Why is it we are always hungriest on days when we are supposed to be fasting?
Last night I went to the Maundy Thursday Mass at my parish. I’d gone last year, but apart from the part where the priests wash the feet of some of the parishioners, I hardly remembered a thing about it. Part of that, I think, was that I was something of an emotional wreck that night. I’m not even sure why. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that I knew I wasn’t going to be receiving the sacrament of Confirmation with the rest of my RCIA class at the Easter Vigil. (That’s a long story—kind of boring, nothing remotely scandalous—-maybe I’ll tell it another day.) Maybe it was just because I was sitting near the back of the church. Whatever the reason, I guess I just missed a lot, because last night was something of a revelation.
What a beautiful Mass! I didn’t think we were going to get the incense until the Vigil (rumor has it Father M- isn’t fond of incense), but it was there in abundance last night. The music was beautiful, featuring the men’s choir. Father C- gave an inspiring homily—which was also a bit funny, because he made a point of chastising folks who leave Mass early; but his point was that we need that final blessing before we head out into the world to live out our faith. The various oils of anointing were blessed and consecrated—that was neat, and reminded me of the chrism oil I received on my forehead, with the sign of the cross, at my Confirmation; it smelled so good I didn’t want to wash it off but finally had to when it started to run into my eyebrows!
After Mass, I stayed for Reconciliation. This was only my 4th Confession, and I’m still awkward about it. Coming from the Protestant tradition, my tendency is to want to say, “Oh, well, I already confessed all my sin to God; I don’t need to talk to a priest.” But I know that my sin is not just against God but also against His Body, His people, the Church, and so for that, I must ask forgiveness of Christ’s vicar in the Church (the priest). And anyway, even though preparation for Confession is always a bit stressful, once I hear those words of absolution, it’s like a 50-pound weight has been removed from my shoulders.
My first three Reconciliations were all with Father M-. The way he does it is to pray first, to ask the Holy Spirit to be present. Then he attentively listens to the confession. He’s always given me the same penance—to thank God for my life and my faith and to ask Him to help me and guide me as I grow closer to Christ (something like that). It’s an easy penance, indeed, but of course it means nothing if I don’t pray it with my whole heart and honestly seek to do better.
Well, last night I ended up going to Father C- for Reconciliation. The ladies had stripped the altar right after Mass, the lights were low, and there was some Gregorian chant or something playing quietly over the loud speakers. I think this mellow mood must have had quite an impact on me, for when I sat down to talk to Father C-, I found I was completely at ease. I was not a nervous wreck (as I usually am). All the jumble of stuff in my mind seemed to crystallize into just a few sentences, and Father C- immediately picked up on what I was saying and was able to offer a bit of counsel and insight into the reason for my sin. Father M- usually doesn’t say anything, so I find myself babbling on and on until I get so uncomfortable that I finally decide I’d better just hush up (that’s my issue, though, not Father M-’s). But Reconciliation with Father C- was a different thing altogether.
And then there was my penance. He told me he wanted me to spend one hour (a whole hour!) asking God to give me the grace to be thankful, asking Him to show me all the blessings I have. He said at first I would probably just list the basic stuff (family, friends), but that eventually I would be drawn deeper into the Mystery of God’s mercy.
He was right. Knowing how busy my days tend to be, and knowing I would like to have this penance completed before I receive Communion again (which may well be tonight), I decided to do it while I was on my walk this morning. So I walked and enjoyed God’s nature, and He walked beside me and gave me oh-so-many things to be thankful for. Some of it was basic stuff, but some of it went deeper.
One thing occurred to me as I was walking up a steep hill. Hard work, that, and I was getting out of breath. But it made me think of how Jesus carried the cross all that way. How he was exhausted and beaten up and in excruciating pain. He could have just fallen down and refused to get up. Maybe they would have stoned him right there, or had him scourged again. That could have been the end of it. But he carried that heavy cross the whole way. He didn’t give up, even in the midst of that enormous suffering, so that today we have his beautiful example to follow.
I was given further insight into this same train of thought when I watched “The Passion, by Radix” on EWTN later in the morning. It’s a one-man show, all about Christ’s suffering. I didn’t see the beginning, but I saw most of it. This incredible storyteller is standing there on a simple set, and he tells the story and acts out the entire Passion of Christ, all by himself.
He was pouring sweat. I mean POURING. But it was amazing. And when he came to the part where Jesus is carrying the crossbeam, he talked about how Simon of Cyrene was pulled out of the crowd and told to help. I had never thought of this before, but he mentioned how, in order to help Jesus, he would have been shoulder-to-shoulder with the Lord, close enough to feel the thorns sticking out of the torturous crown Jesus wore. He showed how we are like Simon—when we are carrying a cross of our own, Christ is right there beside us. He shares in our suffering just as we can share in His when we offer it up to Him. And we should never give up, because He doesn’t.
I have never seen the movie The Passion of the Christ. I know I should, and someday I will. But as it is, I was practically sobbing by the end of this presentation by Radix—and this was just one man, talking and moving about a stage, with just some music and a few sound effects to aid him in making it come to life. There was no blood, nothing from which one might have to shield her eyes. I don’t know how I will manage to watch The Passion….without completely falling apart.
Anyway. Remembering the monumental sacrifice of Jesus puts all this fasting stuff into perspective, that’s for sure. What a small thing—the least we can do to show the Lord how grateful we are for His gift to us, how sorry we are for our sins.
God be with you on this Good Friday, my friends. Aren’t we blessed indeed to know how the story turns out?
