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#Introduction
I'm a #dad and an #anglican, married to a #byzantine #catholic, who has a profound interest in the multiple #liturgical streams of #Christianity and gains value from them. I also love #history, #trivia (#learnedleague), #books, and #travel. -
Maundy Thursday Shadow Sketches
As part of a Service of Shadows for Maundy Thursday April 2, 2026, these sketches were drawn as each “shadow” of Christ’s final hours were read. I had a general idea before hand but for the most part each came together more or less spontaneously during the reading. I used a large flip chart in front of the congregation. As each candle was blown out, I flipped to a new page and once the reading began, started a new sketch. We then created a kind of gallery of the finished shadow sketches in the church.
View all of the “shadow sketches” at https://www.deviantart.com/peacegroover/gallery/100765113/service-of-shadows-maundy-thursday-2026
#churchArt #EasterSeason #FaithAndArt #GoodFriday #holyWeek #Lent #LiturgicalArt #maundyThursday #reflectiveArt #sacredArt #ServiceOfShadows #spiritualSketches #Tenebrae #worshipArt -
We’re thrilled to announce the launch of Season 2 of the Carmelite Quotes podcast! This season, we’re dedicated to bringing you the inspiring stories of Carmelite saints and our powerful novenas.
Following the Discalced Carmelite liturgical calendar, we’ll present the biographies and stories of our Saints and Blesseds as their feast days are observed by the Order. From the dynamic reformer St. Teresa of Avila to the humble and loving St. Thérèse of Lisieux, our episodes will deepen your understanding of these remarkable figures who dedicated their lives to union with God.
In addition to the saints and blesseds, we’ll introduce you to our Discalced Carmelites who have been declared Venerable and those Servants of God proposed for veneration. These holy men and women continue to inspire us with their lives of prayer, sacrifice, and unwavering faith.
But that’s not all. We’ll also explore the richness and spiritual depth of Carmelite novenas, providing you with the prayers and reflections that can enrich your spiritual life. These powerful novenas are a means of seeking God’s grace and intercession, whether you’re praying for a special intention or seeking a deeper communion with God. They are a powerful way to draw closer to the heart of Jesus through Mary and the saints.
We invite you to join us on this journey of faith and reflection. Subscribe to the Carmelite Quotes podcast on your favorite platform, including Spotify, Apple, Amazon Music, Audible, iHeart, and YouTube, and continue to visit carmelitequotes.blog to listen to episodes, find additional resources, reflections, and updates.
As we embark on this new season, let us be inspired by the lives of the Carmelite saints and their prayerful novenas. May their example and prayers lead us closer to God and deepen our spiritual journey.
Thank you for being a part of our Carmelite Quotes family. We look forward to sharing this journey with you.
Blessings from Carmel!
https://carmelitequotes.blog/2024/06/06/podcast-seas2/
#biography #blessed #DiscalcedCarmelite #inspiration #liturgicalCalendar #novena #Podcast #prayer #Saints #ServantOfGod #Venerable
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St. Anthony’s Italian Festival 2026: Dates, Hours, Food and New Events | The Latest from WDEL News https://www.diningandcooking.com/2673147/st-anthonys-italian-festival-2026-dates-hours-food-and-new-events-the-latest-from-wdel-news/ #AnthonyOfPadua #CatholicChurch #CatholicLiturgy #ChristianEvents #ChristianFestivals #ChristianFestivalsAndHolyDays #ChristianPractices #ChristianSaints #ChristianWorshipAndLiturgy #Christianity #Italia #Italian #ItalianFestival #ItalianFood #italiano #italy #LiturgicalCalendar #observances #ReligiousEvents #ReligiousHolidays #TimeInReligion #worship
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St. Anthony’s Italian Festival 2026: Dates, Hours, Food and New Events | The Latest from WDEL News https://www.diningandcooking.com/2673147/st-anthonys-italian-festival-2026-dates-hours-food-and-new-events-the-latest-from-wdel-news/ #AnthonyOfPadua #CatholicChurch #CatholicLiturgy #ChristianEvents #ChristianFestivals #ChristianFestivalsAndHolyDays #ChristianPractices #ChristianSaints #ChristianWorshipAndLiturgy #Christianity #Italia #Italian #ItalianFestival #ItalianFood #italiano #italy #LiturgicalCalendar #observances #ReligiousEvents #ReligiousHolidays #TimeInReligion #worship
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Maundy Night, in Fragments
It was night already—
#basinAndTowel #Betrayal #breadAndCup #candlelight #ChristianSymbolism #churchArt #Communion #contemplativeFaith #FootWashing #Gethsemane #HolyThursday #holyWeek #Judas #lastSupper #LiturgicalArt #maundyThursday #passionOfChrist #sacredStillLife #servantLove #SilverCoins #symbolicPhotography #Tenebrae
and the room was close,
low-beamed, breath-warmed,
troubled by the nearness of departure.
The lamp did not so much shine
as shudder.
There are nights
that seem to know.
The basin waited.
The towel waited.
The water, in its shallow little vessel,
held a silence deeper than the sea.
And He—
O strange reversal!—
He whose hands had lifted dust to life,
whose fingers had written mercy
upon the infirm flesh of the world,
stooped.
Stooped.
I cannot loose myself
from that word.
For there are stoopings more terrible than thunder.
There are bendings low
that break the spine of pride
more surely than the sword breaks bone.
And one by one—
sandaled, ashamed, confused—
they drew near Him.
The feet of fishermen,
the feet of zealots,
the feet that had wandered,
the feet still crusted with the stale earth
of empire and fatigue.
And He washed them.
Not as a servant washes, perhaps—
hurriedly, dutifully, with half-averted eye—
but with that unbearable tenderness
which makes the beloved wish to flee.
For who can bear
to be known at the heel,
at the dustiest place,
at the place where the road clings?
Peter recoiled, of course—
dear violent Peter—
as men recoil from love
when it approaches too nearly
the wound.
“No—”
Ah, but all our souls are fashioned of that syllable.
No, not there.
No, not this filth.
No, not the part of me
that has walked where I ought not.
Yet still the water spoke
in its soft and ruinous language.
If I wash thee not—
And then the air itself seemed to splinter,
for one may resist majesty,
but to be excluded from such sorrowful intimacy—
that is a horror no disciple can endure.
So the feet were given.
So the heart, for a moment, trembled open.
And somewhere in the room
sat the other one.
He too had feet.
He too received bread.
He too was near enough
to hear the pulse in the Master’s throat,
to see the shadows gather
beneath His eyes
like birds before a storm.
How dreadful,
that one may sit so near the Holy
and yet prefer the kiss of silver.
Thirty pieces—
thin moons of metal,
cold as the underside of a grave-stone,
small little hosts of another kingdom.
I think they rang already
in the secret chambers of his mind.
The bread was broken.
No—more than broken.
Offered.
Which is the crueler word.
Take, eat—
And all the centuries leaned inward.
The cup passed.
Darkness trembled in it
like an omen,
like a red remembering,
like the heart’s own interior
made visible.
Drink ye all—
All.
Even now the word accuses me.
For the table was long,
and the shadows longer,
and love, longest of all,
stretching even toward betrayal,
even toward denial,
even toward scattering.
Outside, the city breathed
with the heavy lungs of feast and politics.
Inside, eternity had knelt upon the floor
and wrapped itself in linen.
What church can bear this memory?
What soul can keep it
without cracking?
The clink of cup.
The rustle of garment.
A hand withdrawing too quickly.
A glance no one could quite endure.
And beneath all things,
like a distant drumbeat under the earth:
going,
going,
going.
To the garden.
To the dark.
To the lanterns and the cudgels.
To the mouths of false witnesses.
To the rooster’s cry.
To the nails.
To the forsakenness immense and measureless.
Yet here—
here first—
before the torches,
before the thorns,
before the torn veil and the opened side—
here was the kingdom:
A basin.
A towel.
Bread in broken hands.
A cup not refused.
Love stooping lower
than any disciple could imagine,
lower perhaps than hell itself,
that it might fill even the lowest place
with the rumor of God.
And I, remembering it,
can scarcely speak except in shards.
A splash of water.
A morsel of bread.
A traitor’s mouth.
A beloved breast leaning near.
The night at the window, listening.
The floorboards aching under the tread of doom.
And Christ—
dear Christ—
moving among them still
with the calm of One
who has already entered death
and found it, too,
washable.
Then out they went.
Into olives.
Into moon-pallor.
Into that hour which still has not ended.
And the towel lay folded.
And the basin held
the last disturbed water.
And somewhere, perhaps,
one drop remained upon the floor—
bright, unnoticed,
like a tear
or like the first small glimmer
of the strange and terrible mercy
by which the world
shall yet be undone.