Today is Maundy Thursday. Holy Week is here, friends.
Lent has brought us from a Tolkienian Ash Wednesday meditation through the trickiness of fasting and the importance of being present to praying through a heavy heart, and on to the complicated nature of time and the paradox of giving and receiving found in Palm Sunday.
In the post on time, I mentioned that the conclusion of Lent can produce a sort of panic: have I listened? Have I changed? Am I ready? As I said then, the answer to the final question is always NO: we will never be ready for Easter, and therein lies grace.
Even today, I felt my thoughts wandering into their comfortable logistical shelters, and I had to fight to stay present – as I described in a post over a month ago. For a moment, the recognition of how far I’ve not come was discouraging; but then, I remembered another theme from this Lenten season: invitation.
Easter Sunday is not the end of growth. Lent is a gate through which we are invited to step onto the road with Jesus, following him to the cross and the tomb – and beyond.
This weekend is another invitation: to keep walking, on and through to the next step of the journey.
But first, we celebrate – which leads us to the next few posts.
In the Episcopal Church, the three days leading up to Easter are known as the Easter Tridduum: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday. This year, I have written a poem for each day, so you’ll be getting three mini-posts this weekend. (Easter will be a day of rest and rejoicing, as it should be.)
For now, Maundy Thursday:
On this night – the night before the crucifixion – Jesus gathered with his disciples to celebrate the Passover. Observing the sacred rituals that mark this most holy night in the Jewish faith, they shared a meal and told the story of God’s deliverance of Israel from Egypt.
I find it both beautiful and important to remember that this is how Jesus chose to spend the night before his death: he ate and drank with his closest friends, and they told stories.
The idea of celebration has become significant in my household over these last few days of Lent. Celebration is truly a discipline: scripture tells us over and over that we must keep looking back at what God has done in the past. Otherwise, we will have no faith for the present and will swiftly lose hope for the future.
May we, no matter what we face this night, heed the example of Christ:
May we break bread and tell stories with our dear ones.
May we remember God’s faithfulness in the past and give thanks for present – and future – deliverance.
May we celebrate.
Maundy Thursday
Seed sown
Word spoken
Time flown
Bread broken
Grain reaped
Care pounded
Truth steeped
Call sounded
Grapes crushed
Life given
Hate hushed
Heart riven
Wine poured
Soul kneaded
Hope gored
Love seeded
Powerful, Ruth!
Such a clear and sharp focus you have given!! Thank you