Holy Thursday
Holy Thursday began, and begins again, the memory of the last three days of Jesus's earth life. Tonight we celebrate the final meal the Passover celebration of the release from slavery of the Hebrew slaves of Egypt. That meal at which so many things are remembered that transpired.
Among these many things are:
The washing of the feet. What?
The encounter with Judas, who betrayed him. Why?
The transformation of the bread and wine. How?
The prediction of the defection of them all. Really?
Finally, his arrest and interrogation. For what?
In this short writing I want to briefly mention a visceral experience of a Holy Thursday liturgy. As a 15 year old and at the very first time this Holy Thursday liturgy was celebrated in the vernacular i.e. English language I was simply stunned and shocked at the washing of the feet. Even today, 60 years later, this part of the ritual still stirs and startles me.
Over the years I have participated in this liturgy in a variety of settings and still I am most uncomfortable in doing it.
I had the privilege of living in India, Bangalore City, for almost 6 years while I taught at the Franciscan institute there and studied spirituality in the local secular university. Over those years I developed some programs around the person of Clare of Assisi, the first Franciscan woman, and invariably I was invited to the Poor Clare monasteries to give retreats and/or classes. Poor Clare monasteries tend to be located in remote and quiet places. In India the population around the monasteries would quite often be Hindu, Muslim and/or tribal. As a foreigner I would be brought by my friar or sister companion to meet the local mayor, chieftain or religious leader. Especially in the tribal villages it was the custom that the oldest woman in the village would greet the visitors, female and male, and wash and dry their feet, as a matter of welcome. My first encounter with this saw me refuse to leave the jeep until the abbess herself came from the monastery and required that I accept this greeting! Until this day I remember I endured it with my eyes squeezed shut. It was a very humbling experience, one that I only reluctantly agreed to accept, and only slowly grew to understand.
A few months ago in the movie theatres and now on NETFLIX there is a film entitled "Women Talking".
I had read an article about this film in the NY TIMES which gave a lengthy description of the plot and warned the reader that the story was true, actual events made accessible through Hollywood. We were warned that the contents were brutal in parts. This viewer was warned. (I later read the book and in it's simplicity it was yet more stark and shocking.)
What I was not prepared for occurred in the first 10 minutes of the film which colored the development and presentation of the entire story. There had been a situation within the Mennonite village in rural Bolivia which resulted in some of the men being arrested by the local civil authorities and all the men over the age of 15 were in the city 8 hours away. They traveled by buggy and carriage with money to bail the prisoners out. The women had decided among themselves that they wanted to have an opinion and discussed how they would respond to the men when they returned. All of the women gathered and voted, placing the X (since none of them had been allowed to learn to read, write or speak Spanish) under which of the three responses they would make.
The startling manner in which they began their discussions was to wash feet. The women all kneeling washed then dried and kissed the feet of her neighbor while singing inspired Christian hymns. This, the prayerful beginning of the encounter would radically change their lives, done in imitation of the last day of their Savior's life and the transformation of his community and theirs.
As they washed and sang they were indeed remembering Jesus's final words "do this in memory of me".
Bro Tom Barton, OSF
Franciscan Brothers of Brooklyn
Beautifully said!
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