#holythursday

"We adore Thee most holy Lord, Jesus Christ…because by Thy holy cross, Thou hast redeemed the world." - #SaintFrancisofAssisi

Holy and Great Thursday

SAINT MATRONA THE BLIND OF MOSCOW ( 1952)

Saint Matrona’s life began not in the bustling streets of Moscow but three hundred kilometers south, in the heart of the Tula province. Here, on the eastern edge of the legendary Kulikovo Field, where the Russian army defeated the Mongol-Tatars in 1380, on the right bank of the River Mokraya lies the quaint village of Sebino. It whispers of even older times, echoing the “Sebinskii Les,” a primeval forest that once belonged to a noble Tatar named Sebin Bibik, according to local lore. The Bibikov family, it is said, traces its lineage back to him. Sebino embraces a beautiful Church of the Dormition of the Most Holy Theotokos, with a chapel dedicated to the revered Prince Alexander Nevsky.

he Assumption Church has a rich history marked by significant events. During World War II, the village faced destruction at the hands of the Nazi Germans. Today, the exact location of the house where the revered Mother Matrona spent her early years remains unknown. According to local elders, Matrona’s parents, Dmitry and Natalia Nikonov, resided near the church at the heart of the village. A monument now stands at the presumed site of her family home. In 2002, a second chapel was consecrated at the Dormition Church in honor of the Blessed Matrona of Moscow.

Matronushka, as she was lovingly called, was a late child. She was born in 1885 and was a late child in a humble peasant family already blessed with three children: Maria, Mikhail, and Ivan. Initially considering placing the unborn child in Prince Golitsyn’s orphanage in a neighbouring village, Natalia had a dream one night. A white bird with a human face and closed eyes landed on her right hand. Interpreting this as a divine sign, Natalia, a God-fearing woman, kept the child when she was born blind.

The mother’s love for her “unfortunate child” only grew when she noticed a cross-shaped protrusion on the infant’s chest, believed to be an uncreated protective cross. During the child’s baptism by Priest Vasily Troitsky, who named her Matrona in honor of the ascetic Matrona of Constantinople from the 5th century, another sign of the girl’s divine election occurred: a pillar of light mist rose over the font, accompanied by a fragrant scent, leaving everyone present in awe. The astonished priest remarked, “I have baptised many children, but this is the first time I see such a thing; this baby will be holy.”....Continue Reading

Source: St Elizabeth convent

HIEROMARTYR PAPNUTHIUS OF JERUSALEM

Hieromartyr Paphnutius of Jerusalem was a bishop. He underwent many sufferings from the pagans and, was tortured by fire wild beasts, and finally, was beheaded by the sword.

Some suggest that the hieromartyr Paphnutius was an Egyptian bishop and suffered together with many other Egyptians, exiled to the Palestinian mines during the persecution by Diocletian (284-305).

The myrrh-streaming relics of the hieromartyr were glorified by miracles. The Canon in his honor was composed during the Iconoclast period (before 842). In the final Ode is a petition for the hieromartyr to put an end to the heresy disrupting the Church.

CORINTHIANS 11:23-32

23 For I received from the Lord that which I also delivered to you: that the Lord Jesus on the same night in which He was betrayed took bread; 24 and when He had given thanks, He broke it and said, "Take, eat; this is My body which is broken for you; do this in remembrance of Me." 25 In the same manner, He also took the cup after supper, saying, "This cup is the new covenant in My blood. This do, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of Me." 26 For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord's death till He comes. 27 Therefore, whoever eats this bread or drinks this cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of the body and blood of the Lord. 28 But let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of the bread and drink of the cup. 29 For he who eats and drinks in an unworthy manner eats and drinks judgment to himself, not discerning the Lord's body. 30 For this reason, many are weak and sick among you, and many sleep. 31 For if we would judge ourselves, we would not be judged. 32 But when we are judged, we are chastened by the Lord, that we may not be condemned with the world.

JOHN 13:1-11

Maundy Thursday begins the sacred Triduum—the holiest days of the Church year.  The liturgy reflects the beauty of the Paschal mystery and the Passover Feast of Christ.   The Triduum is a time that we walk in Jesus’ footsteps for His final hours on earth.   Personal devotions always spring up to unite the faithful’s domestic church with the liturgy of the Church but even more so during the holiest week of the year and in particular in this year of Covid19 when we are all locked down in our homes and are unable to accompany our Lord on His journey to the Cross.

At the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday, the Gospel is John 13:1-15, Christ washing the feet of the Apostles.   The word Maundy comes from the Latin word mandatum (commandment) which is the first word of the Gospel acclamation: Mandátum novum do vobis dicit Dóminus, ut diligátis ínvicem, sicut diléxi vos.   “I give you a new commandment – Love one another as I have loved you.” (John 13:34).   At the Mass the priest washes feet of several people in imitation of Christ.

The Seven Churches Visitation

In metropolitan areas where there are more Catholic churches, there is the popular tradition of visiting the altar of repose in seven local churches.   This custom began in Rome (often credited to St Philip Neri) with visiting the seven major basilicas of the city on Holy Thursday: St Peter’s in the Vatican, St Paul’s outside the Walls, St John Lateran, St Mary Major, St Sebastian’s, St Lawrence Outside the Walls and Holy Cross in Jerusalem.   See them all below.

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This Holy Thursday pilgrimage reflects the seven stops or “stations” during the night of Jesus’ arrest:

Jesus in the Garden in Gethsemane where He was arrested (Luke 22:39-46) Jesus taken before Annas (John 18:19-22) Jesus bound and taken before Caiaphas, the High Priest (Matthew 26:63-65) Jesus taken before Pilate, the Roman governor (John 18:35-37) Jesus goes before Herod (Luke 23:8-9, 11) Jesus returns to Pilate (Matthew 27:22-26) Jesus is scourged, crowned with thorns and led to His crucifixion (John 19:1-16)

The previous book of indulgences, the Raccolta, included this practice.   The suggested prayers were an Our Father, Hail Mary and Glory be, five times before the Altar of Repost of the Blessed Sacrament and then some private adoration and personal prayer (reflection on the scripture passages related to the “station”) before moving on to the next church.

The final church stop can also include prayers for the Holy Father’s intentions and a longer time of adoration with Jesus in the altar of repose.   In some regions the number of churches expanded to 14 to include the entire Stations of the Cross.  Some other traditions of prayers, with the Seven Churches, is praying along with the Seven Last Words of Christ.   This year there will be many online resources and we can pray the Liturgy together in our home,s as well as, make the Seven Churches pilgrimage by reading each Gospel reading aloud and praying the prayers suggested.

May we all accompany Our Lord tonight and not leave Him alone!

What follows is the homily I delivered for the Holy Thursday Liturgy at Grace and St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church (online, owing to the realities of the pandemic), on April 9th, 2020. During the present time of radical upheaval, my hope and prayer is that these words, and the worldview and invitation they represent, might inspire and support a few hearts and souls who are now seeking to find a fresh and more life giving way of walking on this sacred Earth.

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On Holy Thursday we usually speak, in one way or another, of the sustaining qualities of bread, of its symbolism translated into the Holy Eucharist, and to the ‘table of fellowship’ more broadly.

Yet on this occasion we have no sacramental bread to share. We do, however, have other forms of bread to sustain us. ‘Give us this day our daily bread,’ Holy Wisdom invites us to ask—: ‘Grant us the sustenance we need.’ In the ancient Syriac version of the Lord’s Prayer, that line translates more literally as, ‘Grant us the bread we need, from day to day.’

I wonder what bread it is that we actually need. What forms of sustenance do we really require in this life—and in this particular historical moment? It might well be that what we need isn’t at all what we’ve long assumed we needed. And now might be the perfect time for us to realize and fully come to terms with that fact. What is it that truly feeds us—body, mind, heart, and soul? In other words: What’s actually fundamental to our humanness?

The other day my Bishop in California, Marc Andrus, reminded me of a commentary on the Lord’s Prayer written by the contemporary Sufi teacher, Neil Douglas-Klotz. In this commentary, he goes line by line with the prayer and beneath each phrase gives his own reflections or petitions in response to the original text. In response to the line, ‘Give us this day our daily bread,’ he writes:

‘Grant what we need each day in bread and insight: subsistence for the call of growing life.…Let the measure of our need be earthiness: give all things simple, verdant, passionate….Animate the earth within us: we then feel the Wisdom underneath, supporting all. Generate through us the bread of life…grant what we need each day in bread and insight.’

This does a fair job, I think, of pointing—even if somewhat obliquely—to one of our chief sources of nourishment. A source to which our prodigal return is long overdue. That source is God’s manifest Creation: Nature, or, in our specific environment here and now, the Earth, from whom our very life comes forth, and from whom, as Neil Douglas-Klotz points out, comes also Wisdom: Wisdom incarnate, bodily, earthly: Christ the Word of Heaven and the Word of Earth.

‘That peace which the world cannot give, I give to you,’ says the Jesus of John’s Gospel, as he rapidly approaches the end of his incarnate life. ‘The world’ here of course means the world of human contrivance: the social and political world of human beings and our often misguided endeavors. As I hope all of us can see clearly from where we presently stand (if we couldn’t see it before), the world of human affairs, and the way in which this particular society has normatively conducted itself, are most definitely incapable of offering us any real peace—or any authentic meaning and purpose. They have separated and distracted us from who we really are, where we come from, and what it is that actually feeds us.

And now that this social construct is in many ways forced to a temporary halt, we have the opportunity to redress it: to help remediate the misguided way of life we’ve collectively created and perpetuated. Now we’re invited to consider what it would look like to co-create a different kind of world. Perhaps a world that looks more like God’s Kingdom. If we simply kill time till we can rush back to the old, established way of being, then we forfeit this sacred opportunity—this holy opportunity to deeply examine and to heal the toxicities and the injustices of the way of life we’ve too long taken for granted.

And there’s a small but significant analogue to all this in our own parochial setting. It’s of course normal that folks will have grief and nostalgia and other emotions related to being in the physical space of the church, to doing things in a certain way, as they’re used to—that’s all perfectly understandable, and we all feel it to one degree or another. And, at the same time, if all we do is linger there and bide our time till we can return to familiar routines, then what have we gained? What have we really learned from all this? How have we grown and how have we transformed? How have we then accepted the opportunity God has put before us to live into a deeper expression of Her Kingdom?

I say ‘opportunity’ here knowing full well that really engaging the challenge and potential of this time is not a given, and, if history and observation of the present are any indication, many, many people will not seize hold of this opportunity; instead, they’ll find new ways to distract themselves until they can get back to ‘normalcy’. The problem is that the normalcy we’ve had in this culture is by no reasonable standards healthy, just, or aligned in harmony with God’s Creation.

So what will we do about that? What will we who claim to be religious, who claim to follow Christ—who, by the way, has always borne witness against most of what we assume as normal and right, whether we want to acknowledge that fact or not—what will we do about this whole scenario? Will we fall back into old habits, old assumptions and old patterns of corrosive behavior, or will we finally do something fundamentally different to reshape our world for the betterment of all? That is the challenge and the invitation I humbly place before you in this week of sacred observance, here in this liminal time: this time of fear and uncertainty, yes, but also of opportunity—of sacred opportunity.

Collectively, the bread we need is not to be found in material concern. The bread we need is the bread of true communion, which begins in each of us, and is manifest as loving connection with the whole of Life, the whole of God’s Creation. And in our context as a parish community, the bread we ultimately have to share with the world that truly nourishes is not to be found in our building, in our customs, in our supposed worldview assumptions, which many don’t fully understand or accept anyway. The bread—the real nourishment we hold and have to share—is to be found in the depth and quality of our witness. In our Sacraments, yes, but even more fundamentally, in the depth of our love: for one another, and for the whole of Creation. And it’s to be found in the depth of the transformation we’ve each undergone as spiritual seekers. All the rest is ultimately window dressing.

So, I want to say to you tonight, dear friends, that the real measure of how adequately we meet this strange and challenging time—the true measure of how adequately we meet it, of whether or not we embrace the opportunity God provides in it—is how well and how fully we’re able to live now into a new and more life giving paradigm: one of true interconnection with the whole of Life, and one which privileges in our language, in our focus, and in our practice the authentic and dynamic values of Nature, which are the values of the Origin of Life.

How will you—and how will we, as the Church—bear deep and relevant witness to those values now? That, I believe, is the charge and the invitation God has placed on our hearts.