Loving with Feet and Fungi

6th Sunday of Easter

John 15:9-17

There was a story in the microbiology journal mSystems a few years back that revealed a surprising way to identify the people we love.  No questionnaires, pictures, or words are necessary.  To tell who you love all the scientists need is a swab of our toes.  Once cultured, those wavy lines in a petri dish reveal a unique community of microbes that make their home on the skin and nails of your feet. These are not the problematic fungi that lead to the embarrassed placement of a tube of Lamasil on the drug store checkout counter. These small creatures are as innocent a part of your body as any of your native cells and some of them even contribute to the healthy functioning of our feet.  And it turns out that those with whom we share life tend to share the same microbial community–you pick up some of theirs and they yours and eventually you have the same microscopic zoo on the soles of your feet.

I was struck by this story as I reflected on our Gospel for this Sunday.  It comes in the Gospel of John, shortly after Jesus washed the feet of his disciples, and it continues the new commandment to love that we celebrated on Maundy Thursday. Read more

Come and Look

Easter 6, Year A

Acts 17:22-31

John 14:15-21

Do you have a dog and do you walk her?  Or a child?  A walk with a child or a dog can be an exercise in frustration.  Dogs and children don’t walk in straight paths, they meander, zig zag, go up and down, stop and start.  This can be a problem if you have a destination in mind, if you want to get somewhere, but if you want to see?  A walk with a dog or a child can open up whole new modes of perception.

This is the truth that Alexandra Horowitz writes about in her book On Looking: A Walker’s Guide to Observation.  Horowitz, a cognitive scientist by trade, takes walks with eleven experts, each one helping her to see the journey in a different way.  From a geologist and a sound designer, a dog and a child, and a host of other curious observers Horowitz learns to see her Manhattan neighborhood in whole new ways, noticing what she’d long ignored, seeing what she’d never been able to perceive, all because someone came alongside her and showed her what had always been there.

On those walks Horowitz writes: “I would find myself at once alarmed, delighted, and humbled at the limitations of my ordinary looking. My consolation is that this deficiency of mine is quite human. We see, but we do not see: we use our eyes, but our gaze is glancing, frivolously considering its object. We see the signs, but not their meanings. We are not blinded, but we have blinders.”

Horowitz sounds like the prophet Isaiah when he proclaims the message of God:

‘Keep listening, but do not comprehend;
keep looking, but do not understand.’ (6:9) Read more