Maundy Thursday

Note to self: Maybe I should just watch some of the more gut-wrenching services before I volunteer to participate in them. Then again, I had the best seat in the house for all of the action.

I have never been to a Maundy Thursday service before. And I had never seen a service that included feet washing. I thought the idea was so weird until I was there. After our priest washes the congregants feet, he blessed the person, and Gil tailors his blessing to the person. There is no cookie-cutter way of doing the blessing and he seems to know exactly what one needs to hear. My job was to hold the cross behind the person whose feet Gil was washing, so I heard all of the blessings. Maundy Thursday can be an emotionally wracking service because one is symbolically left with the sense of Christ's absence. After communion, all of the host is consumed, there are no consecrated elements left in the tabernacle (special attention is paid to showing the congregation that the ciborium is empty), the presence candle nearby is snuffed, and the ciborium's veil is replaced by a black shroud. The altar party then processes out of the sanctuary, and the altar guild then strips the altar. The altar lights are extinguished, not to be burned again until the end of the Easter vigil.

So, I was at this emotionally draining service for the first time, verge of tears for most of it. And I was the crucifer and acolyte. The closest I came to breaking down was watching the altar being stripped after we had processed out. I felt a true sense of loss. Walking back into the sanctuary afterward, I tried to say something. I opened my mouth and nothing came out. I left in silence.