Maundy Thursday 2008
Maundy
Thursday is always my favorite holy day
And I always
talk about eating.
And often I
get too long winded and go on and on and people wonder when I’ll ever finish.
Something
about ‘meals’ keeps me talking beyond what is necessary.
So, this year
I wrote it down so it would be controlled and less than 10 minutes and you
wouldn’t have to wonder if I’d wandered off into some crack in my brain and
wouldn’t be back for a while!
Easter dinner
is special in our home. We aren’t surrounded by ‘family’ so we have invented a
‘family’ for holidays. We have friends who come to share our table on
Thanksgiving and Christmas and, most of all, for me, on Easter.
John will be
there—a friend of mine since college who lives in New Haven and is a Warden at
Christ Church. West Virginians through and through—John and I. We have a patois
that is Mountain Talk that few can follow if they didn’t grow up in that lush
and deserted place.
He’ll call me
and say, “Hey, Jem….”
And I’ll
answer, “Hey, Jonn…” and we’re off and running about the dogs that won’t hunt
and the crazy aunts and stuff no one else understands.
Jack and
Sherry will be there—our friends who we met when we lived in New Haven. They
are southerners—Virginia and South Carolina. They usually bring a country ham
and dandelion risotto for Easter dinner. But they’ll be getting back from a
trip to Italy and Greece and won’t have time to cook this year.
I know John
and Jack and Sherry as well as I know myself. We rub against each other in ways
that make life make sense.
And Mimi will
be there. My ‘princess’, my love, my precious girl. She is nearing 30 but she
is still my baby girl. An hour with Mimi is like an eternity in heaven for me.
I love her so. She is so wondrous—did you know she has become a girl scout
leader in Brooklyn for young girls from the projects? She raises money for the
American Ballet Theater for a living, but she embraces young girls who need a
mentor to make her life meaningful. She is so precious to me I can hardly speak
of her without weeping. And she will be at the table.
This year, we
will have ‘family’. Uncle Frankie and his son, Anthony—Bern’s favorite cousin,
and his daughter Francis and her life-partner Lisa will be at the table. They
hale from West Virginia but all live in Rhode Island now. They will be there,
bringing memories and stories that would otherwise not be there.
And that is
what the meal is about, after all, the telling of stories to help us ‘remember’
and to give us hope to go on. And we will eat the ham (both 'country' and fresh) and the onion pie and the
deviled eggs and the salad and the scalloped potatoes and tell the stories and
be present—so remarkably present—to what is alive and real and wondrous, even
in the sad stories of Aunt Annie’s death and the fact that Josh and Cathy and
our granddaughters, Morgan and Emma are in Taiwan this Easter and not with us.
They will gather around other tables—not to celebrate the resurrection because
they are either Buddhists or nothing at all—but they will gather around a table
to eat and tell stories and love each other and be present—so present—to the
heart of God.
That’s what
this night is about. How being around a table, sharing food, telling stories,
loving each other, hoping for the future, wondering what happens next….
That’s what
this night’s about. A table set and full of food. Family and friends gathered.
Passing the bread, sharing the wine….wondering what will happen next.
Because Jesus
sat around that table so long ago and shared his body and his blood with those
he loved and those he would never know.
Just sitting
at a table, eating with those you love, is a holy thing. A holy thing. A holy
thing. Remember that always. Remember
that. Remember…
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