Prepared in Haste

In his homily for Holy Thursday, our Bishop spoke of the first Last Supper being prepared in haste.  The apostles thought they were preparing the usual Passover meal, but then Jesus transformed it into something new that they could not have expected. He gave them His very Body when He instituted the Eucharist, established the priesthood, and gave us the possibility of sharing in this meal with Him every day since that day.


 This description of preparing in haste really struck me. Last evening I, like many in our diocese, gathered with my family around our TV anticipating a livestreamed Mass from our Cathedral.  Following along on the Facebook post, it was clear that something went wrong, and comments numbering into the hundreds quickly came in, one at a time, from people wondering, “did I miss it?” “Am I in the right place?” “Has it started?” “What’s going on?”

 It’s hard to find a better representation of this season of life than that scene that played out before us yesterday evening.  We too, find ourselves in front of an unprecedented situation.  We prepare ourselves in haste, in many cases bringing technology to the forefront when our normal lives use it only a fraction of the time.  Good people work tirelessly behind the scenes to keep us connected, diving into new platforms and embracing new ways of ministering so that we will not be left behind.  And still, despite all of that, sometimes it can translate into a great waiting.

 Had we all been able to go to the Cathedral last night, we would surely have overflowed it. But we would find ourselves sitting beside people we didn’t know, doing our own thing with our own families. Yesterday however, we were waiting together, from our homes but very much connected.  People immediately began praying from their homes, uniting ourselves to those who were taking part in the Mass (and those trying to bring it to us).  At a certain point, one of my older children asked, “how long do we wait?” And I answered, “we just wait.”

 We put our youngest to bed and finally, after an hour, found a livestreamed Mass from a neighboring diocese to attend with our older children.  By the end they were exhausted, after two hours of sitting in a quiet living room praying.  It was beautiful, but it took a lot out of us. 

 Reflecting on it afterwards, there is always a certain amount of effort during the Triduum.  If this had been a normal year, we would have hurried through supper, dressed the kids in something presentable, and gone into town for a long Mass.  We would have returned home after bedtime tired, and prepared to do the same thing over the rest of the Triduum. 

Participating in these liturgies always asks something of us.  But this year it seems, that request is more personal. It is a deep attentiveness to an ever-changing environment. It is a oneness with our fellow humanity in a way that is difficult to imagine in any situation but the one we are presently living.  It is dizzying.

 And so the words of the Bishop about the Lord’s supper really penetrated my heart.  In it, I could very clearly see all of us, busying ourselves with everything that comes in this season.  Trying to navigate new technologies, to participate in as much as we can so that our observance of Easter can be as normal as possible.  Accepting being behind a computer screen so much more than we are accustomed to and, at the same time, being at the mercy of this technology when it fails us, and despite our best laid plans we find ourselves still waiting.  Preparing in haste.

 This gives me hope that the same Jesus who transformed that meal into something completely new and unexpected will do the same for us right now.  We have not yet reached that point, I don’t think.  We are still living in the haste of these mysterious days.  But we can continue to prepare, as the Apostles did.  We can continue to invite Jesus into our lives and accept with patience these circumstances, which change by the minute at times. Our work is not wasted.

 And we can trust Him to come as the invited guest.  With His presence, He makes everything new, and brings us what we could not possibly anticipate or expect.  He will give us a way forward, and unite us with Him forever.

 How many times I have heard these readings proclaimed over the course of my life, and heard them simply as stories? I try to imagine myself in them, but the mind can only bring you so far.  And yet our current circumstances actually help me to identify with the Gospel in a way I never could have if we were not living these days.  In a single moment, the thousands of years that have passed since Jesus walked this earth have been bridged, and I can identify with and feel a small portion of what the must have been living.  

 They too, must have been confused.  They must have felt dizzy.  They were seeing everything they knew about faith and religion changing not completely, but needing to be measured against this man that was before them. They had to decide, do we accept his radical teachings, or do we reject them? 

One of my children asked me this morning, why the people who turned Jesus over did that to Him. And I told her that it was because they were confused.  In these days of uncertainty, confusion is palpable. There is the temptation to cling to what we know, and to reject what is before us.  And in order to be able to accept what is before us demands a great deal of attentiveness.  The ones who truly accepted Jesus were those who listened to Him, stayed close to God, discerned everything that was happening in front of them, and then walked into the unknown confident that they didn’t know the way, but they knew the One who does.

 The only hope we have of not falling prey to this confusion is to live as they did.  We are in days that are full of haste.  But we know the way.  Like the apostles, we are called to adapt to ever-changing circumstances that may not always feel intuitive. But if we keep Christ close to us, praying constantly (and more so the more that the demands of living this way press themselves down on us), then we can be confident that He will arrive, and that He will transform our efforts into something new and unimaginable.

 “Man, the human being’s rational life, would have to be suspended on the instant, suspended in every moment upon these signs, apparently so fickle, so haphazard, [which are] the circumstances through which the unknown ‘lord’ drags me, provokes me toward his design. I would have to say ‘yes’ at every instant without seeing anything, simply adhering to the pressures of the occasions. It is a dizzying position”. (Luigi Giussani)