Christopher is downstairs watching the Tenebrae service streaming from St. John Cantius right now. I am struck by several thoughts on this. One, it seems miraculous that he could be watching this beautiful service in this beautiful church so far away from us. And it seems so sad; watching something on the screen seems so distancing, so isolating, so removed from the true purpose of what you are watching, which is to have this connection with God, which would seem to require being present in a way that you can't be if you are only experiencing it on the screen. And I feel afraid, afraid of the screens, of how easy they are, how seductive they are, and how ultimately alienating they can be, as we accept this false reality. Combined with the fear of other people that we have now, we can fully justify an acceptance of this fake reality, and that it will become the default reality for us in the future. I fear the loss of the community that I have worked so hard for several years to create for my children, I have been walking around with that knot of anxiety in my stomach today about that. Will our communities still be there at the end of this? Will we be able to overcome our fears and still gather together? I prepare my Holy Thursday reflections with that fear, with the prayer that our Holy Thursday rituals can bring us together.
And those thoughts tie into other of thoughts today, of Dorothy Day, of her loneliness and her search for connection and love and meaning. Her autobiography was even entitled "The Long Loneliness," in case you miss the point of her search. I have been thinking about Dorothy Day today, and I don't really have a fully formed thought on her, or, rather, I have many many thoughts about her, but nothing fully coherent.
These thoughts began to swirl around after I read an article in the online version of the New Yorker; a new book and a new documentary on Day are being released soon, and the article reviewed Day's life in that context. Certain elements of the articles struck me. The author was bemused by what she saw as the inherent contradictions of Day's beliefs. On the one hand, pacifist, women's rights, champion of the poor, critic of capitalism; but on the other hand, firm supporter of the church's teachings on sexuality, including abortion and homosexuality, a firm believer in the teaching authority of the church, a firm practitioner of the prayers and the liturgy of the church. My thought was: there is no inherent contradiction in Day's thoughts. Only in today's political system--and that is the key phrase--only in this moment, and only in this particular political structure--are these beliefs viewed as being in opposition. They aren't, and they shouldn't be. In this time of crisis, when everything is now up in the air, maybe it is time to think about the society we have and the society we want to have. I feel close to Dorothy Day today: her search for community and connection echoes my own fears of loss of community and connection.
Which brings us to Holy Thursday! Holy Thursday just feels tricky, right; the part of Holy Week that is most about the institution of the priesthood; how do you mark that without a priest, without a Mass? My sources suggest a Passover meal, or a Seder, to mark the day. I have to make a confession at this point: I have a very limited skill set. I am not artistic, not good at arts and crafts, and I am not a cook. A meal like a Seder is a daunting task, not helped by the fact that I am very limited at the present moment at my ability to go out, go shopping, and get the supplies needed for such a meal.
However, I take heart from two suggestions from Maria von Trapp (she, of course, who had her own house priest to bless her Seder meal). She points out, as her priest blesses the meal, that his tray includes the unleavened bread and wine glasses. He blesses the bread and the wine, before passing them around. Von Trapp points out that "people in the time of Christ used to clear the table after a good meal and bring some special wine and bread, and in the 'breaking of the bread' they would signify their love for the departing one ... To share bread and wine together in this fashion, therefore, was not it itself startling to the Apostles, but the occasion was memorable on this first Holy Thursday because it was Our Lord's own great farewell." She goes to add that, "Every Holy Thursday spent like this knits a family closer together, careful to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace, one body and one Spirit ... one Lord, one faith." So, in that spirit, we will break the bread and share the wine together on Holy Thursday. And, Maria included a recipe for unleavened bread that Eileen and I are feeling ambitious enough to attempt. I will let you know how it goes. I include for you Maria von Trapp's recipe for unleavened bread, you know, just in case you can't get out to the store to find it for yourself.
1 and 1/2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 egg, slightly beaten
1/2 cup butter
1/3 cup warm water
Mix salt, flour, egg, and butter. Add the water, mix the dough quickly with a knife, and then knead on a board, stretching it up and down to make it elastic until it leaves the board clean. Toss on a small, well floured board. Cover with a hot bowl and keep warm a half hour or longer. Then cut into squares of desired size and bake in a 350 degree oven until done.
If you are feeling really ambitious, and have the elements on hand, you can include more elements of a Seder meal, including a bowl with 'bitter herbs' (parsley, chives, and celery greens), another bowl with a sauce (I don't have recipe for said sauce), and the aforementioned unleavened bread. The entrée is the roasted lamb, eaten with the bitter herbs and sauce.
I will keep you posted on how the bread turns out. And, next up: ideas for Easter Vigil (backyard fire, anyone?)
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