It’s that time of year when parishioners scatter like startled sheep. The call goes out for volunteers to have their feet washed on Holy Thursday, and suddenly, we’re armed with a thousand excuses.

We get it – our knobbly, stinky feet aren’t exactly our best feature. The idea of baring them in public, especially to our parish priest, is mortifying.

A trip to the nail salon is different. It’s transactional – pay the fee, walk out w ...