Category Archives: Holy Week

Holy Week: Red

04 Tuesday Apr 2023

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from the SALT Lenten project: God of gladness and hope against hope, give us the strength to celebrate and the courage to look ahead with joyful anticipation

The color designated from the panoply of Matisse’s palette for Holy Week is Red! The meditation guide assigns both excitement and suffering to this color. As I live into this week, I am sensing even more emotions on this roller coaster of a week. Yesterday there was a Palm Sunday parade in church all over the world. Children of all sizes waved palm branches and sang. And then this morning a long time friend died, expected, but still leaving a gaping hole in the fabric of the lives that loved her.

The saga of Holy Week has so much emotional energy that fluctuates and careens around our bodies and spirit that it can leave us reeling. Anxiety and deep fear blanketed the atmosphere in old Jerusalem, and does so there today, as well as here in our country right now, as we wait to see what blows might fall, what riots could break out, what fresh new hell is unleashed. There is anger and discontent everywhere. Yet there are moments of sweet connection and intimacy, sharing hearts, ideas and points of view, bring closeness and affirmation. We continue there lament and grief of Lent, as we see so much cruelty, injustice and callowness poured out on those with no protection, no resources and no recourse. And we mourn the deep losses of those who have died with the gaping holes they leave in our lives.

There is a part of me that wished that I could ignore all the drama, hibernate or sail away until there is calm and quiet once again. Yet I know that this drama, and what it means, is the Truth about the human life on this earth and the way the Holy enters into it. My tradition affirms in its Confessions that “In life and in death we belong to God.”

So I wear Red to remind me his week that nothing can separate me from the love of God–not the deaths of those I love or do not know, not the new lives emerging all around me, not the angels who can bring holy presence to places I can’t reach, not the demons that plague hearts and minds, (especially mine!), not the quotidian minutes in which I live, nor the unknown future that frightens me, not any venal powers that seem to be in control for the moment, nor the wildest ecstatic joy, nor the Slough of Despond; nothing in the circumference of my life or the life of the world can take me away from Holy Presence, seen so clearly in the life of Jesus. I can be present to each intense emotion and energy, my own and that of others, and I can stay centered and grounded in the Love that will not let me go. It is the blessing of Holy Week for me.

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Into Holy Week: Taking Delight in Love

12 Friday Apr 2019

Posted by in delight, Holy Week, Lent, Love

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Lent is coming to an end, and I turn into Holy Week, and I have just celebrated another wedding anniversary. In my practice of Taking Delight this Lent, I am aware of how many ways Love has shown up and continues to show up, around me and in the events we commemorate next week, enough to fill an alphabet:

Love is Ample. Love is Blessed. Love is Caring. Love is Delightful. Love is Elegant. Love is Forgiving. Love is Graceful. Love is Holy. Love is Imaginative. Love is Joyful. Love is Kind. Love is Lavish. Love is Mysterious. Love is Nuanced. Love is Observant. Love is Pliable. Love is Quintessential. Love is Redemptive. Love is Splendid. Love is Thoughtful. Love is Useful. Love is Volatile. Love is Wrestling. Love is eXtraordinary! Love is Yearning. Love is Zesty.

And Love is all around–in creation, in children, in old folks, in longtime enemies–now reconciled, in congregations and gatherings, in memories, in animals and birds, in friends and lovers. And in the Presence of the Holy.

During this coming week I will be seeing where Love appears still–in sacred texts, in worshiping groups, in conversations, in halls of governance and political encounter (!), and even in moments of solitude and silence. My prayer is not just that I can take delight in the Love I find, but that I will learn to practice and share Love more deeply in the Easter season to come, awash in the gifts given me through the Holy One–compassion, self-giving, and New Life! I will take Delight in the Love!


Easter Sabbath

31 Saturday Mar 2018

Posted by in celebrations, Easter, grace, Holy Week, rest, sabbath, Uncategorized

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HolySaturdayThe gospel of Luke tells us that after all the profound and intense events of the days of Holy Week, those who loved and followed Jesus, “On the sabbath…rested according to the commandments.” I am entering into that rest today, Holy Saturday. I am taking sabbath in my spirit. It’s not as if I don’t know that there are things that need to be done. But I am intending to let my spirit be at rest. Marva Dawn in her important book, Keeping the Sabbath Wholly, identifies four movements of Sabbath that I am observing inwardly today.

Ceasing: This Easter Saturday I am ceasing from anxiety about tomorrow–whether all the connections will be made, whether the food will suit everybody, whether we will get to church early enough to get a seat, whether or not I have remembered to reach out to everyone. I have done or will do all that can be done, and will no longer worry about what’s undone.

Resting: In between the things I still need to do to make life livable, I will rest–short respites of listening to Bach, a brief snooze before company arrives, a quick reading of a chapter of mystery, a time to sit and gaze at the beautiful back yard in bloom. For a brief shining moment here and there, I will rest my body as well as my spirit.

Embracing: I am opening my arms and heart to the beauty and gifts that are offered to me–an unexpected warm e-mail from abroad from an old friend, a top of the morning snuggle with my beloved, a granddaughter who is coming to decorate for tomorrow. All are welcome in my heart today, gifts from the One who gives good gifts continually. I also intend to welcome the gifts I don’t yet know about!

Feasting: The feasting on food will happen tomorrow in the main, but today, a Sabbath, I am feasting on sacred music, the new bloom of roses, the aroma of Black-Bottom cupcakes, a nostalgic recipe from my children’s birthday parties, the softness of my throw rug and the dog’s silky ears, and the taste of the extra chocolate chips that don’t quite make it into the batter. I am also feasting of the awareness that for this day there is a Grace in not having to do anything to make thing all right, not at home, not in the Church, not in the world. Jesus is at rest, out of pain; I can be too. Tomorrow all the energy and power of Easter will compel me forward again to celebrate, to rejoice, and to let that energy become action for change in the world. But today I am observing sabbath.

I am resting in anticipation of the good news to come!

 

 

 

 

 

Holy Week

12 Wednesday Apr 2017

Posted by in darkness, Holy Week, Light

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(written for the Lenten Reflection book of Seventh Avenue Presbyterian Church, San Francisco)

Holy Week Begins and Ends

Matthew 21: 1-11 and Matthew 27: 11-54

The story arc of the week is dramatic. It begins in grassroots delight as Jesus rides into Jerusalem amidst the crowds cheering, a parade that seems so hopeful and promising. It ends in cowardly and cruel crucifixion of the One that had been celebrated just six days before. Light and darkness in one short week.

So much of our lives consist of the juxtaposition of Light and Darkness. We want to live as children of the Light, but so much Darkness clutters the landscape on a regular basis. A refund check arrives in the same mail as an outstanding bill. A bitter confrontation with a co-worker is followed by as affirming encounter with someone in the community. A crushing election result coexists with an energizing onrush of those who are called and willing to resist, to work for justice and mercy for all. The Holy One is present in all of it.

Janet Morley in her wonderful litany, “For the Darkness of Waiting,” writes:

For the darkness of waiting

       of not knowing what is to come

       of staying ready and quiet and attentive,

       we praise you O God

 

       For the darkness and the light

       are both alike to you.                 (All Desires Known, 1988)

What we witness in Jesus in these texts is that he remained aware of the Mystery we call God both in Light and in the Dark. Whether he was being celebrated or reviled, he never forgot that he belonged to God, and that he was navigating this journey accompanied by the Holy.

I can lose sight of that connection, sometimes in great elation, when I think it is all about me and my wonderfulness; or in great pain and grief, when I lose hope that it will ever end. Jesus walks in Mystery with persistence and grace.

In this Holy Week

-where do I see God’s presence in the celebrations and successes in my life? Do I remember to look?

-how do I witness Holy Presence in times of excruciating pain and disappointment?

-can I learn to trust in the darkness of waiting that in Mystery the Light will shine?

Janet Morley prays:

For the darkness of hoping

       in a world that longs for you,

       for the wrestling and the laboring of all creation

       for wholeness and justice and freedom,

       we praise you O God.

 

       For the darkness and the light

       Are both alike to you.

 

 

 


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Holy Week: The Lorica

24 Thursday Mar 2016

Posted by in blessing, Holy Week, music, peace, prayer, presence

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download-112457-Christ-In-The-Storm-On-The-Sea-Of-Galilee

The last practice from Joyce Rupp that I am observing this holy season is repeating the “lorica,” a Celtic prayer attributed to St. Patrick, invoked for protection and mindfulness. Last week on St. Patrick’s Day my inbox was filled with images and versions of that prayer, in calligraphy, icon and song. I knew that I was going to pray it myself this week, so I enjoyed the diversity of forms that were shared.  From the extended prayer, I especially like these parts:

I arise today with the strength of God to comfort me, the might of God to uphold me, the wisdom of God to guide me…

Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ with me, Christ within me, Christ around me, Christ about me, Christ on my left, Christ on my right…Christ in the heart of everyone that thinks of me, Christ in each mouth that speaks of me, Christ in each eye that sees me, Christ in each one that hears me.

The cadence and the tempo of the prayer ground me in my present moment, who I am right now, and from whence my help comes. But the image of a lorica is an armored breastplate–from medieval times, metal, sturdy impenetrable. Whether it is too remote by centuries or location or I am not a military type, I don’t find that image helpful. Nor, as I looked through books of painting and sculptures of Christ at the end of his life, did I find one that represented the sense on presence and protection that the lorica gives me. Then I  remembered that for several decades I have always carried with me a postcard of Rembrandt’s “Christ in the Storm.” The painting was stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum many years ago, but before it was stolen, I was able to see it hanging there. The painting is huge, impressive, compelling. From the first glance I was captivated by it–the contrast of light and dark, the characters of fear and confusion, and in half-light down toward the right of the painting is Jesus asleep in the boat. The image of the sleeping, yet powerful Christ, stays with me, especially when my own “rough seas” seem to be gigantic and overwhelming. No matter what, I can trust the One who is at rest because he knows that all will be well, and at the right moment, he will rise and say, “Peace, be still,” to the madness, the wreckage, the terror that swirls around me, that swirls in our systems of work and connection, that swirls in the chaotic world.

So in these last days of Lent and Holy Week, I wake each morning saying the words of the Lorica, keeping in the eye of my heart the Christ whose knowledge and power and grace will bring all things to wholeness in the fullness of time.

May Christ guard me today from poison and fire, from drowning and wounding, so my mission may bear fruit in abundance.

 

I prefer my image of Jesus from Rembrandt to the art in this youtube from the Celtic Women, but the song with the words helps me in my planting myself at peace with Jesus in the boat. May each of you have holy days of trust and peace despite the raging of the storm and the roiling of the waters!