Beautiful feet. They’re to be found in the work place, on the radio, among your friends and family, via the internet, on your street and, if you’re blessed, in your own home. They might be buffed and trim, cracked and calloused, or hidden away in shoes and socks. They belong to people who are glad to be alive and are responsible for themselves, who won’t judge or slander, who pay attention, who choose — as far as they’re able — not to act from fear or aggression, whose self-knowledge blossoms into compassion, and who are often also joyful, curious and funny. They make you glad to be alive. They make you grow. I can think of quite a few and I’m immeasurably richer for knowing them. Soprano Judy Bellingham sang about them yesterday in the Catholic Basilica, to the music of Handel, in the words of Isaiah:

How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace and bring glad tidings of good things.