By Orlando Hernandez
There are times, when I sit before the Altar of the Lord, and I feel like such a “mess”.
In the Gospel for Wednesday of Holy Week we read :
“On the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, the disciples approached Jesus and said, ‘Where do you want us to prepare for you to eat the Passover?’ He said, ‘Go into the city to a certain man and tell him, “The teacher says, ‘my appointed time draws near; in your house I shall celebrate the Passover with my disciples.’”’The disciples then did as Jesus had ordered, and prepared the Passover.” (Mt 26:17-19)
I often wonder about this “certain man” who offered his home for Jesus to dine with His disciples. Did he tidy up his house? Did he get a chance to also participate in the miraculous meal that took place in the “upper room” of his house? I have this vision of my Lord coming to my door every morning inviting Himself to the home I occupy, my very self, body and soul. I think of the beloved verse from Revelation 3:20 : “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, then I will enter his house and dine with him, and he with me.”
How intimate, how precious. Sometimes when I receive the Eucharist this image comes into my very heart. I rest in it, with You, my Lord. But often, unfortunately, a set of disturbing characters rush in to join us at the table. They need so much to be with You, but look at who some of them are: a hot head, a cripple, a lech, a leech, a know-it-all, a liar, a miser, a doubter, a coward, a denier, even a betrayer. I am so ashamed and embarrassed! Will You walk out? You never did, in Your many dinners with so many unsavory folks. And You don’t leave this house of mine that You bless.
You even stoop to wash our feet! You give us Your love. You sanctify us. You bless us. You even invite us to join You at Your House, with Your Father. You heal and forgive us. You bathe us with the light of Your Eternal Life. You give us Your Holy Spirit! Why do You love us like this?
Perhaps You look past us, through us, at the beloved little person You created. Your eyes tell me that You see someone beautiful. Is it really me?