Painting by Tissot

Holy Thursday.
Maundy Thursday.
Last Supper.
Washing Feet.
Beginning of the Passion.
Tenebrae.
A hard somber night, leading into a hard day.
Jangled, disjointed, stripping the altar, moving the Blessed Sacrament out of the tabernacle.
Empty.
I always feel like crying at this service, “Don’t take him!” my heart foolishly calls.
And then it is silent.
And we file out, in the sad silent dark from the now empty church.
He is gone.
It’s Holy Thursday…..so it begins.

*reposted from a years ago.  Every year. It’s this.