Since today is Holy Thursday, I thought I’d take an early detour from my sporadic blogging about our pilgrimage and jump to Day 6—the day we visited the Upper Room, where the Last Supper is said to have taken place and where Jesus instituted the Eucharist and the Priesthood.
The Upper Room, or Cenacle (from the Latin words for dinner (cena)) was a bit of a blur. I remember being surprised when I learned that the Upper Room was not only where the Last Supper took place and where Jesus washed the feet of his Disciples, but also where the Apostles and the Blessed Mother stayed during the days after Jesus was crucified, and where Pentecost took place—where the Holy Spirit descended upon everyone present.
Wikipedia says “The building has experienced numerous cycles of destruction and reconstruction, culminating in the Gothic structure which stands today.” And I think that’s sort of what made my visit there feel a bit blurry. This is one of the many places in the Holy Land that are not what they once were. This is not the room where the Last Supper took place. That building was torn down centuries ago… as was the building that was built on top of those ruins, and the building built on top of the ruins of that building, and so on.
But tradition tells us that the important events we commemorate today took place in a room that was located there. So, it takes a little inner quietness to get to that space, where you can look past the Gothic style of the building and the stained glass windows that show that this room used to be a mosque… and see this.
I think Tintoretto’s Last Supper is the best. While everyone’s clothes might not be historically accurate, I love the angels. I also love the way the room—or the look of the room—doesn’t matter. Because, in truth, it doesn’t matter where this took place, but that it took place.
I’m not going to attempt to explain the significance of the events we commemorate today. That’s been done by people of greater intelligence and holiness than me (or is it I? I told you I wasn’t that smart… LOL). I will be reading them today, though—Fulton Sheen’s Life of Christ, Pope Benedict XVI’s Jesus Christ, Part II. And I’ll be going to Mass tonight at 7:30, and probably sobbing the entire time.
I guess the best thing I can say about today, and the holy days that we’re entering into, is that I am grateful. I mean, think about it: Jesus knew what was about to happen to him, and yet he still had the composure to have this dinner, to celebrate and institute the Eucharist, to make men he knew were about to leave him in fear his first priests.
He knows how silly we are. And yet He still loves us. He still decided to die for us in such a horrific manner. He knew every betrayal that would happen from then until the end of time, and yet He did it anyway.
Aside from being grateful, it also makes me think, am I as forgiving of others as He is of me? Because I know how often I fail, and yet I still have the nerve to approach that sanctuary and take Communion.