re expecting 500 to 600 hungry people, so they purchased their onions cleaned and chopped for $40 a gallon. The families of the church also contribute a gallon each.

Elders tell stories from the rocking chairs on the porch, children play in the woods nearby, and vendors sell beadwork and clothing. The small field around the church has been cut and edged and is full of vehicles with tribal tags from across the state. Men fry pork in a giant pan over a fire outside, while women fill the dining hall with the warmth of home-cooked food.

After clearing their plates, attendees enjoy a piece of cake or a bowl of grape dumplings — a dessert traditionally made from wild grape juice that today is often made with frozen juice and canned biscuits. They stay well into the afternoon, talking and eating, certainly sad when it's time to go.

But it's mid-April, and wild onion dinner season isn't over yet. There's always next Saturday, a little further down the road.

Graham Lee Brewer is a member of the AP's Race and Ethnicity team.

Signs for the Springfield United Methodist Church direct visitors to their annual wild onion dinner in Okemah, Okla.,, April 6, 2024. On the first Saturday in April for almost 20 years now, the church has hosted the traditional meal common among Native American tribes from the southeastern U.S. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)

A person is served at the Springfield United Methodist Church in Okemah, Okla., at the annual wild onion dinner on April 6, 2024. Wild onions are among the first foods to grow in the spring, and the dinners have been a tradition in Native American communities for generations. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)

A tray of fried pork is served at the Springfield United Methodist Church's annual wild onion dinner in Okemah, Okla., on April 6, 2024. The church is on the Muscogee Nation's reservation, where the meals using wild onions picked by the community are an annual tradition. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)

A tray of wild onions ready to be served is set on a counter at the Springfield United Methodist Church's annual wild onion dinner in Okemah, Okla., on April 6, 2024. Wild onions are among the first foods to grow wild in the spring, and for generations Native American communities in Oklahoma have gathered every year to pick and cook them together. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)

A steaming dish of wild onions ready to be served is set on a counter at the Springfield United Methodist Church's annual wild onion dinner in Okemah, Okla.,, April 6, 2024. Wild onions are among the first foods to grow wild in the spring, and for generations Native American communities in Oklahoma have gathered every year to pick and cook them together. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)

Ethel Humble, an elder at the Springfield United Methodist Church in Okemah, Okla., hands out a portion of the church's famous fried pork at their annual wild onion dinner, April 6, 2024. The church is on the Muscogee Nation's reservation, where the meals using wild onions picked by the community are an annual tradition. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)

Carol Tiger, a member of Muscogee Nation and an elder at the Springfield United Methodist Church in Okemah, Okla., lets the oil drip off a freshly-cooked piece of frybread at the church's annual wild onion dinner on AprilA 6, 2024. Wild onions are among the first foods to grow in the spring, and the dinners have been a tradition in Native American communities for generations. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)

Members of the Springfield United Methodist Church in Okemah, Okla., dump a freshly cooked pot of wild onions into a tray to be served on April 6, 2024. Hundreds of people line up every year to eat at the church's annual wild onion dinner, which it uses to raise funds. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)

Ethel Humble, an elder at the Springfield United Methodist Church in Okemah, Okla.,, hands out a portion of the church's famous fried pork at their annual wild onion dinner, April 6, 2024. The church is on the Muscogee Nation's reservation, where the meals using wild onions picked by the community are an annual tradition. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)

Ethel Humble, an elder at the Springfield United Methodist Church in Okemah, Okla., hands out a portion of the church's famous fried pork at their annual wild onion dinner on April 6, 2024. The church is on the Muscogee Nation's reservation, where the meals using wild onions picked by the community are an annual tradition. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)

Carol Tiger, a member of Muscogee Nation and an elder at the Springfield United Methodist Church in Okemah, Okla.,, mixes dough to make frybread at the church's annual wild onion dinner on April 5, 2024. Frybread is a staple dish at wild onion dinners, which are common among tribal nations from the southeastern U.S. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)

Members of the Springfield United Methodist Church in Okemah, Okla., prepare pork for cooking on April 5, 2024. Fried pork is an important dish at wild onion dinners in Oklahoma. The dinners are an annual tradition among tribal nations in the state originally from the southeastern U.S. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)

Fried chicken that is one of the many things visitors can expect to eat at the Springfield United Methodist Church's annual wild onion dinner, sits on the counter in Okemah, Okla., on April 6, 2024. The dinners center around the green onions that grow all over Oklahoma. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)

A bag of cleaned and chopped wild onions sits on the counter in the kitchen of the Springfield United Methodist Church in Okemah, Okla., April 5, 2024. Wild onion dinners are a common annual tradition among several Native American communities in Oklahoma. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)

Members of the Springfield United Methodist Church in Okemah, Okla., prepare pork for cooking on April 5, 2024. Fried pork is an important dish at wild onion dinners in Oklahoma. The dinners are an annual tradition among tribal nations in the state originally from the southeastern U.S. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)

Ethel Humble, an elder at the Springfield United Methodist Church in Okemah, Okla., stirs a steaming tray of wild onions at the church's annual wild onion dinner, April 6, 2024. The church is on the Muscogee Nation's reservation, where the meals using wild onions picked by the community are an annual tradition. (AP Photo/Brittany Bendabout)