Maundy Thursday Everything feels heavier these days. Feeling lost or disoriented, feeling like everything's on autopilot, feeling like everything is out of sorts. There’s an aimlessness and restlessness in the air. Much of the time I seem to be slogging through. Slogging through and going…going...? With empty streets and empty tables, it’s hard to get my bearings these days. I’m feeling displaced and disheveled. On this Maundy Thursday my soul is having a hard time keeping up. We are told from John’s Gospel that on the night Jesus and his friends gathered, none of the friends knew that this night would turn out so differently. We are told that Jesus wanted to wash their feet. We are told that some protested. We are told that Jesus yet again loved them into changing their hearts and minds. I can only imagine how quiet the room must have gotten on that night. Perhaps all that could be heard was the pouring of the water and maybe even their quiet conversations being whispered one to another. Jesus and his friends had gathered to share a meal. No one knowing that forever afterwards this meal would be called the Last Supper. What they knew was they were together in Jerusalem. What they knew was the stories they had shared. What they knew was the collected memories of time spent together with Jesus. What they would soon come to understand was how much these memories and stories would strengthen them for the coming hours and the coming days. As we are living in and through these days of COVID-19's Pandemic, we, like those friends don’t know what lies ahead for us. We too can only see what’s right here before us. But I think it’s important for us to remember that like those friends gathered around the table, we too have stories in our hearts. I pray that they will be what we need in the coming hours and days as well. I pray that Jesus will love me into keeping my heart open to what is next. "Do this in remembrance of me." Leave a Reply. |
AuthorLesley is an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ. Her passions are listening to her sons, John Brogan and Sam sing; great conversations, long walks and baseball. Archives
April 2020
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