Friday, April 06, 2007

Maundy Thursday Reflections




We went to a Maundy Thursday service at our church last night. I had worked most of the afternoon at a Starbucks in the Mall, filling in a shift for another manager. Dennis came in to meet Bob for a little while I finished up my shift. After dinner, we headed to our church for the Maundy Thursday program.


I have had a tough time lately, troubled by my hardheartedness. I've been worried that everything spiritual is starting to sound the same, and that I'm not listening as attentively as I used to. I had no expectations that my dryness would be healed, but I've been open. So, we sang about God's love and went through the readings and the sermon. Instead of God, I kept thinking about Mom.


As the lights dimmed in the room as the evening progressed, I remembered a Good Friday mass that Mom brought me to when I was 9. With all that was going on--her job, moving for Dad's new job in Washington state, maybe a new baby sibling, I was getting lost in the shuffle a bit. So, it was attention I wasn't used to getting and as we received communion together, it was a time of real bonding. Even though I had not come to really believing yet, Mom was bringing me to a deeper understanding of Jesus. She also successfully reached a part of me that was drifting further away from the family.


Our pastor spoke of God's love exceeding all loves we as humans experience. Mom had a way of bringing me back whenever I drifted off, which I often do. I believe the Holy Spirit reminded me that Mom really loved me, and God loves me infinitely more. He is fully aware of me and what I'm like, and knows how to reach me and re-connect me to His heart. It's nothing that I can do for myself.

Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear,
Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good
cheer.
The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay.

I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame
And every time I pass that way I always hear my name.
Then onward in my journey I come to understand
That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand.

--Bob Dylan, Every Grain of Sand from Shot of Love

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