Remembrance and betrayal

After Luke 22:12-23 

It is here, the final 

Passover meal he

knows they will

share together. His

words confuse; he

speaks of imminent

suffering. He takes

a cup, calling

the wine his blood,

telling them to divide

it among themselves

and drink it. He takes

the unleavened bread,

breaking it, and calls

it his body. And they

are to drink the wine

and eat the bread

in remembrance. And

there’s more: He tells

them that the one who

betrays him sits 

at the table, one

who has eaten

the bread and

drunk the cup.

 

Photograph by Valentina Fischer at Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Friday Readings 

 

The Colosseum – Br. Roland Wakefield at The Imaginative Conservative.

 

Sin – two poems by Gwenallt at Kingdom Poets (D.S. Martin).

 

America’s professor: the afterlife of C.S. Lewis – David Davis at The Spectator.

 

Glorifying War? Reflections on Hollywood’s 1951 Adaptation of The Red Badge of Courage – Heath Anderson at Emerging Civil War.

 

Fogs & Smogs of Old London – Spitalfields Life.

 

My Old Friend is Ripping Down Posters of Kidnapped Children – Candace Mittel Kahn at The Free Press.

Bravado forestalled

After Luke 22:31-34 

It’s a play in three acts. 

First, the warning, 

a demand to sift 

a disciple like wheat, 

to show what

little wheat and what

great chaff is there, 

a demand countered

by a prayer for faith 

to endure; followed 

by an assigned mission 

to strengthen the faithful

when the crisis passes.

 

Act 2: the bravado,

the claim of readiness

to follow to prison,

to follow to death,

the claim stated

with the courage

of not knowing

how close were both.

 

And then Act 3:

the prediction,

the certainty

of denial,

the certainty

that courage

would fail,

coupled with 

the sign to expect

a rooster to crow

not once but

three times.

 

Photograph by Hulki Okan Tabak via Unsplash. Used with permission.

A supper of bread, wine

After Luke 22:14-23 

It’s set before them,

this simple meal of bread

and wine, a familiar rite

performed each year, 

a rite of remembrance.

 

This meal is a rite

of remembrance, but

remembrance forward,

a meal of passing over

becoming a meal

of passed over, named

for the one whose blood

is splashed on the door,

the sign given to save

those within.

 

They take bread,

break it.

They drink wine,

share it.

Forever.

 

Photograph by Sandro Gonzalez via Unsplash. Used with permission.

An upper room

After Luke 22:7-13

He sends them to find

a place, a room for the meal,

the meal to remember

the passing of the angel

of death over the dwellings,

sparing those with a splash

of lamb’s blood on the door.

They gather each year,

ss commanded, with family,

a quiet, somber gathering

to remember the escape

from death, a celebration

of death avoided, death

redeemed, life secured.

 

They find the room,

as directed, furnished

and prepared for the meal.

They gather to remember

the sacrifice of the lamb.

 

Photograph by George Desipris via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The lull before

After Mark 14:12-31

It is the usual meal,

the annual observance

of deliverance from

the angel of death

in the land of pharaoh,

the last and ultimate

plague foretold,

the death of the firstborn.

It is a celebration, yet

quiet and somber,

an annual thanksgiving

for salvation, redemption.

And yet. And yet.

This is different.

No plans are made.

It’s all last minute,

almost haphazard,

but directed, the man

with the water jug

will lead them 

to the house,

to the upper room.

Imagine the surprise

of the two disciples

told to do this.

They prepare the meal.

He talks of many things.

Betrayal by one present.

Betrayal by one who dips

bread.

He talks of the bread,

with a threefold command:

take it, eat it, understand it

as my body.

He talks of the wine,

with a threefold command:

take it, drink it, understand it

as my blood pour out.

They sing. They go 

to the olive groves

to rest, to pray.

The night begins.

It is the lull before.

Photograph by James Coleman via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Meal and memory

After Matthew 26:26-35

Bread and wine were

the meal, the bread

unleavened, the meal

designed as the memory

or memorial to the night

that death passed over,

the angel wreaking

destruction, looking

and passing on without

stopping. For that

to happen required

a sacrifice of an animal,

a lamb unblemished,

the blood smeared over 

the door, a sign, the sign

of the lamb, the lamb was

a sign, the angel a reality.

A lamb had to die

so those within could

live.

Bread and wine were

the meal, the bread

unleavened, the meal

designed as a sign

and a reality.

Photograph by James Coleman via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Clean feet

After John 13:1-17

To wash the feet of another

is an act of humility, an act

of service, an act of servanthood,

recognizing that to lead 

is to serve, to wash the feet

is to disregard 

where the feet have been,

the feet encrusted 

with dirt and mud and filth

from the walking, the journey.

To wash the feet is 

to ignore the calluses and 

scars and deadened skin.

To wash the feet is

to accept those feet,

that heart, that soul,

touching those feet

with eternity.

Photograph by Cristian Newman via Unsplash. Used with permission.

A bowl of water

After John 13:1-17

A simple thing, this bowl,

filled with water.

A simple act, to wash

feet dirty from the dust

of travel and walking,

A simple statement, why

do you do this, implied

if not explicit.

A simple outburst, I will

wash your feet instead.

A simple response,

you must allow me,

if you are part of me.

All simple yet not,

understanding not

grasped until explained,

a kind of parable 

of the master who washed

the feet of his slave.

Photograph by Tom Crew via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The Art of Brother Mel

In November, our church had its annual art fair. It’s actually a fairly prestigious event – your work had to be submitted and accepted, and a select group of judges evaluates each work and awards ribbons in various categories. About 100 works adorned the walls of Sunday School classes and hallways, or rested on tables and pedestals.

Submissions to the show can come from the community at large, and quite a few people from outside our church participate. The first weekend the show was open, I walked into my Sunday School class and was amazed at the quality (the room for our class ended up with most of the sculpture).

A metal sculpture on one wall caught my eye. It was clearly a representation of the Last Supper, but the individual figures were real spikes, bent to resemble Jesus and the 12 disciples. The sculpture was done in the style of Michelangelo’s Last Supper, with the figures seated and facing in the same direction. The appearance is not polished but rather rough. I was so taken by the sculpture that I took a picture of it with my smart phone (the photo above).

The artist was Brother Mel Meyer, a Marianist who lives and works at St. John Vianney High School in my own St. Louis suburb of Kirkwood. I had seen metal sculptures on the campus some years ago, when my oldest played sports for a rival high school, but I had no idea that the artist lived and worked there.

The price was reasonable; I told my wife I knew what I wanted for a Christmas present. And then I called the number listed for the gallery at the school. They held the sculpture for me until we could come pick it up.

When we arrived at the gallery one cold Saturday earlier this month, we discovered the world of Brother Mel Meyer. And what a world it is.

Sculpture. Oil paintings. Watercolors. Frescoes. Furniture. Pottery. Brother Mel’s work runs the gamut of media.

We wandered around the gallery (several rooms and on two levels), examining the pieces while under the half-dozing eye of an elderly man helping customers.

The elderly man turned out to be Brother Mel.

A native of the St. Louis area, he has been a resident artist for more than 35 years. He studied in Switzerland and Paris, and earned a Master of Arts degree at the University of Notre Dame. There’s even a wonderful coffee table book about his life and work, entitled Brother Mel: A Lifetime of Making Art by Anne Brown.

It was a wonderful time. He fetched the Last Supper from the back; it's – not surprisingly – heavy, heavier than it looks, and we have to get someone in to anchor it on my office wall. We also bought the book and a crucifix (pictured).

I could have spent a lot of money in that gallery.

Perhaps that best place in the building is a small room that seems a kind of chapel. There are no seats, but simply to stand in that quiet place furnished with religious art was a moving experience.

St. Louis has many wonderful attractions – the Arch, the world-class zoo (still free), the Botanical Garden and many others – but the gallery of Brother Mel Meyer is worth repeated visits.

Photographs: Top - Last Supper by Brother Mel Meyer (2010).
                     At right: Crucifix by Brother Mel Meyer (2010).