We are almost at Palm Sunday, the official start of Holy Week. It has been my practice, since I came to this small town in Southwestern Ontario, that we observe eight days of services. Palm Sunday is the “triumphal entry” of Jesus into the East Gates of the City of Jerusalem. He was perched on the colt of a donkey, in other words, a baby donkey. The image makes me smile as his feet would have to be pulled up to his chest so he wouldn’t drag them on the floor!
Holy Monday we follow the 14 stations of the Cross. This year we are using reproductions of modern art interpretations of the traditional Jerusalem stations. Each image is multi-faceted and I’m so excited to share these with the congregation.
Holy Tuesday we gather in the evening for a Tenebrae service of light and shadows which combines the psalms and the writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, my favourite theologian, and one who struggled greatly with good and evil.
Holy Wednesday we gather to put our emotional house in order. A service of Anointing and Eucharist invites us to be fully open with ourselves and our Saviour as we ask forgiveness, confident it will be given. We then gather for the greatest gift – in the Holy Eucharist.
Maundy Thursday is the first of the Triduum or Three Sacred Days of Holy Week which include Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday. These three days are one extended service which grows more powerful with each service. Maundy Thursday we gather as I wash the feet of the congregation, sharing with them how much they mean to the fabric of the church, and to me as their priest and pastor. We chant the Lamentations as the altar is stripped and then, in near darkness the empty cross is placed at the ready, and the tomb is left empty, save for the cross.
Good Friday we gather in silence, picking up a black stone as we enter, and slowly build on the images of crown of thorns, sign, nails, hyssop stock and stole of royal purple. As the service unfolds and we hear the horrific story of the crucifixion we are invited to set down the black stone…to set down those burdens which we bare, but which are too heavy for us to bear alone. We then pick up a white stone, knowing we have been forgiven, we are loved and we are never alone. In stunned silence, as we take in the gravity of the situation, we leave the worship space, which has become the tomb.
Holy Saturday we gather in the parish hall as we kindle the new fire, aware of the faint aroma of incense that has been used to cleanse the Church, inside and out, to prepare us for Easter Day. We hear the Exultet, share together three foundational stories, sing three hymns and then move upstairs, tapered candles lighting our way as we gather at the outside of the tomb. We then reaffirm our baptism vows and are sprinkled with the holy water of life.
Easter Day we arrive to learn that the tomb has been opened, the stone has been rolled away and we are astounded at the beautiful sight that surrounds us. A beautifully decorated space, a cross that is empty and draped with a white garland of flowers, and the joyous choruses of Alleluia as we discover the Christ has Risen!
And then, after all the pomp and ceremony is finished I delight in climbing into my waiting bed for a well-earned afternoon nap.
Come and journey to the cross. There will be pain and heartache on the way, but in the end, love will triumph over all.
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