Holy Thursdays of Long Ago

Holy Thursday was always very special to me, growing up in Panama, for several reasons, but mainly two:  "la procesión del silencio" and "los monumentos."

Each of these events are tightly associated with Holy Thursday in Panama.  In my memories, each of these events is tightly associated with my parents.

What is commonly referred to as "La procesión del silencio" or, loosely translated, "The procession of silence" is exactly that, a procession up the main street of my hometown where men, only men, silently walk or process all the way, up the long, main street, accompanying a statue of Jesus of Nazareth that represents the moment when He was arrested after the Last Supper out of His intense time of prayer and meditation in the Garden of Olives.  Men fill the street, surrounded by the low whispers of the bystanders and the echo of their shoes hitting the pavement.  It is the most solemn of processions of the entire Holy Week celebration in our town.  It gives all a time to ponder and contemplate on the events that developed a couple of thousands of years ago, which altered the course of the history of the world.  It was a special time for me, because my Dad always, always walked along his friends and acquaintances, in his tall, sober way.  I'd always, always spot him right away, and followed his slender figure all the way to the church, where the men would come in, pay respects, set the statue on a place of honor and quietly leave or wander toward their families to go see "los monumentos."

"Los monumentos"  typically set up to the left of the main altar in the church, it's a special way to display the Sacrament of the Eucharist to symbolize Christ with us.  Each church takes great pride on decorating the "monumento" and it stands tall, as, exactly that, a monument to what Christ has done for us in His Death and Resurrection.  My Mom and I would visit as many churches around town to pay our respects as we meditated on Jesus' Sacrifice and the forgiveness of our sins.  It was a treasured time for me, to see my Mother's devotion and faith in display, as a gentle reminder of what the soul of a woman of God ought to look like.

Today, in this cold and dreary April morning, when we are about to celebrate Maundy Thursday isolated from society...I can't help but to reminisce of these Holy Thursdays of long ago.  It will be 8 years of my Dad's passing. And this April 17th, it will be 20 since my Mom's departure...but I can still vividly see them with the eyes of my memories.  My Dad, tall and slender, full of honor and integrity, with the rigidity of an Oak... my Mom, petite and gentle, with the softness of the flowers in a quiet valley... the people who made me who I am ... the people who gave me life ... the people who handed down a faith in the God Above which has transformed me from the inside out...the people who loved me unconditionally...the people who I have been without for so long...

This Holy Thursday will be different in so many ways to those of long ago, but the spirit remains:  a spirit of silence and contemplation, made even stronger by the circumstances of today...a calling to sitting still in the Presence of the One Who Gave it All for Us...

May our day be a "monument" to Christ and in the silence of our souls, may we hear His voice telling us: I AM Still Here!  In the Precious Name of Our Lord, Jesus, Amen!