A Lenten Reflection
The power of what we remember
On this sunny late afternoon I'm listening to a music list from my high school days (we all have moments of nostalgia, don't we?) and I just finished a call with my Dad. Parents are precious, and I hadn't had the chance for a bit to have a good long talk with my Dad; we've always been close and able to talk, so it was really good to catch up. As we were wrapping up the call, I thought about putting dinner on, I have some chicken drumsticks set out. All of a sudden, I could almost taste the way my Dad often baked his seasoned chicken, and I wanted very much to be sitting at my parent's table again, enjoying that meal.
So I'm baking chicken tonight in the way he taught me, and maybe I'll even make some new potatoes and green beans, another of his specialties. (Though I'll have to cheat and use frozen green beans, as I have no fresh on hand.) Perhaps some honey corn bread too, that's the way my Mom always makes it. Dinner is sounding pretty good to me already, and a way to hold and taste memories.
Memory is powerful, isn't it? Certain foods, scents, sounds, phrases transport us to a place tucked in the corner of our minds, and secured in our hearts. Whether good, or bad, memory lingers.
I wonder, as Jesus was waking towards Jerusalem for that last Passover with His Disciples, where His mind and heart went to in the quiet moments. When He wasn't teaching valuable, last lessons. When He wasn't ministering. As they ate, did He allow Himself to recall foods His mother had made when He was young? Did He remember festivals and feasts from years back, did those memories bring a soft smile? Did He, as He walked the long road ahead, think of working in His adopted father Joseph's carpenter shop? Did the scent of shaved wood and the warmth of summer afternoons come into His heart? Did He recall the love and warmth of the home He grew up in, as He journeyed to the Cross where death awaited?
It would not be long before He gave the Disciples, and all of us who would follow later, a command about memory. At that last supper, He gave us the bread and the wine, with the charge, "Do this in remembrance of Me." Each time we are blessed enough to partake in the Eucharist, we are to pause and recall what He gave for us, and what He gives to us now, and we honor Him by the remembering. By keeping it close to our hearts and carrying it with us.
How we keep the Lord's word shows our love; as we remember what He has taught, what He has commanded, not only in the Eucharist but in all things, Jesus becomes all the more precious unto us. As the memory and love I bear for my parents will be with me tonight as I make a meal they taught me, so the memory and love I bear for my Lord is with me, clearly and distinctly, as I live my life for Him. As I remember His great love for me, my own love grows in response.
Remember the Lord, your God, and delight in His love and mercies. Remember the Lord, your God, and all the things which He has done. Remember the Lord, your God, and keep His word in your heart.
On towards the Cross,
-Beth Haynes Butler
The power of what we remember
On this sunny late afternoon I'm listening to a music list from my high school days (we all have moments of nostalgia, don't we?) and I just finished a call with my Dad. Parents are precious, and I hadn't had the chance for a bit to have a good long talk with my Dad; we've always been close and able to talk, so it was really good to catch up. As we were wrapping up the call, I thought about putting dinner on, I have some chicken drumsticks set out. All of a sudden, I could almost taste the way my Dad often baked his seasoned chicken, and I wanted very much to be sitting at my parent's table again, enjoying that meal.
So I'm baking chicken tonight in the way he taught me, and maybe I'll even make some new potatoes and green beans, another of his specialties. (Though I'll have to cheat and use frozen green beans, as I have no fresh on hand.) Perhaps some honey corn bread too, that's the way my Mom always makes it. Dinner is sounding pretty good to me already, and a way to hold and taste memories.
Memory is powerful, isn't it? Certain foods, scents, sounds, phrases transport us to a place tucked in the corner of our minds, and secured in our hearts. Whether good, or bad, memory lingers.
I wonder, as Jesus was waking towards Jerusalem for that last Passover with His Disciples, where His mind and heart went to in the quiet moments. When He wasn't teaching valuable, last lessons. When He wasn't ministering. As they ate, did He allow Himself to recall foods His mother had made when He was young? Did He remember festivals and feasts from years back, did those memories bring a soft smile? Did He, as He walked the long road ahead, think of working in His adopted father Joseph's carpenter shop? Did the scent of shaved wood and the warmth of summer afternoons come into His heart? Did He recall the love and warmth of the home He grew up in, as He journeyed to the Cross where death awaited?
It would not be long before He gave the Disciples, and all of us who would follow later, a command about memory. At that last supper, He gave us the bread and the wine, with the charge, "Do this in remembrance of Me." Each time we are blessed enough to partake in the Eucharist, we are to pause and recall what He gave for us, and what He gives to us now, and we honor Him by the remembering. By keeping it close to our hearts and carrying it with us.
How we keep the Lord's word shows our love; as we remember what He has taught, what He has commanded, not only in the Eucharist but in all things, Jesus becomes all the more precious unto us. As the memory and love I bear for my parents will be with me tonight as I make a meal they taught me, so the memory and love I bear for my Lord is with me, clearly and distinctly, as I live my life for Him. As I remember His great love for me, my own love grows in response.
Remember the Lord, your God, and delight in His love and mercies. Remember the Lord, your God, and all the things which He has done. Remember the Lord, your God, and keep His word in your heart.
On towards the Cross,
-Beth Haynes Butler
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