Holy Week questions

The Liturgical Year of the Church is meant to take us on an annual pilgrimage. We begin with Advent, celebrate the Incarnation at Christmas, remember the gifts of the Magi to the Holy Family, reflect upon the implications of Christ's (and our own) baptism, participate in Lenten disciplines in preparation for Holy Week, sing for joy at the news of the Resurrection of Jesus our Lord, renew our lives with the knowledge that the Holy Spirit has been given to us, and strive to live faithfully during the "ordinary times" of our lives, culminating with our acknowledgement that Jesus is the Ruler of all. It is an annual cycle, and I've found that observing this cycle has brought a sense of balance to my spiritual life over the years.

Each year, of course, this journey intensifies during the week of events that we long have called "holy." Holy Week begins this Sunday. We traditionally have called this Palm Sunday, remembering Jesus' entry into Jerusalem for the final time. Some churches call this Passion Sunday, mainly, I think, to remind folks who don't or can't attend special services during Holy Week that you can't just skip from the pomp of Palm Sunday to the joy of Easter; the story of the Passion must be a part of our journey - one way or another - during this week.

Holy Week reminds me of questions I need to ask myself...

• Where have I seen the suffering of Christ in the lives of others?
• How do I respond to instances of suffering? Do I pass people by? Do I stop and offer to help carry their cross? Do I weep with others, sharing their pain? Do I judge? Do I ridicule?
• In what ways do I participate in "crucifying" Christ by things I say and do?
• What do I fear about my own suffering?
• How do I approach my own death?
• What do I believe about hope and resurrection?

I find that attending to spiritual disciplines each day, especially during Holy Week, is vitally important to my approach to Easter morning. In fact, I think that how seriously I reflect upon the Passion of Jesus is directly proportionate to how much joy I experience on Easter.

What are your experiences of Holy Week? I invite you to dive into this intense spiritual pilgrimage with your whole being. I don't believe you'll regret it one bit.

Openness to loving...and to being loved

As I write this, it is Maundy Thursday in the Christian calendar. It is a day pregnant with meaning...with somberness...with mystery and awe and wonder. The scene of the Last Supper is vividly etched in the minds of most of us.

In my devotions this morning, part of what I did was read today's entry from The Daily Feast. Here is what the author, Christine Chakoian wrote:

"So it is for us, in the meal that Jesus offered on the night of Passover, on the night before he was to die. We are invited to remember - especially on Holy Thursday - not as if we were present at the Last Supper with our Lord and his disciples but that we were at Table with them. Every time we are at Table, and especially this night, the act of Communion triggers and forms the memory that we were once bound and now are freed, and that we belong to the God who saves us. 

"As we say 'on the night that he was betrayed Jesus took the Passover bread and gave it to us,' we are invited to remember that Jesus offered his life for us, not when we were particularly worthy, charming, faithful, or successful, but when we betrayed him."

The word "Maundy" comes from the Latin word that means "command," from which our word "mandate" derives. It refers to Jesus' commands to wash the feet of others and to love each other as He loved (and loves) us. Perhaps it also implies that we need to open ourselves up to be loved - by God and others - even at those times when we feel most unlovable. 

You've got 15 seconds to sum up the Christian Faith. Go!

I came across a blog post the other day. It was written by Dr. Gary Hansen, Associate Professor of Church History at the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary. UDTS is one of our Presbyterian-related seminaries. The particular post that Gary wrote was entitled, "What Christians Believe in 15 Seconds." This is how he begins this piece:

You are talking with your co-worker from the next cubicle over coffee. She knows you are active in a church. She is in a season of searching. 

"What is Christianity actually all about?" she asks. "I mean, what do you believe?" 

She really wants to know. You really want to tell her. Three problems:

• You have about fifteen seconds before your break is over - the big stuff always happens at the door, right? 

• She does not want an in depth dissertation - she'll listen for about fifteen seconds. 

• You have been a Christian surrounded by Christians your whole life - if you've never been asked, maybe you don't know what to say.

What would you say? How would you respond in this kind of situation? In other words, what would be your "elevator speech" to this woman? 

Interestingly, Gary takes us to the Heidelberg Catechism, one of the documents in the Presbyterian Church's Book of Confessions, which is Part I of our Church Constitution. (Part II is the Book of Order.) This particular document is one of three catechisms in our confessional tradition. A catechism is simply a statement of faith, like a creed or confession, but that is structured in question and answer form. Gary points to the second Q&A as a way to answer this query:

"Q. 2. How many things must you know that you may live and die in the blessedness of this comfort? 

A. Three. First, the greatness of my sin and wretchedness. Second, how I am freed from all my sins and their wretched consequences. Third, what gratitude I owe to God for such redemption." 

As he sums it up, "guilt, grace, and gratitude."

1. We live in brokenness in our lives, our relationships, and our world.
2. God's grace is freely and generously extended to us in the midst of our human condition.
3. Our response is to live lives that demonstrate our gratitude to God for such love and forgiveness.

Years ago I challenged the members of the Committee on Preparation for Ministry that I chaired in the Presbytery I was in then. "We require each of the seminary students under our care to write a Statement of Faith, expressing their own beliefs, and to do that in one page. If we ask them to do that, I'd invite each of us to do that as well." No one took me up on the challenge. However, I wrote my own page. The challenge of distilling this radically into an "elevator speech," when you literally have only a few seconds to share with someone what you believe... well, what would you say? 

Keeping silent...Speaking up

So I find myself striving to find balance today. That's probably true most of the time, but this is my current dilemma. As I've written before in this space, I place a high value on the spiritual discipline of silence: being silent before God in prayer and meditation, being silent in times of reflection and journaling, being silent at times in a group so that I make time to truly listen to what others are saying and what, perhaps, is behind what they're saying.

Yet I also know the importance of words. There are times when situations call for words to be used, for a voice to be heard, for some Word from God to be proclaimed. In those times, silence can not only be inappropriate, but it also can be complicit. I've been wondering if there wasn't a time in the 1930's in Germany when one voice, or a chorus of voices, could have been raised in a way and a time that might literally have changed history. When fear-mongering and nationalism gone amuck were being touted by Hitler and the National Socialist German Workers' Party, what might have happened if the churches had united and spoken with one voice against what was developing? And might that voice have stopped Hitler before his movement got traction?

I've read of those who equate some of the current political rhetoric in our nation with the kinds of things spouted by Hitler. I don't go that far... at least not yet. However, don't we have a responsibility as people of faith to speak a word to our society in response to those who advocate violence, or hate, or xenophobia, or racial, ethnic, and gender discrimination? For me, the answer is "yes." I believe that we DO have a responsibility to proclaim the values of our faith and our tradition as a necessary alternative to too many things being spoken today. The question for me then becomes "how." How do we raise our voice? What venue might we best use? How can we speak from a place of love and compassion rather than just adding to the angry discourses of a fractured society?

• Psalm 46:10 - "Be still, and know that I am God."
• Luke 12:12 - "...the Holy Spirit will teach you at that very hour what you ought to say."

The ancient Desert Saints perhaps found the balance which I seek at this moment. They strongly advocated for the importance of silence, and they practiced that discipline daily. However, they knew that the strongest, most loving, most wise, most powerful words one might utter in any situation are words that come out of those times of silence, those times of reflection, those times of prayer, those times with God. Perhaps, then, as we learn more and more to practice the disciplines of prayer and silence, we also might, paradoxically, find the strength and wisdom we need to speak out.