April 9, 2020
One of my early childhood memories is my dad taking me by the hand for Holy Thursday Services at our German parish, Holy Redeemer. Elaborate ceremonies, processions, stripping the altar, the tabernacle gaping open with the reservation of the Blessed Sacrament in an elaborate altar of reservation (pictured).
All the children had to plunder flowers from gardens to adorn the shrine. “This is Jesus in jail after he was arrested, and we must keep him company,” is how my father explained it to me. We walked to churches in neighborhoods I was forbidden to cross the street to visit: St. Michael’s, St. Theresa, St. Jehoshaphat, St. Mark, St. Henry, St. Stanislaus (I may not have all the names correct). We visited Jesus in his side altar jail in each church, saying a prayer, keeping him company.
All of that is 60 years ago and stands in sharp contrast with Holy Thursday this year. It is the meaning of this contrast that I preach today.
Lonely
Passover and Holy Thursday are lonely this year.
Empty places at the table, more matzoh than anyone needs,
Who will read the Haggadah?
Why is tonight different from every other night?
The choir, flowers, music, processions, night vigils, all missing,
That is what’s different.
The washing of the feet-missing, the Eucharist-missing.
“Do this in memory of me” Jesus tells us,
But not this year. Not for most of us.
We are by ourselves,
with only our memories, our faith, our trust,
that with everything gone, God remains, and we remain
Connected, to God and each another,
Connected to generations stretching to Moses.
Connected to Jesus in a way, perhaps,
we haven’t felt before.
Before the night is over Jesus would have nothing, and no one,
Surrounded by forces bent on destroying him.
He was left with his memories, his faith, his trust
In the God of love for whom there was no evidence at all.
Connected to God only by love
Jesus remains connected to us by love,
a love that connects us to each other
when there is no evidence but our faith, our trust
in love that is life given in service, forgiveness, and kindness.
This year our covid-19 plague pushes us apart
from celebrating traditions of faith.
It also pushes us closer to the place Jesus stood
on the night before he dies,
A place of memory, faith and trust in life, his life, our life
A life of love, bread broken, blood spilled, given for others.
Now it is our life, joined with his,
that is bread broken and blood spilled
In nourishment and forgiveness of others,
In remembrance of Him. Amen.