“But all his acquaintances stood at a distance, watching these things.”
As we enter the drama of Holy Week, my question for all of us is simple, Where will we stand as the events unfold? My question is certainly intended to be concrete. Where will we be physically this week? But it is also a spiritual question. Obviously there are some who physically will be prevented from being at all the services, and so for them, it’s more about where they’ll be spiritually, in their hearts. This week will we risk coming up close? Or will we also “stand at a distance”. Physically? Spiritually?
When Thursday comes, will we stand at a distance? Perhaps stay home, or go to a service, but stay in the pew? Or will we be at the heart of the commemoration. Will we feel the warm water and someone else’s hands washing our feet? Will we taste the bread and wine— grainy and potent. These are reminders of what they did that night in obedience to what he said that night. Will we know in our deepest hearts that the power of that night is somehow brought forward even to us whenever we eat the bread and drink the cup. And then, wherever we are, as the altar is stripped, will we leave or stay and watch…even from a distance? Can we endure to watch as a holy space is rid it of its decoration, the cross draped in black, every sacramental trace of the body and blood of Christ is removed, and the light that reminds us of his Presence is extinguished?
Then Friday. Where will we stand? Will we be gathered and praying with a worship community at the hour he hung on the cross… Can we endure the corporate silence and hear the passionate meditations? Will we embrace Friday with our own deep passions, or will we watch detached, from a distance?
And come Saturday morning, will we rise and go to the tomb to anoint him with quiet prayer? Or will we just try to block out the terrible thing that happened on Friday?
Then that night. Will we come for the Vigil, the greatest drama, the central service of the entire Church year? Can we enter the hush and mystery of the darkened church as a new fire is kindled, the Paschal Candle lit, and the ancient hymns are chanted. Can we take in THE STORY that unfolds in word and song. It’s a lot to take in because it starts from the beginning and then as it goes on and on—
We’ll actually write a new chapter ourselves that night as we renew our Baptismal Vows and are sprinkled with the water that reminds us, “We are buried with Christ in his death and raised with him in his glorious resurrection.” Can we be there…up close and personal…as the reality becomes evident: Our own personal stories/lives are actually part of THE STORY: The One that begins in the Bible continues with us! Can we bear the waters of baptism? Can we watch through the night until the Easter morning dawn?
Then, of course, there’s Easter Day, the most amazing story of all because the tomb is empty! He is not here…he is risen! And in knowing that, believing that, we are set free to live our lives joyfully, abundantly. No matter what we’ve ever done, we’re forgiven—Love is stronger than death! God longs to remove our burdens and empower us to live our lives in the light of resurrection. Christ shows us a new way to live!
What a shame to stand at a distance just “watching” these things because THEY’RE ABOUT US!
So, where will we stand this week? Up close with feet wet from washing, bodies satisfied with bread & wine, hearts horrified by his suffering and heavy with grief, with senses sated by music and silence, somber starkness and lavish beauty, profound darkness and radiant light, and the smell of oil and flowers and perhaps incense.
Where will we stand this week?
It’s just a question, but it’s really a matter of life or death! Amen.
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