Taking Holy Week Seriously

Following the horror of Good Friday comes the bewilderment of the Sabbath, for once not a day of rest but of restlessness.

There is a tradition in African American communities called tarrying. It is when friends, family, and church family gather around the body of someone who is sick and sometimes near death—and the community begins to sing and sometimes pray with the hopes that the one who is infirm might be restored or received with open arms by a loving and redeeming God. Can you imagine Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome watching from afar as Jesus died on the cross and not really knowing what to do, not knowing if they could cry out, not knowing what song to sing to bring him comfort at his most painful hour?

Tarrying is not simply about bringing comfort to the one who is sick or dying; it is a willingness to enter into the pain of the community. These women dealt with their grief together. They probably wiped each other’s tears and held each other’s hands. They knew they could not change the fact that their Lord had died but, they could commit to not suffering alone. You see, many of us are suffering in silence because we are too afraid to be vulnerable, too afraid to let our images slip. But maybe in the sharing of our pain, we might find others who are grieving too, others who are singing our songs, and praying our prayers. And maybe as we find our collective voice of pain, we can discover our collective hope of resurrection. 

For reflection

• In the Zulu society the word Sawubona is used as a  greeting that means “I see you.” How do we  see, acknowledge, and respond to the grief we see in our world today? 

Prayer

God in Heaven, tarry with us as we sing songs of lament, cry tears of grief and pain, and pray with expectation that weeping may endure for a night, but joy does come in the morning. Remind us, O God that Sunday is coming. Amen. 

Taking Holy Week Seriously

Today I bring to you the words of Fred Buechner regarding Good Friday, taken from his book, “Borrowed Words” 

“According to John, the last words Jesus spoke from the cross were, "It is finished." Whether he meant "finished" as brought to an end, in the sense of finality, or "finished" as brought to completion, in the sense of fulfilment, nobody knows. Maybe he meant both.

What was brought to an end was of course nothing less than his life. The Gospels make no bones about that. He died as dead as any one. All the days of his life led him to this day, and beyond this day there would be no other days, and he knew it. It was finished now, he said. He was finished. He had come to the last of all his moments, and because he was conscious still alive to his death maybe, as they say the dying do, he caught one final glimpse of the life he had all but finished living.

Who knows what he glimpsed as that life passed before him. Maybe here and there a fragment preserved for no good reason like old snapshots in a desk drawer: the play of sunlight on a wall, a half-remembered face, something somebody said. A growing sense perhaps of destiny: the holy man in the river, a gift for prayer, a gift for moving simple hearts. One hopes he remembered good times, although the Gospels record few how he once fell asleep in a boat as a storm was coming up, and how he went to a wedding where water was the least of what was turned into wine. Then the failures of the last days, when only a handful gathered to watch him enter the city on the foal of an ass and those very likely for the wrong reasons. The terror that he himself had known for a few moments in the garden, and that finally drove even the handful away. Shalom then, the God in him moving his swollen lips to forgive them all, to forgive maybe even God. Finished.

What was brought to completion by such a life and such a death only he can know now, wherever he is, if he is anywhere. The Christ of it is beyond our imagining. All we can know is the flesh and blood of it, the Jesus of it. In that sense, what was completed was at the very least a hope to live by, a mystery to hide our faces before, a shame to haunt us, a dream of holiness to help make bearable our night.”

Dear God,

We remember today, the pain and suffering of the cross, and all that Jesus was willing to endure, so we could be set free. He paid the price, such a great sacrifice, to offer us the gift of eternal life.

Help us never to take for granted this huge gift of love on our behalf. Help us to be reminded of the cost of it all. Forgive us for being too busy, or distracted by other things, for not fully recognising what you freely given, what you have done for us.

Thank you Lord that by your wounds we are healed. Thank you that because of your huge sacrifice we can live free. Thank you that sin and death have been conquered, and that your Power is everlasting.

Thank you that we can say with great hope, “It is finished…” For we know what’s still to come. And death has lost its sting. We praise you for you are making all things new.

In Jesus’ Name,

Taking Holy Week Seriously

How do you understand the institution of the Lord’s Supper on that Thursday of Holy Week? 

Evelyn Underhill (1875-1911) an English Anglo-Catholic writer and pacifist known for her numerous works on religion and spiritual practice, in particular Christian mysticism, wrote concerning Holy Communion.

The Eucharist is the very heart of Christian worship because it is so rich and far-reaching in its significance; because it eludes thought, eludes emotion, relies on simple contact, humble and childlike receptiveness, sense quenching soul. It mixes together the extremes of mystery and homeliness; takes our common earthly experience of suffering, love abandonment, death, and makes them inexpressibly holy and fruitful; takes the food of our natural life and transforms that into a channel of Divine Life.

One definition of the word communion is the sharing or exchanging of intimate thoughts and feelings, especially on a mental or spiritual level.

What is our response to this ‘Holy’ communion with Jesus.

For me, Albert Orsborn’s (1886-1967) hymn encapsulates the response I need to enact in response to the  promise of God found in the simple yet profound gift of bread and wine.

My life must be Christ’s broken bread,
My love his outpoured wine,
A cup o’erfilled, a table spread
Beneath his name and sign.
That other souls, refreshed and fed,
May share his life through mine.

My all is in the Master’s hands
For him to bless and break;
Beyond the brook his winepress stands
And thence my way I take,
Resolved the whole of love’s demands
To give, for his dear sake.

Lord, let me share that grace of thine
Wherewith thou didst sustain
The burden of the fruitful vine,
The gift of buried grain.
Who dies with thee, O Word divine,
Shall rise and live again.

Taking Holy Week Seriously

The Wednesday of Holy Week is remembered for the moment when Jesus was famously anointed with expensive perfume. This unusual scene took place in Bethany, just outside Jerusalem, at a dinner party being hosted by Mary (who did the pouring), and Martha (her sister). It was hailed by Jesus as such an incredible expression of devotion that wherever the gospel would subsequently go, the story of Mary and her perfume would follow.

Yet we begin to sense the tension building in the Holy Week narrative. “But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples—the one who would betray him—said,  “That perfume was worth a fortune. It should have been sold and the money given to the poor.”  Not that he cared for the poor, but he was in charge of the disciples’ funds and often dipped into them for his own use!

Jesus replied, “Let her alone. She did it in preparation for my burial. You can always help the poor, but I won’t be with you very long.” John 12

Where Judas sees waste, Jesus sees love.

Mary’s love anticipates the love of Jesus. She pours her tears on the feet of the one who will pour himself out on the world.

Mary is praying with her body and with her heart. It is a way we seldom pray. Her prayer is part of a tradition as old as the passionate, lyrical and sensuous Song of Solomon. Yet there is nothing to stop us praying this way – a gentle touch of understanding, a hug of reassurance, a smile of love – these, too, are prayers.

As we view this dinner party, we are struck by the surpassing generosity of Mary’s gesture, and then by the bitter grudge with which Judas interpreted the gift.

Lord, when I find myself critical of others, it may be my own warped vision that needs to be corrected.

Taking Holy Week Seriously

What a week it had been so far! Jesus knew what was ahead of Him but instead of quiet solitude, every morning he would travel into Jerusalem, spend time teaching the Kingdom of God in the temple courts and then head back every evening to Bethany. His message, as his impending death drew near seemed to be so much about being ready for his second coming with teaching about the signs that we could expect at that time, and stories and parables about Vineyards and Tenants, Talents and Virgins. While all this is going, on the chief priests and elders are plotting against Jesus, and Judas, one of his disciples, whose greatest strength was money and finances, discovered that it was also his greatest weakness as he sold out the Lord for 30 pieces of silver!

Each day Jesus would have come in and gone out through the city gates where many of the poor and marginalised would have been looking for generosity and support. In Matthew 25:34-40, Jesus is talking about the fact that when the Son of Man comes, he will show favour to those who didn’t just think of themselves but reached out to the poor.

Well might we ask during this Holy Week, “Lord, when did we see you hungry and give you food? When did we see you thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you with no place to stay and welcome you into our home? When did we see you without clothes and give you something to wear? When did we see you sick or in prison and care for you?’

“Then the king will answer, ‘The truth is, anything you did for any of my people here,[a] you also did for me.’ Matthew 25:37-40

Open my eyes that they may see the deepest needs of people;

Move my hands that they may feed the hungry;

Touch my heart that it may bring warmth to the despairing;

Teach me the generosity that welcomes strangers;

Let me share my possessions to clothe the naked;

Give me the care that strengthens the sick;

Make me share in the quest to set the prisoner free.

In sharing our anxieties and our love,

our poverty and our prosperity,

we partake of your divine presence. Amen

Taking Holy Week Seriously

Mark 11:15-18 “Then they came to Jerusalem. And Jesus entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling and those who were buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who sold doves; and he would not allow anyone to carry anything through the temple. He was teaching and saying, "Is it not written, 'My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations'? But you have made it a den of robbers." And when the chief priests and the scribes heard it, they kept looking for a way to kill him; for they were afraid of him, because the whole crowd was spellbound by his teaching.”

As I ponder this episode in Christ’s road to Calvary, the Cross and Crucifixion I perceive that  there were times, Lord, when you made people nervous. When you overturned the tables of the moneychangers, and sent coins rolling all over the Temple floor, the chief priests and the scribes grew fearful and angry. You had hit on the destructive link between religion and money, and you targeted it with passion and power.

As in my minds eye I picture the temple scene, I consider the buildings that I visit, the spaces that I occupy, thinking of how each is used for its particular purpose. I think of how I arrange my time and imagine my prayer a temple in the heart of the city, a place of beauty in the midst of fine buildings, an encounter with God in the busyness of life.

From the gospels I detect that Jesus resisted everything that came between God and people. I pray that I may really hear his message and be drawn into the very life of God, that I too may be spellbound by his teaching.

It is easy for my time of prayer to become a time of reflection, pondering, figuring things out. My prayer time can become like the Temple; seeming to be given to God but in fact committed to other activities, preoccupied with the affairs of the day. I ask God to help me to bring these concerns for blessing but not to seek to control them now.

The heart is the place for love and relationship. I ask God’s help not to allow it to become a den for the worry, doubt, distrust or other robbers of peace.

Truth be told, Jesus,

There are lots of tables that need overturning

   in our lives;

Beneath the veneer of respectability

   the tidy rows and neat regulations

      hide dark addictions and angry judgements

         hungry greeds and heartless rejections

We know the pain—and so do those around us—

   of keeping up the facade;

What a relief it would be to have it all

   upset, smashed, scattered, destroyed

So, perhaps, Jesus, today you could pay us a visit

   and help us to radically rearrange

      the furniture of our lives

Journey through Lent

The third lesson is that spirituality is satisfying. 

Isaiah 58:11 says, “The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places.” Even amid fasting, says the prophet, God will provide satisfaction. The season of Lent is not all bleak. Although it’s 40 days long, starting on Ash Wednesday with a recognition of our mortality and ending on Easter Sunday with a celebration of Christ’s resurrection, there are actually 46 total days in that span. The reason for the discrepancy is Sundays. Sundays do not count in the 40 days of Lent. 

Sunday is always a feast day, even amid the season of fasting, because Sunday is the day Jesus arose from the dead. This is why Lenten fasts are properly broken on Sundays. Sundays during Lent are very important to Christians around the world. Where the Monday to Saturday of each of the six weeks are concerned with fasting and abstinence, the Sunday is a symbolic celebration of the reality of Christ's resurrection.That experience showed us that spirituality involves satisfaction as well as repentance and self-denial.

For lots of people, when they think of depth-they think of a tree with deep roots. The thinking is that if a tree wants to be big and strong, then it has to grow its roots deep into the soil to support its weight. I did some research on tree roots, and it's actually quite different---tree roots tend to grow shallow and WIDE. Some do, in fact grow deep "tap roots," but they rely on their surface roots for oxygen, moisture, and their nutrients. Most trees, though, spread their roots really wide, some as far as 10 times beyond the distance from the trunk to the top. So, when you think of a tree, maybe the thinking should be width, and not depth.

There is something in nature, though, that has some serious depth. When ships are out at sea, many of the naval officers see icebergs floating in the water moving against the current, even when high winds are blowing in the other direction. The reason is that only 10 percent of an icebergs mass is above water. The iceberg's depth is 90 percent below water. Perhaps there is a spiritual lesson here too.

Well might we ask

How deep the Father’s love for us,
How vast beyond all measure,
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure.
How great the pain of searing loss –
The Father turns His face away,
As wounds which mar the Chosen One
Bring many sons to glory.

Behold the man upon a cross,
My sin upon His shoulders;
Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice
Call out among the scoffers.
It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished;
His dying breath has brought me life –
I know that it is finished.

Well might we ask, how deep is my devotion.