Thursday, April 13, 2006
An Eve of Many Memories
(Category: faith)
It was a very strange sensation saying Evening Prayer at the Community Hall tonight. I, alone in my bare room, with a single candle for company. Outside a large group assembled, the kitchen humming with the activity of preparation for the Jewish Passover meal in the larger of the halls.
A strange juxtaposition. A night of memories of salvation in the Exodus, and the night of the instituion of the eucharist.
Two Last Suppers, both in anticipation of liberation wrought through death. The reading from Leviticus setting out the practice for Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, forming a bitter-sweet contrast to the obvious sounds of joyous gathering outside.
An echo of another Passover Supper, and the radical, incarnate re-interpretation by the hidden and soon-to-be-rejected Messiah. The words of the Litany repeated in familiarity, while without another familiar litany of questions would soon begin.
At once together, yet separated by a wall.
A wall of stone, a wall of history and a wall of faith.
And do the tears of God flow tonight? Not just in the midst of an olive grove a stone's throw from the Holy City, but in the Holy City unseen by mortal eye? Tears from the same Father, of the Patriarchs and of Jesus, for all their sons. ¶ 6:28 pm
It was a very strange sensation saying Evening Prayer at the Community Hall tonight. I, alone in my bare room, with a single candle for company. Outside a large group assembled, the kitchen humming with the activity of preparation for the Jewish Passover meal in the larger of the halls.
A strange juxtaposition. A night of memories of salvation in the Exodus, and the night of the instituion of the eucharist.
Two Last Suppers, both in anticipation of liberation wrought through death. The reading from Leviticus setting out the practice for Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, forming a bitter-sweet contrast to the obvious sounds of joyous gathering outside.
An echo of another Passover Supper, and the radical, incarnate re-interpretation by the hidden and soon-to-be-rejected Messiah. The words of the Litany repeated in familiarity, while without another familiar litany of questions would soon begin.
At once together, yet separated by a wall.
A wall of stone, a wall of history and a wall of faith.
And do the tears of God flow tonight? Not just in the midst of an olive grove a stone's throw from the Holy City, but in the Holy City unseen by mortal eye? Tears from the same Father, of the Patriarchs and of Jesus, for all their sons. ¶ 6:28 pm
