This week commemorates the most beautiful week–the week Jesus died for humanity.
We try to honor this. We fail, but we try. We pull together all that we know to be beautiful–candles and song and community and centuries-old prayer and symbol and silence. We fall short of adoring this mystery, but we are the people who offered you only a manger, Jesus, so I know your expectations come from a realistic place.
Tonight, Thursday, we recall the Last Supper–priesthood, the Eucharist, the washing of feet. I sat and tried to quiet my riled-up thoughts about jobCaminohealth…eventually, I focused. And I stared at a larger-than-life crucifix with my sister standing on the very last pew behind me. I sang a song to the Father: “Abba, Abba,” and I cried because by golly this year has been hard.
It was a priest friend of mine who once told me, “The hardest prayer to pray is ‘Thy will be done’.”
And, Jesus prayed it. Tonight we remember that He loved His own “until the end,” washed their feet, and prayed these words to the Father.
Blessed be the Lord, the God of our Fathers.
He has come to His people to set them free.