“So, after receiving the piece of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night.” (John 13:30)
At the Maundy Thursday service last night at my parish, our visiting Quaker (because we have a visiting Quaker for Holy Week this year, which has been a fascinating experience in and of itself) gave the sermon, and talked about what the Last Supper, and indeed all of Holy Week, might have felt like for the disciples. Intense. Unsettling. Confusing.
I, of course, like all of you, know the end of the Easter story; I think I likely knew the end, the Resurrection, before I knew the beginning or the middle of the narrative. And that knowledge of what is to come inevitably shapes our perspective on the rest of the events. But the sermon called our attention to the fact that for those who were having these experiences, they didn’t know how it would turn out. The disciples at the Last Supper didn’t know it was the last. And they were likely rather confused as to why Jesus was adding an unfamiliar ritual to the meal, instructing them to eat bread and drink wine in remembrance of him. Read More

who were hurt during the three and a half years it was in place? Do Church leaders seriously expect us to believe that it was just the will of God that they suffer, but that now God has changed his mind? This change feels similar to the changes made in the endowment ceremony just a couple of months ago. It was great that the hierarchy-imposing structure was reduced, but it was awful that there was not even a mention of the pain that had been caused to so many women by the the “hearken” and “obey” covenants and the resulting power differential they were put under.
hed our bishop and told him he wanted to do just one year and do a service mission. Happily, our bishop was on board, and he’s been very supportive through the whole process. The process of getting my son officially called was long and drawn out because the way the Church was handling service missions was in the middle of a major change when my son went to the bishop. So it took a while, but he’s finally official and doing his work. He seems to be enjoying it.


. . . . The moment [the ward librarian’s] back was turned some breezy teacher would waltz in to make a few copies, ignoring the “library demons only” sign on the scriptorium and wouldn’t you know it, the parchment would get stuck or start unravelling uncontrollably. Oh look, there it goes again. “This is so typical,” she thought as she heaved a giant tome of “church illustrations volume 7” onto the checkout desk. “At least I get to miss Sunday school and talk with my friend.” Despite its drawbacks, the Ward Librarian was a plum job even back then.


