MAUNDY Thursday

Holy week continues and now gets to the serious, familiar, celebrated portions of the week.
What do you call the Thursday of Holy Week?
My Catholic friends refer to it as "Holy Thursday."  For all of my growing up years and adulthood, I learned and in turn responded by referring to the Thursday of Holy Week as "Maundy Thursday." As one tends to do, I just always called it that and honestly had no idea why or what the word "maundy" meant.

Maundy is the shortened version of the Latin word maundatum and means commandment. I prefer the term being commissioned.
My first clergy appointment was at Bakerstown UMC where a major part of my ministry was to lead the youth program.  Every summer, the Senior High Youth would go on a week long mission trip to West Virginina.  This was serious Appalachian, back country WVA --- it was the kind of place where the roads were marked "Old Country Road 37" and if one listened extra close one heard banjo music (I always thought we should've made the youth watch 'DELIVERANCE" prior to the trip). The mission trips were always incredible opportunities and every year two very important things happened: active ministry and building community.
The Sunday before leaving for the Mission Trip the group was always commissioned duirng the morning worship service.  The team stood in the front of the sanctuary.  Prayers were offered and the Mission Team made promises to be in service as ministers of the Gospel of Jesus. It was an inhale moment of this is serious stuff we are about to do.

The commissioning of Maundy Thursday is "to love one another as Christ has loved you." Gulp.
To remind congregants of this promise, I would wash the feet of others. I've heard some clergy instead have persons wash the hands of one another (imagine that in these days and times) yet I always found that a total "wuss move;" to capture the intention, the humbling of one's self as a servant, get down on your knees and wash some feet!

So, I would be in the back of the sanctuary with a basin, several pitchers of water and several towels. Those desiring to have their feet washed would remove their shoes and socks and sit on the chair while I knelt and poured water over and rubbed and washed their feet and looked into their eyes and affirmed them.

For me this was one of my most impactful ministry moments. I recall washing the feet of a mom and the feet of her infant daughter.  I remember the foot washing of a woman whose feet were gnarled and turned inward by her having had a stroke.  As I was washing her feet and gentlly massaging them, she reached down, placed my face in her hands, lifted up my head so she was looking into my eyes and said, "Well done, good and faithfull servant."
Ministry provides so many WOW moments. NOTE: We each are called to ministry....some of us somehow managed to have several groups of persons say we could have the title of Reverend.... yet, for each of us is the commission to go and do likewise.  No needed time like the present, my friends.

A Palm Sunday Reflection

Who doesn't love a parade?  Children, seniors, youth who participate due to their band member status --- we love parades.  As a kid, the biggies were the Halloween Parade where if you were in a Brownie troop you all dressed as witches --- catching the ire of the more fundamental clergy in town who took the pint-sized gaggle of witches as the portent for "something evil this way comes," and would soon take up residence in the local Five and Ten.  Of course, the annual Christmas parade marked the arrival of Santa who was joined by his crew of candy-throwing elves.  These elves were not in the holiday spirit of tossing the candy, they hurled the tootsie rolls, lollipops and bubble gum with maniacal glee.  Those not getting hit with incoming, quickly scoured the street, sidewalk and even sewer grates to gather free candy.....it's all good...the candy was wrapped......

Why all this talk of parades?
On that first Palm Sunday two parades were occurring on two different routes with two distinctly different reasons.
One parade featured the power and prestige of the Roman Empire.  It was a showcase of wealth and a who's who of the rich and ruling. The Roman soldier's golden helmets and breast plates, their spears glimmered in the afternoon sunshine as they promenaded and surrounded Pontius Pilate astride his battle horse.

The other parade featured the teacher from Nazareth riding on a donkey.  Clearing the path for him were the disheveled, the disenfranchised, those on the discard pile of life. They waved palm branches and placed pieces of their clothing and cloaks for a makeshift parade route.

Think carefully, ponder honestly, reflect upon what route would you be placing your chair?
Are we not drawn to power? Are we not amazed by military bravado and bluster? Don't we feel protected and safe in the midst of all that weaponry and might? Don't we like to see  a glimpse of the famous, the wealthy, the seemingly put together perfectly? Let's be serious, a donkey is not all that exciting (I could make a really sophomoric pun about when you've seen one ass, you've seen 'em all.....) and a palm branch is so common it's not noticed.
On what parade route are you reserving your spot?

If I'm with the marginalized many, I'm in the parade along side Jesus, waving my branch and yelling my loudest. Yet, if I had a choice, I'd most likely have been sitting this one out...too many people, too much risk, too much hype and hoopla all surrounding a whole lot of uncertainty.

Whatever the route, whatever the reason behind your choice, the one point that cannot be overlooked is the meaning behind both parades. Do we trust in the allusion of power and wealth or do we trust in the Judeo-Christian God who has always acted to deliver us?

This Palm Sunday and Holy Week will be unlike any we have ever experienced. We are in a strange new world of heightened anxiety which can only be eased by that which for our safety we  must not do and that is to be with each other. 

More than ZOOM, so beyond FaceTime, I choose to believe that in our thoughts by which we keep hold of one another, in the energy of our hope and in the belief of the One who has promised to be with each of us , we are together in and through all of this  in a very global way.

Together in our prayers, together in our resiliency, together in our hope.  

The journey continues and, as they say, the only way out is through.

The Blog is Back!

Of course, anything prior to March 10 seems like forever ago.  Yes, we are in uncharted waters, yet, I am confident and hope-full that we will journey through this and arrive safely on the shore.

Clearly, this blog had about 2 inches of "hibernation dust" upon it. The wind of "NOW IT'S NEEDED" blew it off and here we go.....the blog is back....or, if you prefer ---- get ready for "Child of Ministry on the Margins" blog.

I'm not on Facebook.  I'm not the most tech-savvy gal. I don't Instagram.

I do pay attention. I do listen.  I do seek community.  I write.  I blog.

I'll email this little, fairly low-tech blog to you and feel free to read it or not (however, by not reading you risk pissing off an ordained woman....).  Feel free to share this with friends and enemies.  Feel free to add your comments and reflections.

As we say at the monthly meetings of the Health Committee for Persons with Disabilities which I lead:  "Together, we have...and Together, we will;

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