The night before His crucifixion, Jesus washed
the feel of his disciples saying, A new commandment I give unto
you: That you love one another, as I have loved you, that you also love one
another. John 13:34
He bent low with a pot of water as the Apostles squirmed with shame and
resistance. Surely this was beneath the Master. What kind of love
was this? When it was complete he said, Do you
understand what I have done for you? …I have set an example that you should
do as I have done for you…John
13:12
After the ritual, he poured wine and expressed gratitude. They drank. He broke
bread, blessing it and passed it to the disciples. They ate. And he said, this is my body,
which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.Luke 22:17 Then
lifting his own cup, he foretold of the hours to come. He spoke of giving
himself, saying, I will not drink of the fruit of
the vine from now on until the kingdom of God comes…This cup is the new
covenant in my blood, that for you is being poured forth. Luke 22:18-20
After supper Jesus goes to the garden. He weeps and prays, repeatedly
requesting the apostles to stay awake, to pray with him. Crucifixion is
imminent. They cannot be roused. This is one of many abandonments. The dawn
brings soldiers who arrest the Teacher. Soon, he is judged, scourged,
beaten, and carries his cross to Golgotha.
Holy Thursday Meditation by MaryBeth Scalice
in the company of Mary Magdalene
Wash My Feet Jesus
Let your passion array this body.
Let your furrows soften
in the satisfaction
of the service,
the cleansing,
which I sorely need.
See how your touch,
your bending low,
your meticulous care
gives me pause to remember,
I am worthy.
Your gentleness
makes me cry.
I feel so weary,
so broken,
having trodden the world
chasing imagined needs.
I am shamed
but you are smiling,
happy to kneel before me
to offer this generosity,
a gift of true love.
How can you be
so gracious
when the cross
is your tomorrow
and this meal
your last repast?
How can you swallow
even a bit of bread?
You will not fix your
eyes on Jerusalem again.
You will say
your last requests
in meditation
in the garden
in sweat.
Your life beloved,
culminates here
with beating
and jeering
and piercing
just hours
from now;
with injustice
as hungry as a dog
on your heels;
your mission
as you know it,
as I have known you,
changing drastically.
There will be no miracles
for you tonight.
Yet you wash my feet.
How can I accept it?
Get up off your knees
Jess, and look at me.
I want you to see
the faith in my eyes.
I want you to know,
I know you are the God-Man.
I long to hold you
and care for you
and bring a Ray of comfort
to your heart,
the human part
which feels all the bones
numbered and shocked.
I take this bit of bread
but it is hard to chew,
a bitter bite too soon
to replace you.
I sip sweet wine
and taste only sorrow.
I don’t want you to go.
Please don’t go.
I love you.
Yes,
pour the water.
I accept as sacrament
your tender touch.
I submit feet,
heart, mind,
though I do not understand
this God-given Design
of Life from death
and Self from selflessness.
I would keep you for myself.
I would keep you with my desire.
I would hold you back with
fears and needs
seeking the comfort of
countless tomorrows.
Cleanse me.
Wash the very air I breathe.
Wash everything.
Make of me
your Shekina.
Tonight I will sit
in Gethsemane
where we sang.
I will tear my robe
in grief
preparing to release you.
I will raise my voice
till it rasps
in praise
for the joy of you
in my life.
I will lift my heart
unto the Will we share
and KNOW,
You Live.
I do not know how I will KNOW,
but I promise to KNOW
if you help me.
Come now,
wash my feet.
And when your body
is gone,
beyond all hope
of reach,
I will remember.
I will love
as you have loved me.
I too will wash feet.
You will come unto
my soul,
your hands, my hands,
your heart, my heart,
your words pouring out.
And Light will flow
as the water
of our new covenant.
copyright marybeth scalice 3/29/18
foundationofopenhearts@gmail.com
www.foundationofopenhearts
