While they were eating, he took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to them, and said, "Take; this is my body." Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, and all of them drank from it. He said to them, "This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God."
˜ Mark 14:22-25
Many churches these days observe Maundy Thursday as a penitential event, but at our Convent, we observe it as a festal, joyful celebration of the institution of the Eucharist. White or gold vestments are worn, the Gloria in excelsis is sung after being omitted throughout Lent, and the music is exuberant. We usually have several guests staying with us for Holy Week, and some newcomers are a little taken aback by this. They are used to seeing a somber Maundy Thursday service with no Gloria , simple music and red vestments.
A few years ago, we were urged by clergy friends to change our "old-fashioned Anglo Catholic" relic of a service to the more contemporary penitential one. We politely declined. For us, the festive spirit of Maundy Thursday interrupts the austerity of Lent and places us in the Upper Room, where Jesus and his friends joyfully celebrate the Passover while still hoping that his predictions of death will not come true. It provides a stark comparison with the moment after we have all shared the feast, when the body and blood of Christ leave the chapel and go into the Altar of Repose. At this point, our festal celebration suddenly transitions to darkness as Jesus goes to pray at Gethsemane. We know he will be arrested there and sent to his death. Watching the altar being stripped of its festal trappings, we feel a sense of bewilderment and desolation. The candles are extinguished. Our brief moment of joy in the depths of Lent is gone. Gold vestments are replaced with red. We depart in silence.
The first time I experienced this service, I plunged into grief. I went back to my room and cried the same tears I have cried many times at funerals. Our liturgy had moved me to the point where I was truly feeling loss and desolation.
If clergy approach us in the future and suggest that we change our liturgy, we will once again politely decline.
Reflect: What parts of Holy Week are the most moving for you? What emotions do you experience?
This Lenten Meditation can be found at Episcopal Relief and Development