In the grand scheme of things, all that really matters is this one day.
Three days. One motion. Into violence, an explosion of grace and into something crazy.
Are you ready?
Three days. One motion. Into violence, an explosion of grace and into something crazy.
Are you ready?
Here's how we do this finale of Lent, this getting ready for Easter thing.
First of all, Fr. Robert Barron tells us - refuse to domesticate it. I used to love pastels and Easter eggs. Glittery pink dresses and shiny paper grass. Call me cynical, call me in love, call me exaggerating, but now I have to try to not find them offensive. It's worse than Santa Claus representing a baby born with a death sentence because of me - a rabbit as the symbol of my corpse rising from the dead.
This is personal, this is real. This is why you haven't eaten meat. This is why you didn't marry that person, why you did marry the person you wanted to be a parent with. This is why you didn't go to that school, moved into that house, ate that for breakfast. This is why your life has followed the path it is to every minutia and every sun beam that has passed over your face.
Every Christian disciple needs to answer that fundamental question: Why do you follow? In the words of Chris Tomlin, why did you pledge, "If this life I lose, I will follow you." Why? Who is worth re-ordering your life, the inconvenience, the struggle?
This. This Lord, in One Day, in three movements. This is why. Why you breathe. Why you pause. Why you aren't the person you could have been, used to be. This has made all the difference to your body, your family, your intake, your exhale. This is who you are.
You're Holy Thursday. How? Because you're sacrificial love.
A clean towel.
The one and only priest standing without His outer garment.
Vulnerability, sacrifice, cleansing.
Love, at the ready.
You are a mother, letting someone else have life even in your death.
Their confusion, doubt, misunderstanding, rolling eyes, refusal, betrayal, disrespect, condescension, inability to listen: you are bread for others to eat.
Holy Thursday is the scrub down. It hurts, like Eustace having his dragon scales peeled off in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.
First of all, Fr. Robert Barron tells us - refuse to domesticate it. I used to love pastels and Easter eggs. Glittery pink dresses and shiny paper grass. Call me cynical, call me in love, call me exaggerating, but now I have to try to not find them offensive. It's worse than Santa Claus representing a baby born with a death sentence because of me - a rabbit as the symbol of my corpse rising from the dead.
This is personal, this is real. This is why you haven't eaten meat. This is why you didn't marry that person, why you did marry the person you wanted to be a parent with. This is why you didn't go to that school, moved into that house, ate that for breakfast. This is why your life has followed the path it is to every minutia and every sun beam that has passed over your face.
Every Christian disciple needs to answer that fundamental question: Why do you follow? In the words of Chris Tomlin, why did you pledge, "If this life I lose, I will follow you." Why? Who is worth re-ordering your life, the inconvenience, the struggle?
This. This Lord, in One Day, in three movements. This is why. Why you breathe. Why you pause. Why you aren't the person you could have been, used to be. This has made all the difference to your body, your family, your intake, your exhale. This is who you are.
You're Holy Thursday. How? Because you're sacrificial love.
A clean towel.
The one and only priest standing without His outer garment.
Vulnerability, sacrifice, cleansing.
Love, at the ready.
You are a mother, letting someone else have life even in your death.
Their confusion, doubt, misunderstanding, rolling eyes, refusal, betrayal, disrespect, condescension, inability to listen: you are bread for others to eat.
Holy Thursday is the scrub down. It hurts, like Eustace having his dragon scales peeled off in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.
The very first tear he made was so deep and I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know – if you've ever picked the scab of a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.
Chapter 7, 41-42
Chapter 7, 41-42
Birth isn't pretty. Bath time isn't pretty. But we must be cleansed, that we might be one with Him.
He's about to give us a gift beyond our understanding, we must subject ourselves to His shocking humility. His senseless leadership. The opposite way, the backwards surrender, falling into hands of hate.
If you have ever prayed to Jesus, Don't. I'm not worth it. You are Holy Thursday, the mass of the Lord's Supper. The mass of the Lord's priesthood. His institution of the Eucharist, of celibacy, of love that will carry you. No - you're right. He probably shouldn't have. And if the world had won, if the world was the victor, if Peter was right, He wouldn't have.
But He did.
He left us a body to eat. As real as His incarnation, is His transubstantiation. He left us nourishment and service and exactly what we would need as a Church. Our principle, our dedication.
I, your Lord and Master now become your servant.
I who made the moon and stars must kneel to wash your feet.
This is my commandment - to love as I have loved you.
Kneel to wash each other's feet as I have done for you.
Today, pray a Hail Mary for Purity. A Hail Mary for Modesty. A Hail Mary for Integrity.
You need her today, to be able to hear what you are worth.