Holy Thursday Reflections
I was in tears for a good portion of last evening. Since going to confession and hearing the words "I want to let God love me" come out of my mouth, I feel like something has opened up inside. I let Father's statement "have a holy week like never before" also open me to new ways of experiencing the liturgies. At the Basilica, they're stunning, despite their length and the seemingly endless processions and recessions.
In any case, the focus of Holy Thursday is the washing of feet, and then the blessing and transfer of the Eucharist. Father's homily started with a story from his recent trip to the Holy Land with other clergy from diverse religions (Evangelical Christian, Mainline Christian, Catholic Christian, Unitarian, Jewish, and Muslim). He said he offered a loaf of bread to share with all these diverse people, and discussed how our Eucharist is about sharing the meal. He then said he apologized to his fellow Christian friends, because he had never invited them to come speak at the Basilica, because he regretted that he would not be able to share communion with them because of Church teaching. He had invited the Unitarian, the Muslim, the Jew, because they would not want to participate in the Eucharist, but not the Christian, because they would. Father then mused as to how it was that this Eucharistic meal has been turned into something that excludes people rather than includes them.
Moving from thoughts of religious division to division within the community, Father started speaking about Communion. "If you're here because you think you're good, then you don't really need Communion. If you think you don't deserve Communion -- you're the ones who need it." He used that to talk about the "other", which he defined in this sense as "anyone we don't like," including Fundamentalist-Evangelical-Right-Wingers. "We are called to be a people of radical acceptance, to love the other."
My heart cracked wide open, because I've been thinking a lot about service lately. In the past 4 1/2 years as I've been trying to "figure myself out," I've been a bit self-centered, or at least, haven't had the urge to serve others when I felt that I myself was not being served. (There's that sin of not allowing God to Love me again!) But, I've had an urge lately to go beyond myself in the way I love. It's a simple understanding, and a place I haven't been since college.
I think I discounted a lot of GOOD stuff when I started dealing with the causes of my anxiety in 1999. Discipline is not a bad thing, but the way I was using it at the time was. Striving for perfection is not bad thing, but not appreciating progress (which is the only measure) was. Now, I'm starting to reincorporate those things I set aside. I'm finding discipline, I'm enjoying the process, I want to get outside of myself.
After confession the other night, I tried to go down and use the Taize prayer service to calm me and to aid my prayer. But I needed some time to wander. The Church was mostly empty, so I visited the side altars and statues. I knelt before the statue of the Immaculate Conception, and had the OVERWHELMING sense of being a little child looking up to a parent. A child doesn't earn a parent's love -- a child simply is loved, and is secure in that love. It's when we get "smarter" that we start to think that we're not worthy of that.
There was the washing of the feet, which was also an extremely emotional thing for me. I was behind a girl I didn't know, and my friend Kenny was behind me. At first, I expected I'd wash her feet and he'd wash mine. That would be OK -- I think I was more comfortable to serve someone who didn't know me because they didn't know my faults. But when it turned out to be the other way around -- being served by a stranger, and serving a friend who knows me and my brokenness. I'm getting teary just writing it. This touches me much more deeply than I understand at this point.
Of course the music was just what I needed. A lot of Taize -- meditative, repetitive. There's something about saying "Ubi caritas deus ibi est" ("where charity and love prevail, God is there") over and over again that is just SO peaceful. Then we sang the AMAZING Durufle Ubi Caritas, which didn't help the tears any. The Schola sang Tallis' If ye love me, and our voices blended so well, so clearly, it really was as if we were singing with a single voice. Then, there was Bruckner's Christus factus est (Kenny's favorite piece EVER). To hear the text "super omne nomen" ("above every other name") again and again in so many different ways just made me think of how much Christ loved us.
Christ's love. That's a new concept. Whenever I read Jesus' words, I've always thought of them as "rebukes." Kind of like, "Why don't you get this? You're so stupid and it's so simple!" Maybe that's why I never fully understood everyone who talked about "Jesus' love." But I'm beginning to understand the loving, caring Jesus. Even in the Bach that I'm working on right now, I have a much more compassionate understanding of Jesus words than I ever have. When Jesus tells Peter, "You will deny me," it's not with anger, but with compassion. He says, "Peter, I know you better than you know yourself. Even though you will disappoint yourself, and think you have disappointed me, I will still love you."
That's a message I need to hear, and a good transition into Good Friday, the Passion, the adoration of the Cross, and Tenebrae -- the "Service of darkness."
In any case, the focus of Holy Thursday is the washing of feet, and then the blessing and transfer of the Eucharist. Father's homily started with a story from his recent trip to the Holy Land with other clergy from diverse religions (Evangelical Christian, Mainline Christian, Catholic Christian, Unitarian, Jewish, and Muslim). He said he offered a loaf of bread to share with all these diverse people, and discussed how our Eucharist is about sharing the meal. He then said he apologized to his fellow Christian friends, because he had never invited them to come speak at the Basilica, because he regretted that he would not be able to share communion with them because of Church teaching. He had invited the Unitarian, the Muslim, the Jew, because they would not want to participate in the Eucharist, but not the Christian, because they would. Father then mused as to how it was that this Eucharistic meal has been turned into something that excludes people rather than includes them.
Moving from thoughts of religious division to division within the community, Father started speaking about Communion. "If you're here because you think you're good, then you don't really need Communion. If you think you don't deserve Communion -- you're the ones who need it." He used that to talk about the "other", which he defined in this sense as "anyone we don't like," including Fundamentalist-Evangelical-Right-Wingers. "We are called to be a people of radical acceptance, to love the other."
My heart cracked wide open, because I've been thinking a lot about service lately. In the past 4 1/2 years as I've been trying to "figure myself out," I've been a bit self-centered, or at least, haven't had the urge to serve others when I felt that I myself was not being served. (There's that sin of not allowing God to Love me again!) But, I've had an urge lately to go beyond myself in the way I love. It's a simple understanding, and a place I haven't been since college.
I think I discounted a lot of GOOD stuff when I started dealing with the causes of my anxiety in 1999. Discipline is not a bad thing, but the way I was using it at the time was. Striving for perfection is not bad thing, but not appreciating progress (which is the only measure) was. Now, I'm starting to reincorporate those things I set aside. I'm finding discipline, I'm enjoying the process, I want to get outside of myself.
After confession the other night, I tried to go down and use the Taize prayer service to calm me and to aid my prayer. But I needed some time to wander. The Church was mostly empty, so I visited the side altars and statues. I knelt before the statue of the Immaculate Conception, and had the OVERWHELMING sense of being a little child looking up to a parent. A child doesn't earn a parent's love -- a child simply is loved, and is secure in that love. It's when we get "smarter" that we start to think that we're not worthy of that.
There was the washing of the feet, which was also an extremely emotional thing for me. I was behind a girl I didn't know, and my friend Kenny was behind me. At first, I expected I'd wash her feet and he'd wash mine. That would be OK -- I think I was more comfortable to serve someone who didn't know me because they didn't know my faults. But when it turned out to be the other way around -- being served by a stranger, and serving a friend who knows me and my brokenness. I'm getting teary just writing it. This touches me much more deeply than I understand at this point.
Of course the music was just what I needed. A lot of Taize -- meditative, repetitive. There's something about saying "Ubi caritas deus ibi est" ("where charity and love prevail, God is there") over and over again that is just SO peaceful. Then we sang the AMAZING Durufle Ubi Caritas, which didn't help the tears any. The Schola sang Tallis' If ye love me, and our voices blended so well, so clearly, it really was as if we were singing with a single voice. Then, there was Bruckner's Christus factus est (Kenny's favorite piece EVER). To hear the text "super omne nomen" ("above every other name") again and again in so many different ways just made me think of how much Christ loved us.
Christ's love. That's a new concept. Whenever I read Jesus' words, I've always thought of them as "rebukes." Kind of like, "Why don't you get this? You're so stupid and it's so simple!" Maybe that's why I never fully understood everyone who talked about "Jesus' love." But I'm beginning to understand the loving, caring Jesus. Even in the Bach that I'm working on right now, I have a much more compassionate understanding of Jesus words than I ever have. When Jesus tells Peter, "You will deny me," it's not with anger, but with compassion. He says, "Peter, I know you better than you know yourself. Even though you will disappoint yourself, and think you have disappointed me, I will still love you."
That's a message I need to hear, and a good transition into Good Friday, the Passion, the adoration of the Cross, and Tenebrae -- the "Service of darkness."