Broken, shared, given away

Taking a break from my remembering my Africa trip, I have to comment on my two favorite days in the church year - more than Easter, more than Christmas. Holy Thursday is a day (actually the night is more to my liking) when I do remember all the great people in my life, past and present. It is easy to recall and thank those close to me now - my own small family - mom and kids, Chris and Diane who have become good sounding boards as well as loving, supportive friends, the school colleagues who have allowed me the luxury of leaving on a trip like this and supported me emotionally for years. There are many, many good people I have met and grown to love through school. But Holy Thursday is also a time to remember those at a distance and those who are not here any longer. Holy Thursday was a night for Richard, John, Fred and I to recount our blessings, drink to our heroes and break bread together. John, my best friend, died unexpectedly years ago on Loveland bike trail. Richard is in New Mexico and Fred remains close but has a family of his own. But we can never forget these Holy nights spent together and the power of our friendship and love over the years. It has been a gift from God. It was in the breaking of the bread that we knew God and what would become the patterns for our lives, my life. My theology is more simple now. What is asked of me? To follow Jesus. What did Jesus do? He gave His life away, piece by piece - knowing that He would be filled again by His father. So what should I do? Give my life away - piece by piece - and trust that someone will take it. So it was at that Last Supper that I get a clue of the meaning of Eucharist - remembering my brother/hero and being broken, shared and given away. It makes sense to me. And to the degree that my life is broken, shared and given away - I understand liturgy and the Last Supper.

My friend Richard gives this image of Christ on the cross on Good Friday - of Jesus saying with His body "Stop it." He doesn't get angry. He doesn't crucify back - although we would think He has the right. He just takes it and holds the pain and the violence inside His body and says "Stop it." "The violence, the killing, the hurt and anger stops with Me." And He refuses to pass on the violence. In that way, He truly saves me, saves us. Not in the traditional way of atonement, but in the way he teaches us to live and to love. That is what really "saves" us.

And so these two days are holy for me. Easter is good - Alleluia. But I have learned more from pain, suffering, mistakes and tragedy than from all my Easter Sundays.