Weekly Lenten Art April 3 | lafayette-christian

Flow
by Carmelle Beaugelin Caldwell
Inspired by John 13:1-35
11”x14” Acrylic on paper

Artist Statement

The last time I washed another person’s feet was ten years ago while interning at First United Methodist Church of Miami. For more than thirty years, First Church has hosted the Breakfast Club—a ministry of shared meals, fellowship, and worship with the unhoused community in downtown Miami. One of its most meaningful traditions is the Breakfast Club’s annual foot washing event, a practice that has become a radical act of faith and service. It has drawn local attention, not for its novelty but for its reciprocity—modeling a kind of fellowship that resists the tendency to “other” those who express need.

Knowing what would come next, I often wondered what it must have been like for the disciples to watch Jesus wash Judas’s feet. None of us is too great or too small to receive grace. Even the water—swirling with dust and surrender—becomes a witness
to transformation.

To wash one another’s feet—even those whom society deems “untouchable”—is an act of profound grace. There is deep vulnerability and intimacy in holding someone’s feet in your hands, and in allowing another to hold yours. The practice of foot washing remains, for me, one of the most meaningful expressions of Christian faith I have ever participated in.

—Carmelle Beaugelin Caldwell

Revealed through Nonviolence
by Lauren Wright Pittman
Inspired by Luke 22:47-53; Luke 23:33-38, 44-46
11”x14” Gouache & colored pencils on paper

Artist Statement

Creating this image was overwhelming. I sought to capture Jesus’ nonviolent response to relentless violence. As I considered each moment of his journey to the cross, I felt despondent. I know how hard it is to resist the reactive urge that courses through me even experiencing mild forms of violence. How much more difficult then for Jesus to endure such dehumanizing acts? Was he stripped so completely
of his humanity that only divinity remained—and even that restrained from retribution?

Begin at the center with Judas's kiss—intimate, subversively violent. Follow the sword behind Judas to the top left: a disciple fiercely defends Jesus, while to his right, the high priest’s slave screams after his ear is cut. Jesus reproves the violence and heals the servant.

Moving clockwise, a man—representing the chief priests and temple police—points an accusatory finger, wielding the authority to kill an innocent man. To his right, a man crafts Jesus’ cross, quietly sustaining the violence of the status quo. Below him, an opportunist casts lots for Jesus’ clothes, while a leader laughs at the impossibility that the Messiah will save himself. Finally, in the bottom left, a man offers Jesus sour wine in a moment of deep thirst—physical and spiritual.

At the heart of it all is Jesus, tearful, looking at us. His halo shines, revealing the many faces of violence around him. From the foundation of his steady posture grows an olive tree. Its branches extend beyond his clothing, reaching out to embrace those around him. Through his nonviolent stance, the truth of a violent world is revealed. And in that truth, the good news of peace finds soil in which to take root, to grow, and to flourish.

—Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman