When I worked with youth, one of my favorite events was an agape meal. It started as a Seder and I eventually started calling it “What Would Jesus Eat” which I found hilarious. The teenagers rarely behaved, but somehow, something meaningful always came out of it.
While I love the contemplative and austere liturgy of Maundy Thursday, I miss the joy that came with my meal with twenty teenagers. So, while I was upset that I would not be leading worship in my historic and beautiful church for Holy Week, I looked forward to a casual agape meal with my husband and four-year-old son. In preparation, I sent everyone in my parish a copy of a simple agape meal with prayers, readings and some basic instructions. It was a resource provided by Virginia Seminary and it was simple enough I thought that even my extraordinarily active child would be able to make it through the service without a major incident.
I was excited about the food as I am a vegetarian and love an excuse to eat bread, hummus and baby carrots for a meal. But then, as it so often does, life happened. The day got away from me and I didn’t even have time to prepare a simple platter of food Jesus might have eaten for my husband and I to enjoy. My son wanted chicken nuggets and we ate leftovers. I did congratulate myself on the bread I whipped up right before we sat down. (The benefit of un-leaven bread—perfect for people in a rush.)
I put left over Christmas candles out and we made it through the first prayer. My son refused to participate and instead attempted to drown his nuggets in ketchup. When he accomplished that mission halfway through the first reading, he screamed and stole the paper with the liturgy and ran outside.
Having worked with teenagers, I felt like I was prepared for some level of mischief, but none of the teenagers ever attempted to abscond with the liturgy. When we finally got it back, it was covered in ketchup. My son immediately blew out the candles as that is his God given right. I let that go as I was just relieved he didn’t set anything on fire. I started the Psalm and he asked how long he had to wait to watch TV. “How long O Lord? How long?” That was not the Psalm, but it will be next year if I have my way.
I would like to tell you that I sat him down and calmly explained what we were doing. I would like to tell you I saw a spark of understanding in his beautiful brown eyes. I didn’t. There wasn’t. Instead, I looked at my husband and said, “There is only one way we will finish this liturgy.” He nodded, and I got up and led my son to the TV. I returned to the table with the extinguished candles and the half eaten nuggets. We finished the prayers and I drank my wine. That was the end of our meal.
I always had a vision of what life as a priest and mother would look like. I read charming Facebook stories from other clergy about their perceptive and holy children. I never thought it would be easy, but I thought it would be something other than this.
Every day, I fail as a parent and a priest, usually at the very same time. What I try to remember is how Jesus must have felt with his disciples in that final meal. Surely, it wasn’t what he had hoped it would be. Of course he was all knowing, but I still like to think he hoped for more from his friends. Yet somehow, despite the stubborn will of humanity, God’s will was done. I find comfort that even my defiant four-year-old and my impatient self will never thwart the will of God.
Next year as I listen to Psalm 22 chanted in our darkened church, a piece of me will long to be in my messy kitchen with my child so full of life, that no liturgy can tame him.
[Image Credit: Mike Mozart via Flickr]
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So very nicely done, Samantha! I cling to the idea that nothing will thwart the will of God — not a defiant four year old, not our impatient selves, nothing! Such an appropriate thing of which to be reminded during these times when we all want to do something like drown chicken nuggets in ketchup.
Thank you for reading Bishop Susan! I mostly just want to drown things in chocolate.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading this and could envision the whole scene as it went down. Thank you for sharing your everyday experiences. It is one of the many attributes that help us to feel connected with you as our pastoral leader. I have told my children the saying, “This too shall pass,” but many times now that they’re grown and we have weathered many storms together, my children will say that saying back to me. I guess what I’m saying is that as a Mom, we do weather many a frantic day, evening with our children. But what they do remember is not always the situation per say, but our reaction to it. Your reaction in your last line says everything….” a child so full of life that no liturgy could contain”. You get him….he will remember that feeling.
Thanks Diana! I have to admit that it took me about a week to get to the point where I could write the last time. Sometimes it takes some perspective!
I enjoyed your account – which, I am sure, resonated with many of your readers.
One thing jumped out, however: “Of course he was all knowing …” which is the kind of theology that can lead you into some unfortunate places. Jesus (as we are taught) was fully human AND fully divine, but his two natures are/were not all mixed up together into a soup. In his human nature (in his incarnation) he had no more “all knowing” superpowers than you or I have. That is the power and the beauty of the incarnation. His despair, his suffering, his doubts and questions were FULLY HUMAN.
I’m sure the Jesus of history would have been into the nuggets and ketchup alongside your son, when he was that age, too!
I love your last line, “a child so full of life that no liturgy can contain”. I think this resonates with me because I am always reminded that we are to come to Jesus as children……. open, trusting and so full of life that no liturgy can contain.. I too tried my best to incorporate all those great Christian Formation activities into my home and family life.. (to the point that my children came to dread the advent season- if we sing one more verse ofO Come, O Come Emmanuel…… I’m leaving (and then he would). We grown-ups. So misguided but well intending. Our only hope is that God’s mercy is wide and deep. Keep up the work my dear.
Thank you. That is a helpful reminder–that we come to Jesus as children.
This is good. So good. Thank you!
A wonderfully perceptive piece. Life does get in the way – a lot. The world can be such a noisy place. It’s comforting to know that we can find some sort of comfort and peace in the messiness of our own homes! Thank you for the insight, Samantha!
Thanks for reading Denine!
Thanks for the reality check! I love your comment that Jesus likely felt the same … and I suspects did so at many of the meals over which he presided. Life is full of random humility checks.
Indeed it is. I feel like I have them hourly!