On that sacred evening of Holy Thursday, Jesus rose from supper, took off His outer garments, wrapped a towel around His waist, and knelt before His disciples to wash their feet. It was the posture of a servant—yet it was the Lord of all who knelt.
This scene is etched not only in the memory of the Church but also in the very foundation of our congregation. It was on Holy Thursday that we, Pious Disciples of the Divine Master, received our Diocesan Approval—a congregation born in the mystery of the Eucharist and called to belong entirely to Jesus, the Divine Master, present in the Eucharistic mystery. It is no coincidence. For to be Eucharistic is to be broken, blessed, and given; it is to kneel, to wash, to serve.
Today, in our celebration of the Lord’s Supper, I stood among the apostles.
It was a sacred moment that humbled me to the core. When Fr. AJ, with such reverence and tenderness, not only washed my feet but gently kissed them, I was overwhelmed. That simple yet profound gesture pierced my heart in a way words could hardly express.
In that intimate act, I felt a deep cleansing—not just of the dust of the day, but of my doubts, my hesitations, even my hidden fears. I was moved to tears. It was as though the Lord Himself was whispering to me: “You are not only called to serve—you are loved in your serving.”
And the more I pondered this, the more I was convinced of the sacredness of our vocation—to be at the service of the priesthood, to accompany them, support them, and offer our lives in quiet, faithful ministry. Not above them, not behind them, but alongside them, with the heart of the Church.
As a servant leader, I am reminded again and again that we are not asked to seek recognition. We are asked to bend low, to kneel, to wash, to bless—just as He did. To carry not a crown, but a basin and a towel.
Like Peter, I often feel unworthy. And yet, Jesus invites me still—to remain, to serve, and to be a sign of hope. To my Sisters, to our Province, to the Church.
This question—Can I truly be a sign of hope?—echoes quietly within me. And now, it becomes my prayer.
That in my own way of loving, serving, and giving—however small—I may inspire, strengthen, and lead with the same humility Christ has shown. It is in the simple, unseen acts of service… the quiet yes… the daily offering and sacrifices. In the little ways I give of myself to the Province, to the Congregation, to each Sister I accompany—there, hope is born.
Hope is not always loud or triumphant. Sometimes it is the gentle hand on a weary shoulder, the listening heart, the courage to continue when things are difficult. To be a sign of hope is to be a reminder that Jesus is still kneeling before His people, still washing their feet through us.
In my own littleness, I desire to be that sign. I desire that my leadership, rooted in the Eucharist, may be a life poured out in love. That every plan, every meeting, every decision, and every silent sacrifice may carry the message of Christ’s humble act of service.
Christ’s humble act of service continues today—through our hands, through our hearts, and through every small “yes” whispered in faith.
And so, I pray—
Jesus, Divine Master,
You knelt before Your disciples and washed their feet. Teach me to kneel. Teach me to serve. In the hiddenness of daily life, may I be a vessel of Your hope. In my humanity, may Your grace shine through. Let me be a leader who loves, a disciple who serves, and a Pious Disciple who gives herself entirely—Eucharistically, joyfully, and humbly.
Amen.
Sistermags 