Holy Thursday Reflection

Holy Thursday marks the start of the holiest days in the year for Christians everywhere. Tonight at St. Theresa’s, the little Catholic church I attend in the middle of nowhere, I’ll sit in the choir section, singing and and participating in a ritual that’s happening all over the world. It’s one of the great joys and beauties of being Catholic – the comfort of a truly worldwide family, participating in the Lord’s Last Supper with you, everywhere. It’s the comfort of holy ritual. The Mass begins as it always does, but midway through, it changes. We are suddenly confronted with the symbolism of Christ at the last supper in the form of the priest, kneeling and washing the feet of people, like the slaves in Jesus’ time did. And when you think about – the Master who was honored with hosannas as he entered Jerusalem washing the dirty, smelly, nasty feet of the disciples (in the days of walking around in sandals through dirt and animal dung) but a few days later, you get a much better glimpse into the deeper truth into his actions. What we are supposed to do for one another, not just pay lip service to. It’s ritual with meaning.

We had another Holy Thursday night ritual growing up; the ritual of finding the un-holey sock. My dad was an usher at our church for many, many years. He was also one of the “apostles” getting his feet washed on Holy Thursday night. I was the only kid in the family who attended that Mass. I’d stand with my dad in the bedroom, and we’d look together through his socks to find one without the big toe poked out. Hey, if you have to take your shoes and socks off in front of your entire church, might as well find a nice pair!

The last time we did that ritual together, my dad kind of ruined it for me. He’s bought a new pair of Gold Toe socks at J.C. Penney. It wasn’t the same – unwrapping them – but it certainly saved time.

In all seriousness, the symbolism of the priest taking off his fancy robes, tying a towel or an apron around himself, kneeling and washing the feet of people who volunteer their time and talents during the year at church is always very moving for me. Deacon Greg had a wonderful homily on Beliefnet today which I will link to for the real, deep meaning of this symbolism. It’s service, pure and simple. I often joke that I’m the world’s worst Catholic, which means don’t look to me to be an expert. I’m still learning. I can, however, link you over to Deacon Greg’s homily – let the deacon explain it. He does a great job. The Anchoress today also had a wonderful thought-provoking piece about the contemplation of the crucifix that is well worth the time to read it. I write stories about the people I knew in between tales from the garden; I don’t think I could pull together essays the way they do. So learn from them, and return here for a humble, butt-in-the pew Catholic trying to muddle through Christianity as best she can and not make too much of a mess of it.

With love on this blessed start to our holy days,
– Jeanne