Today started out cloudy, but the sun is peeking through and chasing away the clouds. The sky is getting bluer and bluer. It is my sloth day, the only day this week with no appointment. I have a chore, an odd one. I need to put the new flag holder outside on the tree. That’s it for the day.
Today is Holy Thursday, Maundy Thursday, a Christian holiday celebrating the Last Supper so the service is always at night. Part of the service is the ritual of the washing of feet meant to symbolize how Christ humbled Himself and washed the feet of the disciples. I never went to church on Holy Thursday. I always figured Sunday was more than enough for the week except for one special year, the year my grandfather was having his feet washed by the priest in a re-creation of what happened at the Last Supper. No way was I going to miss that. My grandfather was a short, gruff man filled with self-importance. He wasn’t a warm man. He wasn’t one of my favorites. My mother and I sat together in the church. I assume my father was there but he didn’t sit with us. One of my favorite parts of that service was the waving of the incense. The altar boy filled the gold incense burner and the priest sort of waved the burner to each section of the church. The incense smelled exotic. I still love that smell. The highlight of the evening, of course, was when the men walked barefoot onto the altar and sat on stiff chairs with red leather on the back and on the seat. I have no idea why I remember that. All of the men wore suits and sort of looked a bit silly being barefooted. My mother and I watched quietly until it came to my grandfather’s turn. He gave the priest one foot which was washed then dried and then gave the priest the other foot. My mother and I started laughing quietly. We couldn’t help it. My pompous grandfather looked so solemn. That made us laugh even harder. Our shoulders were shaking and the pew was shaking, but we didn’t utter a sound the whole time. We tried to stop but couldn’t. We didn’t dare look at each other. I can’t imagine what the people around us thought.
When the service was over, we hurried outside and started laughing again. It was hysterically funny to both of us. We never did tell my father. We didn’t think he’d appreciate the humor of it all.
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