Judas is neither a master of evil nor the figure of a demoniacal power of darkness but rather a sycophant who bows down before the anonymous power of changing moods and current fashion. But it is precisely this anonymous power that crucified Jesus, for it was the anonymous voices that cried, "Away with him! Crucify him!"
Pope Benedict XVI
Showing posts with label Holy Thursday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Holy Thursday. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
Well Said: Judas
Friday, March 21, 2008
A Couple of Things from Holy Thursday
Yes, I know I said I was checking out. But I just wanted to share a couple of things.
I have written before about what happens during the Mass on Holy Thursday and also of the feelings I have had.
This year was very different for me in a couple of ways.
First, I was fixing dinner and rather absent mindedly realizing that I hadn't tried that hard during Lent. Not quite "wasted" it but close enough. I tossed off an off-handed prayer (yeah, the kind that always boomerang ... God is just waiting for me to ask) that he do what I needed to bring me closer to him.
Not ten minutes later the phone rang. It was my mother-in-law asking to be taken to Mass that evening. First of all, I know it sounds shameful that we already hadn't planned to take her, but she had taken to always having something "wrong" whenever it we'd call to say that we were coming on Sunday morning. Quite often, because of her short-term memory loss and the routine of her assisted living home she doesn't even realize what day it is. So I'd kind of mentally scratched her off the list of people to check.
No problem. We would set our routine into high-gear and get her. Then she asked about Stations of the Cross for Good Friday. Rose knew that they would be at 3:00. Of course, the time that has been commemorated always as the time that Christ died. I had planned to spend that hour in quiet meditation and prayer. For the first time ever, I'd actually remembered to try to do something at that time. I had been mentally patting myself on the back.
The Stations of the Cross. I'd had one or two experiences with them a long time ago. Maybe I was Christian then? Maybe not. What I remembered was a lot of up and down kneeling and sore legs the next day. It had left me with a permanent bad taste in my mouth. Although I always find myself attracted to written (and spoken ... thank you Laura H.) meditations for the Stations. I have a permanent bad attitude about attending the Stations of the Cross.
Now my mother-in-law was determined to go. And I mentally looked up at heaven and shook my fist at God. Oh, thank you sooo much! And mentally, I could hear the gentle, amused laughter and "You asked. I'm just answering."
I also realized during Mass that I was remembering those previous sad reflections and trying to force some sort of feeling. Just the sort of thing that I would instantly tell anyone else not to do. Whenever I caught myself I would then force relaxation and ask God for just a word to take away. I had resigned myself to my first-ever intellectual experience of Holy Thursday. Then I realized that the priest's entire homily, excellent as always, was about service to other. How in experiencing Jesus' service to us and his love, we must show it to others. And I thought of my mother-in-law. Who was asking for my service, not only in the Holy Thursday Mass but for Stations of the Cross and in other ways as well. I realized that I had fallen into a habit of begrudging service more often than forcing past it and looking for the big picture. I had gotten lazy and I had gotten small minded about it.
Well, that was a word spoken to my heart for sure. One that I would use to shake myself into new awareness. Toward the end, another sentence refined this point for me. "We are called to have our eyes opened and our hearts set afire."
Which was just what that earlier realization made me eager to do.
Nice going, Father L., preaching a homily straight to me.
Of course, you know that made me relax, thinking I had gotten the "goods" so to speak from that Mass. Then during my time kneeling after Communion and through the rest of the Mass, my heart was set afire. I thought of how Jesus says, " I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you ..." (Luke 22:15). I almost always think of that when I am kneeling waiting for the Eucharist.
Then the dismissal prayer (can't find the text right now) said something like, "May this Eucharist bring us to fullness of life and joy..."
Which was when I began brimming with exactly that. A realization of how rich and full my life was after I let Jesus take charge of it. How I was truly more "myself" than I had ever been and that I knew I would just become more and more so if I kept striving. What I felt was gratitude but most of all what I felt was pure, overwhelming joy and happiness. Which I somehow felt that Jesus was feeling underneath all the pain and agony and suffering that he knew was coming ... a deep joy at being able to bring this to us and to share it with us. (Which resonated even more this morning when I was posting the Good Friday meditation and felt a shocked recognition ... for the first time I understood that joy which is written about there.)
Which brought me to love. How can I not love Him for that? And that was what I felt more than all the others. Love.
I have written before about what happens during the Mass on Holy Thursday and also of the feelings I have had.
This year was very different for me in a couple of ways.
First, I was fixing dinner and rather absent mindedly realizing that I hadn't tried that hard during Lent. Not quite "wasted" it but close enough. I tossed off an off-handed prayer (yeah, the kind that always boomerang ... God is just waiting for me to ask) that he do what I needed to bring me closer to him.
Not ten minutes later the phone rang. It was my mother-in-law asking to be taken to Mass that evening. First of all, I know it sounds shameful that we already hadn't planned to take her, but she had taken to always having something "wrong" whenever it we'd call to say that we were coming on Sunday morning. Quite often, because of her short-term memory loss and the routine of her assisted living home she doesn't even realize what day it is. So I'd kind of mentally scratched her off the list of people to check.
No problem. We would set our routine into high-gear and get her. Then she asked about Stations of the Cross for Good Friday. Rose knew that they would be at 3:00. Of course, the time that has been commemorated always as the time that Christ died. I had planned to spend that hour in quiet meditation and prayer. For the first time ever, I'd actually remembered to try to do something at that time. I had been mentally patting myself on the back.
The Stations of the Cross. I'd had one or two experiences with them a long time ago. Maybe I was Christian then? Maybe not. What I remembered was a lot of up and down kneeling and sore legs the next day. It had left me with a permanent bad taste in my mouth. Although I always find myself attracted to written (and spoken ... thank you Laura H.) meditations for the Stations. I have a permanent bad attitude about attending the Stations of the Cross.
Now my mother-in-law was determined to go. And I mentally looked up at heaven and shook my fist at God. Oh, thank you sooo much! And mentally, I could hear the gentle, amused laughter and "You asked. I'm just answering."
I also realized during Mass that I was remembering those previous sad reflections and trying to force some sort of feeling. Just the sort of thing that I would instantly tell anyone else not to do. Whenever I caught myself I would then force relaxation and ask God for just a word to take away. I had resigned myself to my first-ever intellectual experience of Holy Thursday. Then I realized that the priest's entire homily, excellent as always, was about service to other. How in experiencing Jesus' service to us and his love, we must show it to others. And I thought of my mother-in-law. Who was asking for my service, not only in the Holy Thursday Mass but for Stations of the Cross and in other ways as well. I realized that I had fallen into a habit of begrudging service more often than forcing past it and looking for the big picture. I had gotten lazy and I had gotten small minded about it.
Well, that was a word spoken to my heart for sure. One that I would use to shake myself into new awareness. Toward the end, another sentence refined this point for me. "We are called to have our eyes opened and our hearts set afire."
Which was just what that earlier realization made me eager to do.
Nice going, Father L., preaching a homily straight to me.
Of course, you know that made me relax, thinking I had gotten the "goods" so to speak from that Mass. Then during my time kneeling after Communion and through the rest of the Mass, my heart was set afire. I thought of how Jesus says, " I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you ..." (Luke 22:15). I almost always think of that when I am kneeling waiting for the Eucharist.
Then the dismissal prayer (can't find the text right now) said something like, "May this Eucharist bring us to fullness of life and joy..."
Which was when I began brimming with exactly that. A realization of how rich and full my life was after I let Jesus take charge of it. How I was truly more "myself" than I had ever been and that I knew I would just become more and more so if I kept striving. What I felt was gratitude but most of all what I felt was pure, overwhelming joy and happiness. Which I somehow felt that Jesus was feeling underneath all the pain and agony and suffering that he knew was coming ... a deep joy at being able to bring this to us and to share it with us. (Which resonated even more this morning when I was posting the Good Friday meditation and felt a shocked recognition ... for the first time I understood that joy which is written about there.)
Which brought me to love. How can I not love Him for that? And that was what I felt more than all the others. Love.
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