Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper

What I will miss most this evening while my community celebrates Holy Thursday is singing the Pange Lingua in procession.  The reading of John 13:1-15 and the corresponding liturgy of "foot-washing" that accompanies that proclamation vividly reminds me of the meaning of the meal and the cross.  But it is my bodily participation in that procession that gets at me from the inside out.

I follow.
There is an itinerary.  I connect myself to something ancient…and so anti-modern.  I follow because there is something on the horizon I long for.  I need a map.  Various routes to take but a horizon worth keeping in sight.

I bump up against.
There are others.  I don't know them all.  Some are complete strangers and with a little imagination I sense time and space collapsing.  I sing words from the 13th century and I know new-old companions.  I am so not alone.

I ponder leftovers.
We all ate and drank together.  What leads is leftovers.  The leftovers we honor even more.  So odd.  But eating half of anything always guarantees that half will be left.  There will be plenty.

My prayer tonight... 

That the hospital will be my church community  

That there I will enter a procession…following a path toward a broken world restored  

That I will be wondrously filled with the Word incarnate 

That what passes between me and patient/staff/family goes where the senses cannot lead 

That the night is punctuated with wonder and silence  

That I will learn how to adore

Amen