Clothes Lines & Foot Washing
On the mountainside leaving Ouray, Colorado as you head south to Silverton is a cabin with a huge sign “ANTIQUES 9 to 5:30”. Most important is the clothes line next to it full of clothes. It was put there years ago when the city council of Telluride, the town not far from Ouray, decided to ban clothes lines as ‘unsightly’. In response, someone in Ouray, which is a bit more of a hang loose kind of place, decided to put up the clothes line as a nominal protest.
It reminded me of years back when I was in seminary and we lived in one of the forsaken seminary beige triplexes. We had a common laundry room and clothes line out back near the parking. Jeannie had done some laundry early and left it on the line for the day. As we were coming home that evening she asked if I had taken the things off the line. Nope. Someone had removed them and stolen her panties! (Can’t recall if they’d taken my briefs). There on hallowed seminary ground there was a thief!
(One of the great reasons for hanging clothes on the line back then was how they smelled from the fresh air…particularly sheets.)
Then my wandering mind turns to foot washing, a Biblical ritual practiced by few these days. We’ll practice the Eucharist, anoint with oil and do baptisms but taking off our shoes and socks has gone by the wayside. Even for those of us who claim Christianity, having had our Creator God demonstrate foot washing to us shortly before he died saying, do this for one another—it still did not take with us.
When I was president of the Association of Nazarenes in Social Work (ANSW) our logo was the towel and basin. For General Assembly one year I located a potter who made us a beautiful, tall water vessel and a basin large enough for two feet. A towel from Sears or Penney’s would not do in my artsy mind. So, at the local artisan craft fair in Centennial Park I found a weaver who wove a towel similar to one that might have been 2000 years ago. All this was placed on two waist high pedestals. It was a beautiful work of art.
Whether it’s hanging our underwear on the line or baring our dirty (stinky?) feet, by doing so we reveal of parts of ourselves that we most often tend to keep private. There’s not much pretty about our boney feet (unless you have a foot fetish—forgive me, I’m a therapist). It’s in this reveal that we are following the eleventh commandment…confess yourselves one to another. It was a commandment not a suggestion if you read it clearly. Clothes lines now would be even more telling with Victoria’s Secret and Under Armour!
Finding a safe place, whether that’s a good friendship or a therapist, to open up to is essential in life. We were never meant to bear all that comes our way alone. A burden shared is a burden lifted. There is relief, a balm that comes with confession. Confession doesn’t have to be the deepest and darkest of our recesses and yet it’s when the light shines into those corners that profound healing comes.
I have been a lucky, blessed man, whatever word (or both) you want to use. I learned early the gift of good male friends to share in depth with. Different friendships have been consistently there over my lifetime. Even today, I have close buddies who are up to date with my insides. Those relationships have developed over years and are mutual in the sharing. Then there have been times that I sought out professional help. My three weeks in intensive counseling in Scottsdale years ago still is one of the two high points in my entire life. (My Rite of Passage with Richard Rohr at Ghost Ranch in New Mexico was the other).
Find a good place to hang out your laundry. Take off your shoes and socks! We come into the fullness of our being when we confess upward, to God. We know healing only when we confess to one another.
Remember. It’s not a suggestion.