Holy Week and Easter
In the last story told by the gospel of John before Jesus’ passion, a family dinner celebration bears undertones of conflict and a sense of impending doom. The supper is in honor of the resurrection of Lazarus, Mary and Martha’s brother. Jesus had raised him from death, and one whom they had lost had been found. But his life had been purchased at a cost: the leaders who already feared Jesus’ power, feared it more in the wake of this greatest sign; and intensified their efforts toward his death.
Lazarus, too, is now at risk: he has come from death to life to find his own life has become a destabilizing force among his neighbors, and those gunning for Jesus are now gunning for him as well. The threat of catastrophe and death lurks literally just outside the door; but noone wants to speak of it.
Because this is a celebration, right? Dinner is served and nothing is said. Martha bustles around with dishes overflowing; the friends laugh and eat. Judas begins a debate about the stewardship of wealth and the appropriate allocation of resources; the writer points the finger at Judas, distracting even us, his readers after two thousand years, with salacious details of betrayal and corruption. No one wants to say what everyone knows is going on: they are about to lose everything.
Liturgically, we play this out in the services of Holy Week: services that are routinely neglected by church members and visitors alike. Though calendars are published two months in advance, though description and testimony express both the importance and the beauty of the Maundy Thursday Tenebrae and the Good Friday vespers—almost no one wants to come. And I get it. A service that is fundamentally about death may in fact seem depressing. There is already a lot of suffering in the world, and in our lives, and why should we spend time on this long ago story of pain and loss? So we forget, or schedule other things, or stay home and watch Gray’s Anatomy, and keep a safe distance between ourselves and the Story that opens the door not only to Christ’s passion. . .but more frighteningly, to our own. And we go to church on Easter, because the resurrection is real gospel; it is good news. And we are an Easter people, right?
The question is, whether we can ever truly be an Easter people if we have refused to learn what it is to be people of holy week: who acknowledge the betrayals and finality of Thursday, the horror and violence of Friday, the emptiness and aching loss of Saturday. How can we feel what resurrection joy is, if we have not allowed ourselves to feel before?
Mary alone in this story shows us the way we must go. Mary, who does not speak but whose act of acknowledgement, of grief and of deep love, fills the room with fragrance. In the face of the powerful emotions of joy, fear, grief and love; she reaches deep within herself. She finds and she gives what is hers alone—in this story, a jar of expensive perfume, worth a life’s savings. Breaking it open, she pours it extravagantly on Jesus’ feet. Breaking herself open, she weeps, and washes his feet with her tears. Unbinding her hair, she breaks the bondage of silence and denial that holds all of them paralyzed, and the binding of fear, unacknowledged grief and those separations that come when we have to hold ourselves apart from those we need and love because we cannot bear the risk of letting go—all those bindings drop away, setting the family, the friends, the women, the men, the betrayer and the betrayed alike, free.
So what? Why should we do this? Why be like Mary, and not like the others? Show up and name the elephant in the room, release the pain and the potential? Give the most precious thing we own, which is our genuine, honest, transparent self? Rabbi Hillel, whose work Pirke Avot was roughly contemporaneous with the gospels, said this: If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?
We should do it because if we don’t, who will? And the story of our world these days is too similar to what we have read: a people consumed with trivialities, lost in denial of what is really important, paralyzed and impotent to step up and face with courage and honesty the difficult challenges and the painful adjustments we all must make if we are to repair our world. Our faith story –ALL of it—embodies a unique capacity to embrace the fullness of feeling and experience that constitute our lives and times. It is not just a story about resurrection, butterflies and success: it is a story of loss faced bravely, sacrifice given freely for the sake of love; lovers and enemies bringing out of silence words of truth, and deeds of generosity and transforming power. It is a good story, our faith story, but it’s richer if we tell all of it, not just the Easter-happy ending… When we break ourselves open, becoming deeply real, the fragrance of the Resurrection, at last, becomes real as well: it fills God’s
world with healing balm, as it rises in each one of us, who are Christ’s body, the Church. Christ is risen, Alleluia!
Please join us for Holy Week and Easter Services:
Palm Sunday March 28 we, too, will “turn our faces toward Jerusalem,” and prepare with Jesus to enter the city and begin our long Holy Week walk through crucifixion and death into Easter on April 4.The sanctuary will be “righted” for this journey and for Easter; that is, we will again be configured facing our Cross. Those who wish and who are able, are invited to gather in the narthex for a procession with the choir in festive song, waving palms, as we greet Jesus and welcome him into the city.
Those who prefer to be seated are of course invited to do so, and also to take a palm with you to your seat so you too may participate in the procession from your place.
Maundy Thursday, at 7:30 on April 1, will take place as the last supper did for the disciples, gathered around tables with friends, here in the sanctuary. It is the service of Shadows, or Tenebrae, in which we tell the story of Jesus’ last days: a story of communion with friends, the pain of abandonment and betrayal for the betrayed and betrayer alike; the hard story of how fear creates a mob mentality, spiraling out of control, that ends in the sacrifice of Jesus’ life. We begin the service with communion, and through quiet hymns, poetry and scripture, we listen by candlelight to the narrative of the passion of Jesus.
Good Friday service, at 7:30 on April 2, will be observed in the garden outside the church and fellowship hall, before our rough wooden cross, a vesper service of quiet prayer, simple songs, and readings. As the sun sets and the evening falls, we ponder the ending of the life of Jesus, and pray for courage to sustain us through the empty Saturday, and the faith to await a resurrection The sanctuary will be stripped following the Good Friday service, except for the labyrinth, in which we will walk ‘that lonesome valley” with Jesus.
Easter Day, April 4, 11:00 am The Day of Resurrection– bring your friends and family and celebrate Christ’s resurrection at Riviera! Worship will full of inspiring music, beautiful flowers, and rich, expressions of faith. Following the service, we will continue the celebration with a special Holy Grounds fellowship time and an Easter Egg Hunt for the children, in the church courtyard.
Peace,
Laurie