Thursday, April 17, 2014

Holy Thursday

The ride did not happen last night: one friend had to teach, another was sick. Tonight looks much better. If I go, I will ask for anointing with the previous evening's Holy Oil, especially since I have been standing in the gap for someone.

Tonight's service, technically a matins service, but traditionally done in the evening by many churches, is the reading of all twelve passion gospels, starting with my favorite (a beautiful long one from the book of John, Jesus' final discourse to the apostles at the Last Supper).

In past parishes, twelve men would stand before the altar, each bearing a candle, which would be blown out at the end of each reading. Currently, I belong to a tiny mission church consisting of a predominantly elderly population (Daniel, at eighteen, is the youngest member). Not enough people attend in the evening, so it generally means we all stand in front (men and women), usually bearing a candle in each hand.

I love the ancient mysticism of the Eastern Christian church. With the thrust today in the West to make worship "relevent," I adore the Orthodox's slant of directing our gaze upward, to the everlasting present, where everything is beyond comprehension.

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