These days, I look forward as much as I look back.
I look back to the Cross, to the Last Supper, to the millions that came before me, and I’m oriented to my place in the bigger story, the words are worn soft by so many speakers. But some little part of my soul is looking forward, I can see the lights of a city on a hill growing bright, and it makes me want to fling open the doors, the Bridegroom is coming, can’t you feel that? I want to say, the tears are pricking, my heart is beating, something is happening here, Someone is happening here.
So, I’d like to set up a banquet table in the woods, or maybe in my front street, maybe back on the downtown Eastside surrounded by social housing and shelters, it doesn’t really matter. Maybe it would be a big farmhouse table knocked together by my carpenter husband, he’d love to do it, I know. I’d gather metal lawn chairs and tree stumps, throw down picnic blankets and ratty old quilts.
I’d put stubs of candles into tin cans, string paper lanterns from the trees, trace a few prayer circles out of river stones, stuff wildflowers and dandelions into mason jars. You can wear what you want, no white dresses required, bring your friends.
In fact, I’d stand in the field, in the streets, banging on pots and pans, maybe singing off-key, calling every one out. It would be nice if you brought enough to share, or were at least willing to share your small bit, but you don’t have to, if you can’t, well, that’s okay with us.
I’ve learned that He is enough, so I’m not worried. I’d like us all to sit down together, to pray, to talk, to sit in silence, to read Scripture, speak over again the centuries of blessings, go for a walk in the words, maybe a swim, laugh until our sides ache. I’d like to pour wine or grape juice into that never-used wedding crystal goblet you’ve been saving for a special occasion.
We could feed each other, with real food, none of that lame cracker stuff. No, we’ll eat yeasty bread, tomatoes, strawberries, sweet and sour and salty, until we are full. Receive it, celebrate it, take it, receive it, turn around and feed each other.
And I would tell you that this, this feast, this food, this wine, the light in the trees, the wonder, these gorgeous flawed people, this gathering, this world, it’s the body broken for you, and the blood spilled out, and we are all remembering that, the best we can, most days, and He, He is with us always, even to the end of the age.