Meditations on Holy Week
by Liturgists of Christ Church
Passion Sunday
Isaiah 45:21-25
Psalm 22
Matthew 27:1-54
Jesus, as God and as human, understood that the
pain of the passion was tied to the joy and salvation of Easter.
Passion Sunday is
one of the times when we come face to face with a great mystery of our
faith: that Jesus was fully God and also fully human. In the
passion gospel, we see Jesus fulfilling his divine purpose in a
once-and-for-all absolution of the sins of humanity. At the same
time, in his suffering and death, we see him at his most human. It
is hard to grasp, or even imagine, what Jesus as God understood or felt
about his divinity or about his relationship with God the Father (or God
the Creator, if you will). It is almost as hard to fathom his
human suffering during this time. In this year’s Passion Sunday
service, the congregation will read Jesus’ part, instead of the more
traditional, crowd role, to allow each of us to consider Jesus’ point of
view. But even that falls short. Matthew’s account describes
the events in a matter of fact way, with Jesus the calm center of the
riotous events of that day. Jesus speaks very little and, when he
does, his words are calm and wise.
If we read the
story without using a little imagination, we don’t even have to dwell on
how alone Jesus felt, with all his friends and followers abandoning him.
How threatened he was by the trials and high officials, mocking
soldiers, and screaming mobs. Or, how excruciating he found the
beatings, the nails, the spear, and hanging on the cross for hours.
The only real hint we get that Jesus was going through a terrible human
ordeal that desolated his body and spirit is his recitation of a portion
of Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.”
Psalm 22 is one of
the most desperate of psalms: “I am a worm and no man. ...I am poured
out like water; all my bones are out of joint; my heart within my breast
is melting wax. ...Packs of dogs close me in and gangs of evildoers
circle around me; they pierce my hands and my feet; I can count all my
bones.” At the same time, it expresses remarkable faith in the
saving power of God: “Yet you are he who took me out of the womb and
kept me safe upon my mother’s breast. ...Be not far away, O Lord; you
are my strength; hasten to help me. ...I will declare your Name to my
brethren; in the midst of the congregation I will praise you.”
Perhaps this psalm, and the fact that Jesus chose
to say it on the cross, gives us a glimpse of both the desperate pain
and grief Jesus experienced and his understanding of God’s saving grace.
Perhaps it shows that Jesus, as God and as human, understood that the
pain of the passion was tied to the joy and salvation of Easter.
O God, who went through such agony for our sake,
make us ever conscious that in the worst and most painful times, you and
your saving grace are still with us. In the times of passion
remind us that you have been through such a time as well and keep us
aware that Easter is coming. Amen.
Written by Randy
Norton
Monday in Holy Week
Isaiah 42:1-9
Psalm 36:5-10
John 12:1-11
Extravagant companionship
Things may be
looking up. More people now believe in Jesus because they’ve seen
him raise Lazarus from the dead. Jesus has come out from hiding
and is on his way back to Jerusalem. At last, there’s a chance for
a nice supper, with Martha waiting on the table. But not so fast.
One of the inner circle embezzles. Why does Jesus let Judas hang
around if this is true? Yet, even though we are told that Judas is
a thief (and soon to be a traitor), he seems to have a point. It
is odd for Mary to waste 300 denarii worth of nard when people are
starving and odder still for Jesus to indulge in such a luxury.
The scene is confusing—Jesus seems impatient with Judas—and sad.
We learn that Lazarus, just raised from the dead, is a wanted man.
It is the beginning
of the end, isn’t it? Things are falling apart and no one gets it.
Jesus has to tell them once again, I won’t be here much longer.
But Mary has heard him. She does the most extravagant thing she
can to comfort him, to prepare him. Whether she fully understands
the enormity of the gift he is soon to give, or she simply knows it is
the time to give her best, it does not matter. At the beginning of
the end, God has provided Jesus with a caring companion.
Lord, when faced with exceptional evil, help us
find extravagant good. In times of confusion, allow us to provide
comfort to others. In times of uncertainty, let us feel the
presence of your abiding love. Amen.
Written by
Farleigh Earhart
Tuesday in Holy Week
Isaiah 49:1-6
Psalm 71:1-12
1 Corinthians 1:18-31
John 12:37-38, 42-50
The foolishness of God is wiser than
human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength.1
Corinthians 1:25
Many of the things
we know about God seem to be paradoxes. God is nowhere to be seen
and everywhere to be found. God is a stern judge and a loving and
forgiving parent. God is three persons and yet one God. It
may be that from the limits of human perspective, every statement we can
make about God has a paradoxical quality. Contemplating divine
paradox may be the best way to know God better.
The events we remember during Holy Week
make us confront divine paradox directly. Immortal God is somehow
mortal. Eternal God has somehow been put to death. God has
died and is somehow alive. This is the foolishness about which
Paul speaks—the strange notion that God would consent to be put to death
on the cross as a common criminal and that, somehow, God lives and death
is slain and humankind is restored to divine relationship with God.
It does not, as Paul points out, make any sense. But God does not
seem to be interested in making sense. God is acting out of love,
that most divine and holy foolishness, and what God desires from us is,
not understanding, but love in return.
See what paradoxes that divine love
brings this week. The joyful procession with waving palm branches
that only Jesus knows is a death march. The last supper with
friends that is a first supper with God. The master of all who is
servant of all. The kiss of friendship that is an act of betrayal.
The shameful defeat that is a glorious triumph. Jesus’ blood does
not stain, but cleanses all that it touches.
Contemplating divine paradox can be
daunting. We want to solve the mystery—to grasp the ungraspable.
Relax. Hold the mystery close without trying to unravel it.
The mind may buzz, vibrating between the obvious and the impossible, but
in the in-between place—the space that allows the vibration—you just may
see a glimpse of God.
Loving God, your
foolishness is our wisdom; your weakness is our strength. Bless us
with the glorious impossibility of your love, so that we may trust in
not in our own wisdom and strength, but in your guidance and protection,
through Jesus who lived and died for us. Amen.
Written by Bill Doggett
Wednesday of Holy Week
Isaiah 50:4-9a
Psalm 69:7-15, 22-23
John 13:21
One of you will
betray me… Do quickly what you are going to do.
How hard it must
have been to be one of the disciples at this point. Each was
wondering if he were the betrayer. With a vague feeling of
foreboding nipping at their guts, they all knew something bad was going
to happen.
What would it have
been like to walk in the shoes of Judas? All the disciples had to
be scared. Political tensions had escalated to a point that there
was no turning back. They had spent a good chunk of time following
the man Jesus and working with him. They believed that he was the
way to the kingdom of God. But now, all their work was unraveling
faster than they could understand. And Jesus was suddenly saying
that one of them would betray him. Doubt crept into their minds.
There sat Judas.
Like the rest of the disciples, he was scared. Perhaps he had been
wrong to invest so much of his life in the itinerant Rabbi, Jesus.
Perhaps he had better be on the safe side and tell the religious
authorities where to find Jesus. After all, his own life could
well be threatened, what with everything that was happening. As
these thoughts raced through his head, Judas heard Jesus say, “Do
quickly what you are going to do.” The die was cast.
We must remember
that Judas was not the only one to betray Jesus. Peter did so
later. We must also keep in mind, as difficult as it is, that
Judas was not all that different from the rest of the disciples.
They all had fears; they all must have wondered whether or not they had
chosen the right path by following Jesus. They all had to draw on
whatever inner courage they could muster to face the days ahead of them.
As we know from our own lives, sometimes that courage just isn’t there;
sometimes we aren’t ready to take the stand we know we should; and
sometimes we just think that the other way is surely wiser and safer.
Ultimately, Judas was the rule rather than the exception. While
his betrayal was certainly very dramatic, one by one the other disciples
also deserted Jesus as they gave into their fear and fled.
Oh God, who
walked among us as Jesus the Christ, grant us courage to choose the path
you would have us walk. Grant us confidence in ourselves and in
our companions on the way to doing the work you would have us do.
And grant us the peace of knowing that no matter how difficult the path,
we are not alone and that you are with us every step of the way.
Amen.
Written by Anne
Bathurst Gilson
Maundy Thursday
Exodus 12: 1-14a
Psalm 78:14-20 & 23-25
John 13:1-5
One of the last acts of one whose life has been an act of
love—serving others
It is the night
before Jesus is to die on the cross. The scriptures tell us that
Jesus is aware of what is coming. Judas will betray him. It
is time for the disciples to be prepared for what is to come.
Jesus has talked of last days and of loving and caring for one another.
Now, he sets aside his robe, and with a basin in his hands and a towel
wrapped around his waist, he stoops to wash the feet of those with whom
he has lived and whom he has loved. It is one of the last acts of
one whose life has been an act of love.
Washing feet is a
job for a servant, not a job for a dinner host. Peter is
affronted! He objects, but the message is clear. Those who
want to lead must serve. One must be humble, willing to do the
humblest job for another. Perhaps in all of Jesus’ teaching, this
act sums up for us the greatest message—that the greatest actions in our
daily lives may be the moments when we serve others. These moments
can be times when we set aside our pride, anger, or greed and give to
another the gift of self. If we can so focus on another’s need, we
will be serving as Christ did.
Oh loving God, as we wait on this day before
Christ’s passion, fill our hearts with love for others, so that we can
truly give as you would have us do. Help us remember that as
Christ served, we too, should serve others. In Christ’s name we
pray. Amen.
Written by Nanese Hawthorne
Good Friday
Isaiah 452:13-53:12
Psalm 22
John 19:1-37
In the end, the
darkness of the crucifixion is really light—the light of Christ that the
darkness will never overcome—the Word that is and was and will be
forever.
Recently at the
National Gallery, I studied Rembrandt’s etching of Christ Crucified
between the Two Thieves (The Three Crosses, 1653).
Jesus is hanging on the central cross, flanked by two bandits.
Foremost in the etching, I see the incredible light coming down from
heaven and lighting up the dark scene of the crucifixion. All the
hymns about light now fill my mind with light as I remember how often I
forget that light of Christ in my own life. On that darkest
Friday, as I carry the large wooden cross into the church and we focus
on the darkness, I will see this image of the three crosses with the
great light, and I will sing, perhaps to myself, words of those hymns of
the cross.
“Near the cross, a
trembling soul, love and mercy found me; there the bright and morning
star sheds its beams around me. In the cross, in the cross, be my
glory ever, till my raptured soul shall find rest beyond the river.”
I remember, too, another hymn this Good Friday: “In the cross of
Christ I glory, towering o’er the wrecks of time; all the light of
sacred story gathers round its head sublime. When the woes of life
o’ertake me, hopes deceive, and fears annoy, never shall the cross
forsake me. Lo! It glows with peace and joy.”
In the end, the darkness of this scene is really light—the light of
Christ that the darkness will never overcome—the Word that is and was
and will be forever.
God, the Giver
of the Light, God who is the Light, God, the Keeper of the Light, shine
down on me, a bandit on a cross that is bathed by the light of your
incredible Sun [Son]. O God of Light, shine down on me, the
centurion who taunted you and bless me and forgive my unbelief.
Give me the light of your liberating and redeeming love forever.
And now, O Christ, I bathe in the light of your dying love and believe
you are God’s Son. I look into your eyes, O Jesus, as you hang
upon that tree. All else has faded away in the light that streams
down from heaven. You and the bandit are bathed in that light, and
I see now you are truly God’s Son. Help me always to look to you,
the Light of my own life. Help me always to turn my eyes on you
and your never-dimming light. “Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look
full in his wonderful face and the things of earth will grow strangely
dim in the light of his glory and grace.”
Amen.
Written by Judith Davis
Holy Saturday
Job 14:1-14
Psalm 130
Matthew 27:57-66
I wait for the Lord, my soul waits.
Job’s and Matthew’s
stories both express the belief that death was the end. Job said,
“...Mortals die and are laid low ... mortals lie down and do not rise
again.” Matthew described how Joseph of Arimathea buried Jesus
decently, used a stone to seal the tomb, and went away. The
priests and Pilate set a guard over the tomb because they knew that the
only way Jesus could rise from the dead was through trickery.
We know, of course, that the story did not end
with Jesus’ death on Calvary. But that is tomorrow’s story.
Today is a time to mourn with those who mourned Jesus. It is a
time to remember their despair and fear. It is also a time to
remember our own moments of despair and fear. Most of us, at some
time, have come to a place where life seems to be in shambles, and all
we worked and hoped for apparently lies in ruins. Remembering
those times, we can also feel the pain of the disciples who followed
Jesus and who believed him to be the Messiah—the fulfillment of their
dreams of a better life of justice and peace. Most of the
disciples—men and women—tasted despair at Jesus’ death. Many of
them probably also felt like fools who had hitched their wagon—not to a
star—but to “flash in the pan” comet. Everything they hoped for
and dreamed of seemed to lie in ruins. The tomb that concealed
Jesus’ body also seemed to shut them out, forever, from the glorious
future they had foreseen.
Yet, even in this
darkest moment, they might say, with the Psalmist, “I wait for the Lord,
my soul waits.” Even in our darkest moments, we know that God is
still with us. We can turn to God with our pain, our sorrow, our
disappointment, our shame, and God loves us still. Matthew says
that Mary Magdalene and the other Mary waited at the tomb. We
don’t know what they were waiting for. Perhaps they hoped it
wasn’t the end. After all, Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead.
Or, perhaps they were simply waiting with immense, heartbreaking
patience until after the Sabbath when they could anoint Jesus’ dead body
with oils. But they waited, and we wait.
The Psalmist said,
“Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord ... I wait for the Lord, my soul
waits. ...For with the Lord, there is steadfast love ... and great power
to redeem.” This is a day to be still, to pray, and to wait for
the Lord.
God of hope, we
know you are with us always. God of mercy, you know our pain and
our longing. You also know our hope. Give us the courage to
wait for you in times of darkness and despair, and fill us with your
Holy Spirit, so that we may love one another as you love us; through
Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen
Written by Sue
Alford
