Maundy Thursday Reflection

Now that Holy Week has come and passed, I'm able to catch my breath a little bit and catch up on the things that didn't get done last week.

But before this Holy Week is a too distant memory, I also want to make sure I write about some of the things I (and we) experienced.

The first experience of the week that really caught my attention happened during the sharing of Communion at our Maundy Thursday Tenebrae service on Thursday evening. In case you don't know, Maundy Thursday is the day when we remember and celebrate Jesus' last meal with his disciples. This is the meal that we remember when we share in the Lord's Supper. At Fourth Church, Maundy Thursday is also when we observe the traditional Tenebrae service, which involves the gradual extinguishing of candles until the sanctuary is left in darkness. Both elements--the last meal and the darkness--make this quite a powerful service. (Some churches also participate in the washing of feet, an even that also happened at Jesus' last meal with his disciples.)

A funny thing happened this year as I took the bread and juice of our Communion. Instead of just thinking about the original meal that our observance commemorates, my mind was swept away into a series of memories of all the Communions I've shared in over my years.

My first thought was of the Southern Baptist Church that I attended when I was in high school. Though I have changed a lot since those days and I currently disagree with much of what that church believes and how it practices its faith, it was very influential for me as a teenager. It was there that Christian faith first began to mean something real to me. It was there that I began to feel the call to ministry. It was there that I shared the Lord's Supper with friends and family.

I then thought of a Communion of tortillas and real wine at a small Baptist church in Cancun, Mexico. I had naively led my senior class on a trip to Cancun, which turned out to be quite an experience. On the Sunday we were there I found my way to a Baptist church in the central part of the city, not the tourist area. They graciously welcomed me in. I didn't speak a bit of Spanish, but I felt the Spirit move in that service. It was an eye opener for me in many respects, my first religious experience in an environment very different from the comfort of my home.

My next thought was of the Communions of pita bread and wine at the Narkis Street Congregation, the church I worshiped at when I lived in Jerusalem. That, too, was an incredibly formative time in my life and that church was truly a sanctuary for me as I grew in new directions, both spiritually and academically.

There are many more I could mention and describe, but you get the picture.

What was powerful for me on Thursday night was that this was much more than just a trip down memory lane. This rush of memories and emotions and tastes reminded me that all of these faith communities, as different as they are, are all bound together by love--God's love for us, our love for God, and our love for each other.

This is a big part of what Communion is all about. We may differ about many things, but our common calling in faith binds us together as one.

As I write this, my Eastertide prayer is that the church throughout the world might truly act as if this mysterious unity of Communion were real in their hearts. And in doing so, we might show the world what humans can do when inspired by love for God and love for each other.