Finding The Place

With The Price Is Right providing the soundtrack to my morning today’s Scripture for my Ignatian retreat was Matthew 26:20-30. (Okay, it was two weeks ago, but so what?)

Enter God’s graceful sense of humor about my annual post-Triduum ritual of depression, disappointment, self-doubt, and other self-centered questions. I was talking out loud on the way to my wife’s outpatient surgery, wondering about my place. Right job. Right state. Right church, even.

She, of course, was paying little serious attention to the content.

A few hours later, while waiting for the ear surgeon to emerge, I was drawn to this small line in the Last Supper:

… he took his place …

Expanding a bit beyond the Benedictine practice of lectio divina, I’ve been challenged to explore the more Ignatian practice of imagining myself in the scene. That hasn’t been working well. (I’ve even been debating internally if I have the right religious tradition within Catholicism.)

So I found myself, with surprising ease, walking up the steps with Jesus to the Upper Room. Preparations for the Passover were in full gear, but feeling I had no place there–I was drawn to Jesus taking his place–I contented myself with walking with the Lord around the outskirts of the room. What is my place?

Whenever I might be tempted to leave behind the nonsense of Roman Catholicism there I was in the setting of the Eucharist. “Take, eat,” and so on. When I get ridiculous, there is no answer, of course, for it. My wife remains silent while I prattle. Jesus seems to know me as well.

Even with Drew Carey providing absurdity in the background, I thought the morning was a fruitful one. My first real journaling in a week. My wife is home resting, stapedectomy managed. I’d like to think I’m not a creature of habit, so much. But over the years, I find I gravitate to the left side of people, even if they aren’t deaf in the right ear. Hopefully I won’t need to do that any longer. My wife and I might be able to have a conversation in the car while she’s driving.

And maybe I’ll pay closer attention when the Lord is speaking.

About catholicsensibility

Todd lives in Minnesota, serving a Catholic parish as a lay minister.
This entry was posted in Lectio Divina, My Family, Scripture, spirituality and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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