Imagine yourself in a restaurant. It’s quite busy, you’ve just been seated and you become aware of the other tables around you. There is a diversity of conversations going on. Some people are laughing, others seem to be arguing. Then there’s the “planning” table where perhaps the wife is telling the husband the schedule for the rest of the day or perhaps the whole week. There’s a table where one person is sitting alone, perhaps waiting for another to arrive. There are several tables where everyone is looking at their phones, reading and texting. At a family table, the man is looking to see if his wife will notice that the youngest is pouring the contents of her plate onto the floor. And you’re distracted yourself, not paying attention to who you’re with. You’re hungry, indecisive, yet impatient that you haven’t been waited on yet.
It is interesting to me that two persons mentioned consistently together in almost if not every Gospel story during Holy Week are Jesus and Judas. Another striking consistency is that every single Gospel story we hear during Holy Week involves people gathered around, or “reclining,” at a table for a meal. From the “table-sides” of these gospels, we hear the recounting of the fateful meals that Jesus shared with both his friends and his enemies prior to his death and resurrection. We hear of the frailty of failed conviction in the bitterness of betrayal juxtaposed with the abundant extravagance of the deepest form of love imagined.
There’s Martha preparing the table for Lazarus and Jesus, while Mary decides to wash Jesus’ feet with some expensive perfumed oil, which apparently horrifies Judas. At another “table,” we see Jesus get up from the table and try to convince his disciples to allow him to WHAT…wash their feet! In a remote “table” in the back, in low lighting, we see the eyes of shame, sorrow, and love as bread is broken, dipped in wine and shared. The convicted Judas exits, and Jesus becomes somber. All of these stories occur at a “table” of everything imaginable – everything that we can name as “good” or “bad.”
As for many of us, some of the most profound experiences that I have had, it seems, have occurred during gathering with others for a meal in some shape or form. I have had some of the most entertaining moments of my life around a table. I have also had some of the most hilarious times and the most painful times seated at table with others. Stories have been told, laughter has erupted, songs have been sung, tears have fallen, voices have raised, fists have clenched, hands have grasped, and eyes have met as well as diverted! People have left the table in hurt and anger. People have been invited back to the table, and some have come back to the table. Some have not.
It is a great gift to prepare and serve a meal to others. The care and concern that goes into preparing it is an act of love, but beautifully, this act can open itself outward towards the mystery of what can happen when people gather and potentially connect. The beauty of a meal is captured when the gathering itself serves to connect the reciprocal flow of sharing and receiving. However, it’s not always “nice” or “pretty” or even very comfortable. But that doesn’t mean that it must ultimately end in death, destruction, and disconnection.
Could it be that everything is a “meal” that can provide nourishment – the joyous laughter as well as the sometimes excruciating pain? We do meet strangers and seeming enemies at table, but we also meet friends and family – and sometimes it can be hard to distinguish between these… Who is Judas? Who is Jesus? Who am I? Who are you? Surely it is not I?
The ambiance of a shared meal can allow us to lower our “guards” so as to see others and ourselves in new and revealing ways. In as many different emotions that can arise in this “reclining at table,” it seems to me that underneath (or sometimes quite overtly) it is the experience of vulnerability that surfaces. And, I am convinced that in this vulnerable space there is, even though seemingly the slightest sometimes, a genuine opportunity for the experience of compassion and forgiveness.
A couple of years ago during Holy Week, I had the opportunity to see the play “Dead Man Walking”, and it occurred to me that this was truly a passion story. How fitting to experience this on the day before Palm/Passion Sunday. Some of the lines in the play that have stuck with me the most are the ones spoken by the character of Helen Prejean’s mother. In one place, she tells Helen that she is “trying to save Judas,” and in another, she clarifies for Helen that “you’re looking for a love that’s so big it takes in all evil.”
This is my prayer: I want to BE at the table with others and really listen to what’s being said, to laugh and cry with them, to speak my story, to forgive and ask for forgiveness, and to really accept forgiveness. I want to participate in the sometimes quite unexpected healing that both challenges and soothes! And the main reason I want this is because it cannot happen to me alone, it will happen to others too – it will happen to us together!
“Annunciations are common, Incarnations are rare!”
Peace,
Thomas
(written April 7, 2015)