‘Filled with awe and great joy the women came quickly away from the tomb and ran to tell the disciples.’
These words leapt out at me this morning. I went searching for a picture that would capture ‘awe and great joy’. I had to settle for depicting ‘joy’, but not before I had discounted many pictures of people leaping in the air!
The women have been reassured by an angel that that there is no need for them to be afraid. Jesus has risen as he said he would. I imagine this news filling every fibre of their being. It would be a very natural response to want run and bring this good news to the disciples as quickly as they could.
And where do you find yourself this Easter Monday? Are you leaping for joy? Are you running? Or are you cautiously joyful? Is your joy more slow-release?
Holy Saturday is often spoken about as a day of ‘emptiness and numbness’. On one level this is true, but since entering the monastery I have discovered another dimension. On a day when you could feel out of sorts and not quite know what to do the for best, the framework of the monastic liturgy boundaries time and space for me. We begin the day with Office of Readings and listen to a text from the Lamentations of the Prophet Jeremiah. A cantor sings the descant line and the melody is played on a tenor recorder. It is a hauntingly beautiful combination. Every word is poignant.
‘The favours of the Lord are not all past, nor his kindnesses exhausted; every morning they are renewed; ‘My portion is the Lord’ says my soul, ‘and so I will hope in him.’
‘The Lord is good to those who trust him, to the soul that searches for him. It is good to wait in silence for the Lord to save.‘
There’s tremendous comfort in knowing that the Lord’s kindnesses are not exhausted. There’s hope too in the knowledge that each day God’s love and faithfulness for each of us is renewed.
Can you bring to mind people in your own life who most need to hear these words?
Sometimes in the face of great sorrow and hardship all we can do is ‘wait in silence for the Lord to save.’
Can you pray these verses for someone you know to be suffering great hardship? Can you be the one who waits in silence with them?
Every piece of text in the Good Friday liturgy is heavy with meaning. Pieces of scripture that I may have heard throughout the year have a whole new resonance today. I found it hard to pick just one text. I settled on the text from Hebrews. In a series of fairly complicated chapters the writer wants us to understand that Jesus is our model. It’s that simple. The way in which Jesus lived, loved and worked is our model.
The writer of Hebrews doesn’t sugar coat things. Jesus learns to obey through suffering. This may not sit easily with us. My own instinct is usually to avoid suffering. I wouldn’t naturally associate this with a growth in obedience. It is usually after the event that I look at a period of suffering as a time of growth. Life in the monastery has taught that obedience is much more than keeping rules. It’s a type of deep listening where you confront your true self.
Commentators suggest the writer of Hebrews wants to suggest that Jesus learnt and developed during his life, just like us. On the cross Jesus’ learning is complete and he knows himself as Son. His whole life has pointed to this moment of obedience.
Each year I am stuck by how much the liturgy invites us to engage our senses in Holy Week. We wave a palm branch, we hear the story of the anointing and can imagine the smell of the perfume filling the house, we picture the silver coins of betrayal and night as Judas leaves the Last Supper. When we reach Maundy Thursday we are invited to one of the most intimate rituals in our liturgical year. Bowls, jugs, water, feet, a kiss: here we see our servant King. Here Jesus embodies the kingdom. Every value is reversed. In one verse of Scripture we see the power of the Incarnation;
‘He got up from table, removed his outer garment and, taking a towel, wrapped it round his waist; he then poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel he was wearing’
got up,
removed,
taking,
wrapped,
poured,
wash,
wiped
The ritual of foot-washing always reminds me that there is a two-way dynamic of grace. There is the grace of the one who serves and the grace of the one who accepts the service. Our world needs both.
Can you have the grace both to serve and be served?
Today we have Matthew’s telling of the Last Supper. Once again Judas is in full focus and his actions seem inevitable. Those thirty pieces of silver are lodged in our collective imagination through art, poetry and hymnody. You’ll even find a reminder of this in the Danish name for Honesty, Judas Penge (Judas’ money) and German, Judas Schilling.
Stories of betrayal are always uncomfortable. Betrayal can happen in a matter of seconds. We can say or do something that we can never take back. Perhaps Judas stands for all of our moments of betrayal? Perhaps he stands for all the times we have ‘headed out into the night’? Perhaps he stands for all those times we have watched our hope die and made a wrong choice?
In today’s Gospel the mood intensifies. We can easily imagine the scene of Jesus sharing a meal with his disciples. When film producers portray this they build the drama with music and dramatic pauses. I always imagine it as a sultry night.
Meals are intimate occasions. Friendships can be deepened and difficulties healed through the sharing of food. They can also highlight discord and deepen rifts. In this meal the figure of Judas comes into full focus for us. It’s uncomfortable and leaves me unsettled. I am always left wondering what motivated Judas. There seems a certain inevitability about the events that will unfold.
When Judas leaves the Upper Room we read ‘night had fallen’. This always chills me. In John’s Gospel there is a play between light and darkness, sight and blindness. The very next lines in the text are ‘now has the Son of man been glorified’. There is no portrayal of a victim here. Jesus is in control.
The anointing at Bethany stops me in my tracks each year. For much of the liturgical year the lectionary leads us through the teaching and miracles of Jesus. From time to time we have a personal encounter: Zacchaeus, The Syro-Phoenecian woman, The Samaritan woman etc. Each encounter is life-changing.
Today’s text from John 12 always shifts the focus for me. Here at Bethany Jesus is amongst friends. He has shared his life with them. He has been more than a teacher and a worker of miracles. And then, at this intimate gathering, Mary does one of the most intimate things recorded in the Gospels. In all love and reverence she kneels at his feet, pouring out perhaps the most costly thing she had. She doesn’t speak. She shows her love in a silent action.
On Saturday, in the Fifth Week of Lent, the Breviary reading for Office of Readings is from a sermon by Saint Gregory Nazianzen. We are invited to take part in the Passover in a personal way:
If you are a Simon of Cyrene, take up your cross and follow Christ.
If you are crucified beside him like one of the thieves, now, like the good thief, acknowledge your God. For your sake, and because of your sin, Christ himself was regarded as a sinner; for his sake, therefore, you must cease to sin. Worship him who was hung on the cross because of you, even if you are hanging there yourself. Derive some benefit from the very shame; purchase salvation with your death. Enter paradise with Jesus, and discover how far you have fallen. Contemplate the glories there, and leave the other scoffing thief to die outside in his blasphemy.
If you are a Joseph of Arimathea, go to the one who ordered his crucifixion, and ask for Christ’s body. Make your own the expiation for the sins of the whole world.
If you are a Nicodemus, like the man who worshipped God by night, bring spices and prepare Christ’s body for burial.
If you are one of the Marys, or Salome, or Joanna, weep in the early morning. Be the first to see the stone rolled back, and even the angels perhaps, and Jesus himself.
I have always found this reflection powerful and a helpful way to begin Holy Week. But this year it struck me that the picture is incomplete. The presence of women is barely acknowledged. So I’ve made some additions to St Gregory’s text:
If you are Mary of Bethany, kneel in reverence at your Lord’s feet. Pour out the perfume of your life in the silent action of love.
If you are a server at the meal in the Upper Room, make the finest of banquets and give thanks for the Lord of all Creation.
If you are the servant girl tending the fire in the courtyard of the High Priest’s house, don’t be afraid to recognise those who follow Christ and boldly speak your truth.
If you are one of the Women of Jerusalem, follow Christ closely and weep for the Christ you see in all who suffer.
If you are Mary, the mother of Jesus, watch as the child your bore walks the path that only he can walk. Listen as he calls on his God and your God. Surrender your spirit as he surrenders his.
If you are Mary, the wife of Clopas, remain faithful to the last. Stand at the foot of the cross for all women who must witness suffering.
If you are Mary of Magdala, sit at the foot of the cross, bear the weight of sorrow for every heart that has loved and broken in two.
As we begin Holy Week the Church invites us on a journey. This week is like no other in the year. Spread before us in the liturgies each day is the story of our salvation. We are invited to find ourselves in the scriptural stories.
The First Reading for today from Isaiah can be a helpful starting place for the week.
‘The Lord has given me a disciple’s tongue. So that I may know how to reply to the wearied he provides me with speech. Each morning he wakes me to hear, to listen like a disciple. The Lord has opened my ear.
For my part, I made no resistance, neither did I turn away. I offered my back to those who struck me, my cheeks to those who tore at my beard; I did not cover my face against insult and spittle.
The Lord comes to my help, so that I am untouched by the insults. So, too, I set my face like flint; I know I shall not be shamed.’
The servant knows himself as a disciple. Each day his task is to hear what God is saying. God has already created in him an openness and a readiness. God has opened the servant’s ear.
Make a conscious effort this week to listen to God in the scriptures and those around you.
We’ve met the prophet Ezekiel already during Lent. Woven together with warnings and reminders of just how much Israel has strayed are some of the most memorable prophecies of hope in all of the prophetic literature. Today we hear a promise of gathering together and of unity. Israel has suffered the hardship of being scattered physically in Exile. It had also suffered a kind of fracturing of the heart as it left behind all that it held dear in life and worship. God’s promise is far-reaching and will heal their inner and outer fragmentation. God offers them a covenant of peace.
Covenants are two-way. Israel has her part to play in this new stage of her relationship with God. What is asked is faithfulness in every area of their lives. Nothing is outside God’s remit.
As the war continues in Ukraine the biblical promise of peace can seem illusory. For those whose lives have been shattered, the hope of an end to the war is a life-line.
