Throwback (HOLY) Thursday updated
Lenten Reflections #38
I often find myself rattling off the same rule reminders to my students. Some are basic “say please and thank you,” while others are more distinctive: “Shirt on please, your arms need to be inside your sleeves… no spinning on the floor…stop sucking on your shirt…walk in the hallway…” Today, I even had a kindergarten girl come into class and ask if I would please remind Michael not to use bathroom words because “earlier he kept saying P-O-O”, she spelled it out.
Other than the potty talk, most of the kid offenses were about personal space, which, when you are under eight years old, the truth is, whoever is next to you, really wants you to sit super close to them…they just don’t know it.
So tonight, I focused on the famous “Last Supper” painting I acquired from my grandmother’s home after she passed. I remember walking through her double-wide trailer, seeing those apostles all lined up and thinking, if this meant something to her, it means the world to me. I grabbed the apostle crew and a small hand mirror that flipped back and forth, revealing facial blemishes and all your pluckable eyebrow hair.
In Leonardo’s Last Supper, the first thing I noticed was the lack of personal space between the apostles. I wondered why, out of the twelve guys having dinner, none of them considered sitting on the other side of the table to get a better view of the whole water-and-wine miracle.
Of course, we know this masterpiece depicts the moments after Christ let his chummy crew KNOW-HE-KNEW that one of his disciples would betray him before sunrise. When you look closely, that darn Judas looked nervous, yet not an ounce of humility lingered in his soul.
I thought…maybe Judas was weak…or felt he didn’t belong…or didn’t have a space.
Do you ever question your space in the world?
I do. In fact, sometimes Judas and that nasty Satan sneak into my brain, and I focus way too much on my jiggly inner thighs and not enough on the homeless. Or care too much about my future and not enough about a refugee’s tomorrow.
What I learned (2026):
Be humble.
“Wash the feet” of others – bring them water, listen to their needs, and bolster them up in their despair.
Shush hubris.
Stop it in its tracks. Shakespeare’s Macbeth was based on hubris, the complete collapse of a prideful man from a position of supremacy to humility. Pride is a fatal flaw.
It’s not about us.
Why is it so hard to ignore the mirror in front of you and look into the eyes of those around you?
“The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”
Matthew 23:11–12
Thanks for joining me.
I’m so glad you’re here,
Lucretia
runonmom.com 