Holy Thursday: Sharing Life

 Tonight we begin the Paschal Triduum, the great big liturgy that really begins tonight and only ends on the evening of Easter Sunday.  In it, we remember the greatest mysteries of our Christian faith.  And each liturgy is filled with rich symbolism and ritual that helps us enter into the mystery of Christ's suffering, death and resurrection.

We begin, of course, with the Mass of the Lord's Supper.  We remember when Christ gave us his body and blood.  We recall (and re-enact) Jesus washing the feet of his disciples as an act of humble service.  And then we "travel" with Jesus to Gethsemane where he asks us to watch and pray with him.  We are invited to spend time in the quiet church with the Lord, watching and praying.  This is one of my favorite parts.  Maybe it's because I like the dimmed lights and the last remnants of incense that still linger in the air.  Maybe it's because the liturgy gives me so much to ponder and contemplate.  Maybe it's because I just really need some more quiet in my life, and I let myself find it tonight.

Whatever the reason, that's what I did tonight.  I sat in the quiet of the church, watching and praying.  As I was doing this, a group of women came in together to do just the same.  In many places, it is a tradition to travel around to different churches and pray at their altar of repose.  I was first introduced to this when I was in Rome, and as I sat in the church tonight, my thoughts turned to two years ago.

Two years ago, myself and two Marianist seminarians decided to partake in the practice.  After going to mass at our parish, we began walking through our neighborhood, visiting several churches, stopping to say a few prayers at each one.  While the walking and the praying were good, what I remember most is just the fellowship we shared.  As we made our way from church to church, we talked, we laughed, and knowing us we probably yelled a little too (venting frustrations and disappointments.)  And I'm pretty sure we ended up going to the Roman equivalent of a dive - where the pizza was greasy (but oh so good) and the beer was cheap (and actually cold.)  But in doing all of this, we just shared life with each other.

And as I sat in the church tonight and recalled that evening two years ago, I realized that maybe this is one of the messages that Jesus tried to leave us at that last supper he shared with his friends.  At the Eucharist, we gather together around the altar, and we hear Jesus say, "This is my body and blood given to you."  It's as if he's saying, "Look, I am giving myself to you, I am sharing myself with you tonight."  In the Eucharist Jesus shares his life with us.  And then he tells us to do the same.  "Do this in memory of me."  It's as if Jesus is telling us, "Share your life with each other, just as I have done for you."  In the Eucharist we are called to share a apart of ourselves with each other. 

What I experienced two years ago with friends as we traveled on a Holy Thursday night, helped me glimpse what Eucharist is about.  Just as Jesus shares his life with us, we are called to share our lives with others.  We are called to walk with each other and just share life - maybe it involves laughing and talking, maybe even pizza and beer.  Maybe it just means that we understand that we are brothers and sisters, and we treat each other that way, or that we stoop and wash another's foot.  (As we look around the world today, it seems that we could use a little bit more of this, right?)  However we do it, though, we are invited to the table of life, and then we are invited to share this life, our life, with each other.  This is what it means to be Eucharist.

Holy Thursday Mass of the Lord's Supper

Tonight we begin the celebration of the great Paschal Triduum - the celebration of the most central mysteries of our Christian faith. The Passion, death and resurrection of Christ. We follow with Jesus from the Last Supper to the Garden of Gethsemane. We journey the road to Calvary and wait at the sealed tomb. We greet the new morning of Resurrection and ponder the empty grave.

And so we begin tonight in the upper room with Jesus and his gathered friends as they share a final meal together, a meal that is also our meal. But a weird thing happens in our liturgy. As the Gospel is proclaimed, we don't hear the words "This is my body. This is my blood." Rather, we hear in the Gospel reading that Jesus took a basin and pitcher of water and, stooping down, began to wash his disciples' feet.  Not what we might expect, but.....

...then an even weirder thing happens. Jesus washes all their feet. All. Pause for a moment and think about what this means. Yes, he even washes the feet of Judas, the one who will betray him, his traitor. And yet he still washes his feet.

We can ask ourselves, "how is this possible?" Maybe Jesus just didn't want to make a scene. Well, given his anger with the Temple moneychangers and his debates with the Pharisees, this seems improbable.  Maybe Jesus thought that it would change Judas' mind. But, Judas had already made the deal, and 30 silver pieces is a nice chunk of change for one small kiss.  Maybe Jesus didn't know the plans Judas had made. But, we are told very clearly later on that he did in fact know. Maybe....maybe....maybe. As we try to rationalize this from our own points of view, all our suggestions seem to fall short.

But if we look at this from Jesus' point of view, is there something more? We often see in this act of foot-washing a call to humble service. And we are right in seeing this. But maybe it is also a call to forgiveness. A great act of forgiveness that Jesus offers to his traitor. A great example of forgiveness that Jesus offers to us. A reminder that one part of humble service is forgiveness, to forgive those that have hurt us, betrayed us, killed us in some way. It is not easy - I know that from firsthand experience and am not always good at it - but it is what Jesus asks of us as we journey with him and take up the call of discipleship.

I have volunteered several times at the Marianist Family Retreat Center in Cape May Point, NJ. In the summers, families come on retreat together, and one moment that is always very moving is the evening Reconciliation service. During it, family members wash each others' feet as a sign of forgiveness and love. Without any excuses, without any words and without any fanfare, this simple gesture washes away much hurt and sorrow. It says, "I am sorry. I forgive you. I love you no matter what."

This is a reflection of what Jesus did as he washed the feet of Judas. It is a reflection of what we are all called to do as a Eucharistic people. I am reminded that earlier in his ministry Jesus taught that "If you are bringing your offering to the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your offering there before the altar, go and be reconciled with your brother or sister first, and then come back and present your offering" (Mt 5:23). How appropriate as we remember tonight that last meal that Jesus shared with his friends, the meal that we celebrate on our own altars in remembrance of him.

Tonight as we enter most intimately into the Paschal Mystery of Christ, we are reminded of Jesus' call to forgiveness, remembering that we have been forgiven by Jesus first. In his homily for the Chrism Mass, Pope Francis spoke of the washing of the feet as "the cleansing of discipleship...The Lord washes us and cleanses us of all the dirt our feet have accumulated in following him.  This is something holy....Like battle wounds, the Lord kisses them and washes away the grime of our labors." 

Let us pray that we might follow the example of Jesus who has forgiven us and forgiven Judas.  That we too might take a basin and pitcher of water, stoop down, and wash each others' feet with the healing and cleansing waters of forgiveness.

Blessed Triduum, my friends.

(Special thanks to Fr. Michael, SM who offered this theme during a recent retreat.)

Stay and Watch With Me

Holy Thursday
Good Friday
Holy Saturday
Easter Sunday

"Last Supper" by Sieger Koder

Tonight we enter into the most sacred time of the our Church year, the Paschal Triduum.  In it, we remember the central mysteries of our faith - the Passion, Death and Resurrection of Jesus.  Our liturgies contain some of the most beautiful rituals and traditions.  Tonight is no different.  We wash feet.  We celebrate the Lord's Supper with renewed vigor.  We process through the church while chanting an ancient hymn.

"The Washing of the Feet" by Sieger Koder

At the end, we strip the sanctuary of all things.  The altar is left uncovered.  The candles are extinguished.  The tabernacle is empty.  The joy that began the evening with the singing of the Gloria and the ringing of bells now leaves us in silence, nakedness, darkness.   In an instant, we are transported from a festive meal with friends to the solitude and fear of the Garden of Gethsemane.  And we hear the urgent plea of Jesus, "Won't you stay and watch with me?"

"Hour of Darkness" by Sieger Koder

We are invited this evening to spend some moments in silent prayer before the altar of repose where the Blessed Sacrament will be kept during this most dark night.  We hear in the Gospels that Peter, James and John couldn't stay awake with Jesus in the Garden.  Three times Jesus came to them, and three times Jesus found them asleep.  Could they not stay and watch with Jesus?  Can we stay and watch?  We also hear in the Gospels that Jesus was tormented, that he was full of anguish.  German theologian Karl Rahner suggests that part of Jesus' distress and sorrow came from our sins that he would carry with the cross.  In the Garden, Jesus knew our sins for which he would die.  For us, Jesus stayed awake.  For us, Jesus watched.  For us, Jesus prayed.  For us, Jesus died.  Can't we stay awake and watch with him for just a little while?

Our Marianist charism offers us an image that I think can help us to stay and watch.  It is the Visitation of Mary to Elizabeth.  While the Visitation and Garden of Gethsemane are two totally different situations, we hear that Mary went in haste to her older and pregnant cousin.  All the while, Mary's life had just been turned upside down with the news that she was pregnant.  But, in that moment, Mary went, and we are told she stayed for three months.  Mary had preoccupations and preparations to make, but she went, she stayed with Elizabeth.  Mary was present in her cousin's time of need, and she carried Jesus to her.  Our Marianist Vow of Stability calls us to do the same - to be present with our brothers and sisters in need, no matter our own preoccupations.  Stability invites us to offer our support and comfort, even in the darkest moments.  Like Mary who stayed and watched, Marianist Stability calls us to the do the same - tonight to stay and watch with Christ, in his suffering, our suffering.

"Magnificat" by Sieger Koder

In Rome, there is a tradition of visiting several churches on Holy Thursday night and spending a few moments in prayer there.  While this isn't so easy to do in many places, there's a church on about every corner in the city of Rome.  But, however we can do it - in your own church, in a corner of your house, in the silence of your heart - let's spend some time watching and praying.  Let's take the lead of Mary.  Let's be with Jesus in his agony, knowing that he did it all for us.

 

 A video with the Taize song "Stay with Me"

 
Blessed Triduum, my friends.

Ciao!

Do you realize what I have done for you?

Holy Thursday
Good Friday
Paschal Vigil
Easter Sunday

This evening we begin the liturgical celebration of the Paschal Triduum - the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus - with the Mass of the Lord's Supper.  We recall the Last Supper that Jesus ate with his disciples.  And, in this liturgy, a strange thing happens.  When the Gospel is read we don't hear the expected words, "This is my body...This is my blood."  Instead, we listen as Jesus takes a basin or water, ties a towel around his waist, and washes the disciples' feet.  We hear the mandate of Jesus: "I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do."  We are given an example to follow, and this leads us to community.

Christian songwriter Michael Card, in his song The Basin and the Towel, makes this point in his refrain:

And the call is to community,
The impoverished power that sets the soul free.
In humility, to take the vow,
that day after day we must take up the basin and the towel.

In the simple and humbling act of foot washing,  Jesus invites his disciples (and us) into community by showing them (and us) how to be a member of community.  It involves letting the self go and being for the other.  Jesus reverses the logic of his day (and our day).  He takes not the highest position, but the lowest.  He does not exalt himself, but empties himself.  He becomes the servant of the others, letting go of himself so as to be with the others in an intentional and authentic way.  With great humilty, Jesus shows us a supreme act of love - love not for himself but for his friends.

If you reread the passage you will see a succession of action verbs throughout the story (he rose, took off, tied, poured, washed, etc.)  The love that Jesus models is not one of lip-service or lofty platitudes.  It is, rather, an active love - one that "does" for the other.  This is how we build community, by emptying ourselves and actively loving those around us just as Jesus did at the Last Supper.  This impoverished power sets him free and sets all of us free.

In the end, this is what Eucharist is all about.  Jesus gives of himself to us.  It is an act of love that is a gift and a task.  His flesh and blood are gifts given to us for all time.  We truly receive Jesus in the communion ritual.  At the same time, we must be Eucharist.  That is, we must be in communion with our sisters and brothers.  At every mass, this is symbolically acted out as we, all together, approach the altar to receive the body and blood of Christ.  We join together in the same line and sing the same hymn.  We do not hoard the food, but share it.  We assent in our "Amen" to receive and to be "The Body of Christ" here and now.  As we do at Mass, so we must do in our families, schools, work places, communities, and world.  This is no easy task, but it is the task given to us by Jesus.  Day after day, we must take up the basin and the towel.

This great Paschal Triduum begins in a surprising way.  Let us pray that the God of surprises might help us to live and love as Jesus did.  To serve and not to be served.  To wash each others' feet.  To build community.  To find new life from death.

[I first heard Michael Cards' The Basin and the Towel while helping at a summer family retreat at the Marianist Family Retreat Center in Cape May, NJ.  One evening, parents wash their childrens' feet in an act of reconciliation and love.  Click here for a link to the song.]

Blessings on your Triduum!

Ciao!