HE IS RISEN!
He is risen indeed.
These are the beautiful, true words I’ve led congregations to affirm for over forty years. They are words that contain the story of my life of change. I would not be who I am without the truth that Jesus resurrected. These words are a holy liturgy.
But the liturgy of Holy Week sometimes grows opaque, difficult to discern Jesus and the people he encountered during the days leading to the cross. Time and repetition have worn down the edges like a gritty wind scraping across exposed hieroglyphs. Maybe we could name it Holy Week and Easter liturgy fatigue.
Even harder is it to discern who we are to be and become in these cosmos-altering events.
Would I have laid my coat and a palm branch before Jesus? Do I praise him today for his presence in my life?
Would I have let him wash my feet? I have a deformed left foot and am guarded about who may touch it. Plus, I’m supposed to serve him.
Would I and do I betray him?
Like John, do I run in naked fear from those opposed to Jesus? W.W.Y.D? (What Would You Do?)
Thus, over time, we’ve staged Holy Week reenactments, hoping to bring those ancient events to life. Kids wave branches on Palm Sunday. We bare their soles for Maunday Thursday foot washing ceremonies. Good Friday, we nail our sins to a cross and hope no one but Jesus reads them. Protestants have no liturgy for Holy Saturday. But that blank space may best mirror the confusion and despair the friends of Jesus experienced after the crucifixion. Not knowing what to do, they went back to daily life. So, we too rearrange the garage, do the laundry, clean house, write letters, and pay bills. Wondering all along what all these holy events call us to.
Even liturgy fatigue reminds me of my desire and need to (re) encounter Christ. Holy Week heightens that dire truth. For me, the reliving of the Passover meal, the Last Supper, has cracked the time-glazed glass obscuring Jesus in Holy Week liturgies. This may be because waving palms, washing feet, and nailing sins feels symbolic. While eating with others gathered around a table of faith is real, true. It’s founded in daily practice. It sates a real as well as spiritual hunger. I don’t have to pretend I’m standing by a dusty road watching Jesus ride a donkey, nor shudder at the horror of imagining the crucifixion.
A Maunday Thursday meal places me in the story in a way that I live. I’m usually hungry.
Maybe that’s what recarves the events of Holy Week into our stony hearts: stories. Not just The Story, but our stories of doubt, joy, confusion, betrayal, transformation, and even liturgy fatigue. Our stories and how they intersect with The Story. It’s one thing to reenact an encounter with Christ from two thousand years ago. It’s another to remember and relive your own encounter from yesterday or this morning. What is your story of encountering Christ? This Easter, along with your usual liturgies of Sunday worship, Easter eggs and baskets, and an afternoon meal, the new liturgy you need to write and practice is about your encounter with Christ.
Then tell it to others.
Two more readings for your Easter edification.
How the Blood Red Thread of Easter Hope Can Change You
I can only hope I don’t become numb, blase, or indifferent to this transformative and redemptive moment. He has risen indeed!
Well said, Bruce. It’s like the bass line of our lives. And sometimes we grow too accustomed to it. I hope and pray we don’t as well.
Gene well said. Blessings and Peace to you and your bride.
Thank you, my friend. To you and yours as well.
I am currently “taking it easy”, more or less at home and in very comfortable isolation,… I knew in advance, that I would be needing a “rest and recovery” period from what was going to be a very intense involvement with multiple Holy Week programs and scenarios, including lots of music and important rehearsals,… at my age, I’m a little surprised that I was able to keep up, but I/we managed,… there was “something special” about the choir’s commitment this year ~ many new people enthusiastically mixing with old,… I’m so happy to have been a part of it all,… the standard programs provided a meaningful backdrop, that was definitely “brought to life” by the enthusiasm and love of the participants,… it was definitely “special”, and I feel grateful,… the quiet rest and contemplation is good, also,…
Yes, Holy Week can be beautifully grueling. The camaraderie of working together and seeing Christ in those relationships is special. I miss that. And I’m glad for your wisdom and ability to rest.