Maundy Thursday
After all my ranting and snide comments about "The Passion...," a movie I have not seen but somehow still have strong opinions about for some reason which probably has a lot to do with arrogance and a little to do with faith, I got to be Jesus for a day.
I suspect this was either a Divine reward for my wisdom or a penalty for being stupid. Or maybe because I have a deep voice.
At any rate, we did our Presbyterian version of The Passion last Sunday and I was Him.
I've been a lay leader/reader for years now. It's no big deal; I was an actor once, and I have no problems being up front and center. My goal when I was acting was to be as honest as possible, and so standing up in front of God and my friends and being honest and not having to fake it is a piece of cake. Removing the middle man, in other words
I've given countless childrens' messages and scripture readings and congregational spotlights and occasionally stood in the pulpit and preached an I-swear-to-God sermon, so I'm used to it. Still. I've never been Jesus.
Okay, so it wasn't a performance as much as a reading, taken from Luke. There was no blood or gore. It was a straight-forward, simple redaction of the good doctor's (or so we like to think) story of the last days of Jesus the Christ (it's not his last name, as many preachers and Mel, God love him, like to point out), but it was still intimidating.
What's the proper inflection for the Son of Man? It's a somber story, but is somber the right tone? Certainly you can't be flippant, but then there's "Simon, Simon..." and admonitions and the institution of the sacrament and, you know. Jeez. A lot of stuff. John Wayne impressions will not do.
My voice shook a little. I was out of practice, and it had been a rough Saturday night, and then there was...The Passion. But I did all right.
Tonight is Maundy Thursday. Holy Week for some is eight days long, starting with Palm Sunday and ending on Easter, and Maundy Thursday begins the final push. This marks the Night He Was Betrayed, the Last Supper, the premiere of the Da Vinci Code for Christians. Bread and wine, body and blood.
Some important things were said.
At my regular group meeting last night, we were talking about Easter rituals and traditions, and the guy next to me asked a question.
"Can someone explain this Passover thing?" he asked. He truly had no idea. He is a gentle man who honestly believes in and seeks a power greater than himself, but he hasn't...been...trained...you see. So he wondered.
I volunteered and gave him a Cliff's Note version of unleavened bread and locusts and Moses and all that, pulling it together nicely with The Passion story until he said, "What kind of blood?"
For the door, or wall or whatever. To mark. To be passed over. Stay with me.
What kind of question is that? What kind of blood?
Fairly accurate quote from me, expert theologian: "Well...I dunno...an animal...like, maybe, a calf, or...I dunno...a goat or..."
Someone else: "A lamb."
*slap hand on forehead*
So I've given up being the explainer. I don't explain well. And some things can't be explained. They just are.
I will take a nap now, having swung out of bed at 4 a.m. for some (God knows why) reason this morning and wrestled with foreign software for hours, and then I will go to church and eat. A simple meal, prepared by deacons, and then some scripture and maybe a song or two and goodbye. We are a simple people.
My wife has got this week lined up, and I have jobs. She prints out readings for me to do, all of which I have very little memory of agreeing to, but when it came to Maundy Thursday she smiled.
"You just have to eat," she said.
2:55:14 PM 
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