How Beautiful the Feet

Last week I had the privilege to stand on the lawn of our nation’s capitol and watch from afar as the thousands upon thousands of equality marchers made their way down Pennsylvania Avenue.

Waiting at the dais, our small band of interfaith religious leaders stood silent as we caught the first glimpse of the marchers cresting the horizon of the avenue. The brilliant colors of their banners and flags announced their coming and if you strained your ears just enough you could hear the faint whisper of their joyful songs, chants and drums growing louder, step by step.

Looking around at my colleagues, there was not a dry eye to be found. For the sight of the march echoed a familiar hope for each one of us. Known and named differently in each of our traditions, our collective hope was embodied for a rare, brief moment before our eyes; echoed in footsteps of the marchers, given voice through their song and made real by their presence.

O God, freedom was coming…and we could see it now! How beautiful the feet of those who bring peace!

How beautiful indeed! Friends, that day on the lawn of the capitol, under the brilliant blue sky, in the light of the shining sun, we looked good! Mmmmm….we looked fierce! How beautiful, how fabulous, were the feet of those who marched that day!

As I stood there, I could not help but recall our texts for today, first in Isaiah and then again echoed in Romans. “How beautiful the feet of the messengers who announce peace…How beautiful the feet of those who bring good news!” I had to wonder if the vision of the prophets and of Paul induced that same strange warming of the heart that I felt as I witnessed the good news being brought to the very steps of the capitol.

Their context was different, but was the hope not the same?