by Carol Dixon
Some years ago I was introduced to the Ignatian practice of imagining yourself present in one of the Gospel stories and imagining what one of the characters might have been feeling is a good way to start. My reflective poems for Holy Week and beyond are some of my responses to what might have happened from different perspectives. I hope you enjoy reading them. You may like to read the Passion narratives again yourself and think about which character you identify with today.
Editor’s note: This is part of a series. For Parts 1 & 2, click here.
Part 3 – EASTER DAY
He spoke my name
He spoke my name.
That was how I knew it was him.
No-one ever said my name
like that, before, or since.
I’d had to get out of the city –
the claustrophobic confines
of the upper room, the sombre
atmosphere, forced conversation,
drove me mad; so I stumbled
down the outside stair onto
the quiet paving stones below
and followed my feet.
I wasn’t aware of where I was heading
but found myself back in the garden.
I hadn’t meant to go there
yet when I reached the place I thought
at least I’d be doing something;
replacing the spices, re-arranging
the grave clothes, anything
to keep me close to him.
Then I remembered the stone,
the huge boulder blocking the way,
sealed with Caesar’s insignia,
ringed round with Roman guards.
I couldn’t bear to turn back,
empty hearted, now I’d come so close,
so I pressed on, hoping against hope
for a miracle, just a small something –
a kindly soldier, or friendly passer-by –
so I could see him just once more,
at peace. Not like the last time:
barely cold, broken, lying immobile
while his broken hearted mother wept
as we struggled to do the right thing
and prepare his battered body
before the Sabbath curfew began.
But when I reached the tomb – nothing!
No seal, no stone, no body;
an empty shell with no-one inside.
Oh God! Don’t say they’ve taken him,
defiled in death the body of the Man
I loved; who loved me, and all who
followed, with the passionate love of God.
I looked around frantically and,
in the distance, I espied a figure
in the burgeoning daylight, silhouetted
by the brightening rays of early sun.
Thank God! The gardener.
I hastened to him, falling at his feet:
‘Oh Sir,’ I said, ‘If you know
who has taken him, tell me,
so I can go and get him.’
And then I heard my name,
spoken, as if I’d never heard it before:
‘Mary!’ and I knew. In that moment
I knew everything.
He gently prised my grasping hands
aside and raised me to my feet,
and bade me tell the others
he would see them, back in Galilee.
He spoke my name.
And all my world was filled with joy –
the joy of a new beginning.
| The Garden
‘Very early on Sunday morning, just after sunrise,’ [Mark 16: 2] He watched the trees wafting In some ways, the pain and Even after he accepted the cup, Therefore, in this awakening garden, |
The Gardener
(Tune Traditional: Have you seen my bonny lad?) ‘Tell, if you know where my Lord is laid,’ cries Mary, heart torn with grieving. The Gardener looks on, his heart filled with love. But sorrow stops Mary believing. ‘O Mary, it’s me!’ the Gardener replies, ‘Can you not see through your grieving? A while I was gone, but now I return. Dry all your sad tears, start believing.’ ‘Lord, I believe, I understand now; (the power of death was deceiving), and doubt and despair are things of the past: now I can live truly believing.’ When life is filled with darkness and fear, or the heart is weighed down with grieving the Gardener is near and calls us by name and leads us through doubt to believing. © Stuart J. Brock (Used with permission)
|
The Road to Emmaus
We were walking slowly. Taking our time you might say, for there were about seven miles to go. I’m not sure that I really wanted to return to our lodging at Emmaus. I wanted to stay in Jerusalem with the others. The other women, that is. We needed to think about what had happened to us that morning. What we had seen and heard. Even if none of the men believed us. Perhaps, just perhaps, we need not be in despair, as we had been since Friday evening. But Cleopas wanted to get away. He was heartsick with grief and disappointment. He had been so sure that Jesus was the one who would save us, which for him meant somehow getting rid of the Romans. He wasn’t exactly a zealot, you understand, but if push had come to shove, he was ready to man the barricades under Jesus’s leadership. So he had been desolate since Friday, and he was indignant that the strange message that Jesus had risen – even if he didn’t believe it – should have been given to women.
He couldn’t leave it alone. He mourned the death of our leader. He lamented the lost opportunity. He questioned me about what the men – the angels? – had said to us. I wished he would be quiet, though I didn’t say it. I had never been quite sure about Jesus as a king in this world, leading a military coup. It didn’t seem like him. It contradicted most of the things he had ever said. And I wanted to think quietly about what happened this morning. To ponder in my heart.
Then I realised there was someone walking beside us. I don’t know when he joined us, or where he came from. I didn’t think it was anyone I knew. He seemed to be listening to Cleopas’s diatribe, and my dutiful answers. Then he spoke. It wasn’t a voice I recognised, and yet…
“What is it that you are talking about?”
We stopped and looked at him. Cleopas said, “You must be the only person in Jerusalem that doesn’t know about what’s been happening there these last days.” I smiled to myself. Trust Cleopas to think his concerns were at the forefront of everybody’s mind. I was pretty sure that most of the people who were visiting Jerusalem had kept well out of the way of trouble and only had a hazy idea of the matter. Cleopas continued, “How the authorities took Jesus of Nazareth who was a prophet and a teacher, and our leader, and handed him over to the Romans to be crucified. We thought – hoped that he was the one who would deliver Israel, but we can forget that now. And then, if you please, some of the women in our group,” he carefully didn’t look at me, “went to the tomb this morning and came back with a cock and bull story about him having risen from the dead. I ask you!”
The stranger shook his head and spoke rebukingly – yet I thought there was a smile in his eyes. “How foolish you are. Don’t you understand anything you’ve been told? Don’t you remember what the prophets have said?” Then he set to and explained everything Isaiah and the other prophets has said about the Messiah, and what would happen to him. It made perfect sense. Suddenly, Friday didn’t seem such a disaster. We could understand why it had to happen. I was almost happy. I felt a warm glow inside. It reminded me of that time we sat in a great crowd on the hillside and Jesus told us how we should behave.
By the time he’d finished we had reached Emmaus. As we turned into the house, the stranger seemed to be going on, but Cleopas stopped him. “It’s getting late,” he said. “Come in and stay with us.” So he came in with us. I put food and wine upon the table. We sat down and he picked up the bread. I watched his hands, fascinated. He blessed the bread, broke it, and handed it to us, with that gesture we had seen so many times. We both gasped. It was the Lord. But even as we realised, he just wasn’t there anymore.
We stared at each other. We knew this was something we had to share with everyone. With the whole world! But first… “We must go back to Jerusalem and tell the others,” I said. “ Are you sure you want to? Won’t you be too tired?” He asked.
“Tired! I feel as if I could walk all round the Middle Sea and not be tired.” So we set off back the way we had come. But oh, how differently. We discussed what Jesus had told us, making sure we understood what he meant. We laughed and rejoiced. Cleopas wasn’t grumbling now.
It must have taken us nearly two hours to get back but it felt like a few minutes. We burst into the room where our friends were. “The Lord is Risen!” exclaimed Cleopas. “Indeed He is.” They replied. “Simon has seen him.” Poor Cleopas. He so wanted to be first with the news. But he swallowed his chagrin and told them all that had happened and what Jesus had said to us. © Fiona Middlemist (Used with permission)
(Author’s note: There is a theory that the unnamed traveller to Emmaus was a woman, that is, the wife of Cleopas. I have wondered if she was also one of the women at the tomb that morning. Different Gospels give different accounts of who went on that sad errand. If you look in the previous section of the chapter of Luke you will see that he mentions “Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James and the other women. On the assumption that this woman was one of them, I have tried to imagine how she viewed this experience of encountering the risen Lord. In John’s Gospel, one of the women at the Cross was named as ‘Mary the wife of Cleopas. Perhaps this was the same woman.)
Part 4 – RESURRECTION LIFE
Thomas
I’ve just spent the worst few weeks of my life!
Everything was wonderful – then it fell apart.
That last supper with Jesus was something special,
despite the undercurrents of unease
and the usual bickering over which one of us –
his closest friends – would be the greatest.
Well, we all failed that one spectacularly I can tell you.
Judas most of all. I still can’t understand why he did it –
betraying Jesus to the authorities.
Peter didn’t come out of it too well either –
denying he ever knew him.
I must admit though at least Peter had the guts to go
with John to the trial (if you can call it that –
stitch-up more like). The rest of us just scattered.
I couldn’t follow him to the Cross, seeing the Lord we loved reduced
to a tortured, bleeding lump of humanity.
The stench of sweat and excrement – of death, hanging in the air.
But it wasn’t that I couldn’t stand.
I suppose I could have steeled myself to watch his stretched out agony,
the pain of listening to them taunting him,
the embarrassment of his being killed as a common felon.
No, it was his love I couldn’t bear.
Still loving to the end. Loving them – his enemies;
loving us – his unfaithful friends. Loving me.
And afterwards – it was all we talked about in the upper room;
every sordid detail, over and over again.
Then on Sunday morning that madwoman from Magdala
came in with such a tale: She’d seen him, talked to him, touched him.
I couldn’t take it in. I just cut and ran.
When I got back the rest of them were at it.
“You’ve just missed him,” they said. “He’s been here.
We gave him the leftovers from supper.”
I thought they were having me on at first, then I realised they meant it.
I told them straight: “You’re all crazy. I’ll never believe it – not unless
I can put my finger in the nail holes and stick my hand in the wound in his side.”
And I turned my back on it and walked out.
[Read John chapter 20 verses 26-31 and find out what happened]
Photo © Jackson David Unsplash
A prayer
Loving Lord, often like Thomas we doubt your power
to rise above the death-like situations
in our lives and in our world.
When we recall the sudden deaths, murders,
painful experiences, and serious illness
of people around us, some of whom
we know and love personally;
When we think of the wars, terrorist bombings,
famines, and other disasters which wreak havoc
around us, we want to run away and hide.
Help us to have the courage
to reach out and touch your scars,
borne for the world, and for us,
so that we may be healed,
renewed, and see your risen life
in the broken people and places
of our world, and acclaim you again
as our Lord and our God. Amen.
| Watcher on the shore
‘There stood Jesus on the beach; but the disciples did not know it was Jesus.’ [John 21: 4] Sitting on the shore He regarded them more He looked at the sea To be able to look on ‘Cast your nets on the
|
At the lakeside
It was the lad – John – who saw him first; Afterwards when everyone was sated and settled ‘Yes, Lord,’ I said again. ‘You know I love you.’ I looked back and saw the lad was following. And I did, to the end…. So can you. |
Photo 
Acknowledgements
Some of the above have been published by the Iona Community Wild Goose publications who are happy for them to be used for non-commercial purposes with the acknowledgement (C) Carol Dixon Iona Wild Goose Publications – All heaven weeps [Candles & Conifers]; Sister of Mary [Spring] ; At the lakeside [Fire & Bread] all edited by Ruth Burgess.
I have also included two items written by friends of mine with their permission.
*Note the Special Time!* Join Christine Sine and Tom Sine for a FB Live discussion about Earth Day on Wednesday, April 20th at 11 am PT. You can join us live in the Godspace Light Community group, or catch us later on YouTube for the recording!
by Carol Dixon
Some years ago I was introduced to the Ignatian practice of imagining yourself present in one of the Gospel stories and imagining what one of the characters might have been feeling is a good way to start. My reflective poems for Holy Week and beyond are some of my responses to what might have happened from different perspectives. I hope you enjoy reading them. You may like to read the Passion narratives again yourself and think about which character you identify with today.
Editor’s Note: This is part of a series. For parts 3&4, click here
Part 1 – SUPPER PARTIES
Martha reflects …..
Free to be
Yes,
of course I was scandalised, shocked
by my sister’s behaviour at the banquet
we held in the Master’s honour,
expressing our undying gratitude
to celebrate our brother’s incredible
return, from the bonds of death
and the tomb.
At this supper party there
was only rejoicing – no time
for teaching, or sitting at the foot
of a respected Rabbi, like lads
receiving their learning
in school.
She had been such a help all day,
in the kitchen, waiting on the men
as they ate – exactly what women
have done in every generation.
She’s growing up at last, I thought.
Then this!
She came in meekly enough,
carrying her precious alabaster jar,
left as a dowry by our father.
I have one exactly the same.
I polished it yesterday before
the guests arrived and put it back
on the shelf in the cupboard –
the only place in the house
with a lock.
She knelt on the floor in front of him
and broke the seal – the exotic perfume
pervaded the place, its heavy scent
almost took our breath away.
Her audacious actions did that
when she removed her veil, allowing
her hair to fall freely, hanging loose
and lustrous in front of the entire
company.
Slowly she poured the expensive
ointment over his calloused feet,
washing them first with her tears
and tenderly wiping them, as though
there were only the two of them
in the room, only the two of them
in the world.
It was such an intimate, private
moment, it seemed almost intrusive
to watch; till Judas jealously broke
the silence with his caustic comment
about the poor, voicing the acute
embarrassment
of us all.
The Master, as always, saw past
her generous gesture and looked
into all our hearts, commending her
for what she did, while the rest of us
felt shamed – not by her lavish love,
but by our own meagre
response.
So, yes, I was shocked
and scandalised; of all the people
gathered there that night, only
my little sister, Mary, had the heart
to act upon her impulsive intuition
and serve the Lord, without restraint,
casting aside the bonds of convention,
letting go of dignity and pride,
to give her all.
| Foot-washing
Photo: © Julian Sanders Then Jesus took a towel It was Mary who started it – who sowed the seed of the idea in my mind, to wash the feet of my friends. Her absolute humility, and adoration as she poured out the perfumed ointment, anointing me for my burial. She didn’t care that others were scandalised, as Peter was when I first knelt to wash his feet, yet in the end he embraced the act with joy. I’ll never know what Judas felt; perhaps he revolted inwardly as I stooped before him, offering my whole-hearted love. Something had changed in him the night he saw Mary prostrate herself at my feet; the crisis had been coming for a while. It wasn’t just the money, it was her utter devotion; maybe he suspected he could never match that and second best was not enough for him. So he distanced himself from me, from the cause, from the kingdom, recoiling from the intimacy that I wanted to share with all as I knelt with bowl and towel. If you had been there, ask yourself, What would you have done?
|
The Upper room
It was a night like any other night – In the candlelight, comfortable, replete, Yet on that night something was different. Then, as the meal progressed, a moment of tension, And party it was – with fun and laughter, ‘As I am broken for you – be broken for each other, And so the precious promise passed,
|
Part 2 – THE WAY OF THE CROSS
He was held down
He was held down,
One kneeling on him,
Pinioning each arm
As nails were driven
Into his flesh,
While he lay helpless
On the hard ground.
People standing by
Looked on, silent,
In the face of authority
As he gasped
‘Father, forgive them,
For they know not
What they do.
Father, forgive us
For each time
We condone
Injustice and hate,
Allow mob rule
And violence to prevail,
Or stand idly by
While those in authority
Go unchallenged,
When we refuse to forgive,
Forget to bring your peace
And love for all to the world,
For each time we do
Christ is crucified again.
All heaven weeps
All heaven weeps
To see the earth
Abused and maimed by war and strife;
When people hate,
When people fight,
And rob each other of their life.
Chor: Kyrie Elieson, Kyrie Elieson
Lord have mercy, God forgive us, for we know not what we do.
When greed prevails
And, crushed by power,
The poor are trampled on for gain,
The heart of God
Is torn in two,
And Christ is crucified again.
Chor: Kyrie Elieson, Kyrie Elieson
Lord have mercy, God forgive us, for we know not what we do. (2x)
All Heaven Weeps:
| The Centurion
Icon: The Crucifixion I never recognised him – can you believe that? The man who healed my servant all those years ago – was it only three? – in Capurnaum; who gave the order, like I give orders every day, and the boy was saved. Here, on Skull Hill, I gave another order; nails were hammered through flesh and our detachment strung the three of them up. The lads settled down to their dicing to while away the waiting time – always the worst part. I didn’t join in. Who wants to win a sweat-stained bundle of peasants’ clothes? Instead I stood and watched the small crowd gathered near his Cross – no trouble-makers here, just a group of broken-hearted relatives and friends keeping a last vigil by his side, while the sky darkened at the sun’s eclipse. It reminded me of descending into the darkness of the Mithraum at my initiation rite when, as a young soldier, proud to wear the uniform of Rome, I had been spattered by the blood of the sacrificial bull – hot, sticky – the stench stayed with me for days, a sign of salvation, they said, though nothing changed. Yet here, as his blood spurted from his pierced side, something happened – I’m still not sure what; life goes on the same as usual – orders given and received; but somehow, by HIS blood, I am…. different – healed. Surely this man was the Son of God.
|
The sister of Mary
Icon: Taking Down From The Cross I didn’t want to be here, you know. Here, at the crucifixion; but I had to come because of his mother, my sister. I had to be there for her. Jesus was the joy of her heart, the apple of her eye, her first born – never mind how he was conceived – first born are always special in a way, and he was, mark my words, he was; so good at following in his father’s footsteps. Then after Joseph died it all changed. Oh he remained for a while as head of the household but as soon as his brothers and sisters were able to support their mother, he was off. First of all he went to follow that wild cousin of his, John (what a disappointment he must have been to his elderly parents), the desert man, living off locusts and wild honey, just like one of those strange prophets, long ago. But Jesus didn’t stay long with him. No, he came back up north and soon had quite a following himself – a mixed bunch from fishermen to tax collectors, the riff raff of society – with a few zealots thrown in. So it’s little wonder he ended up here, really, crucified between two criminals. it shouldn’t have happened though – he wasn’t a rebel
He was good and kind and healed people, helped whoever came to him in need. And now here he is, in need of us as we lower his battered body, and rest it in his anguished mother’s arms, for one last time before we lay it in the borrowed tomb. So that’s why I’m in this place where I really don’t want to be, God knows, I’m here for his mother, yet despite myself I’ve become part of it too. |
Acknowledgements
Some of the above have been published by the Iona Community Wild Goose publications who are happy for them to be used for non-commercial purposes with the acknowledgement (C) Carol Dixon Iona Wild Goose Publications – All heaven weeps [Candles & Conifers]; Sister of Mary [Spring] ; At the lakeside [Fire & Bread] all edited by Ruth Burgess.
Editor’s Note: This is part of a series. For parts 3&4, click here
I have also included two items written by friends of mine with their permission.
Looking for a liturgy for Maundy Thursday? Download this free booklet produced by Saint Andrews Episcopal Church and made possible through Godspace by kind permission of Cherry Hairston.
I pray along the road of Via Dolorosa,
to experience the love that led you here.
I pray along the road
that brought you to the cross.
I pray among the silence
of no retaliation.
I listen for the answers that
never came,
and the lack of words that spoke
a greater word
all the same.
I pray beside the taunts and
jeers that lined
the road of each step you took.
I pray as I hear a man called
from out of the crowd
to carry this cross for you.
I pray to see the deeper meaning
of the road you traveled.
I pray to hear the hammering in
of nails and the rolling of the dice.
I pray to hear the gambling voices
and to see the sign above your
head, a crown of thorns.
I pray to hear the words
of men on either side, crucified.
I pray to see your eyes,
to see your eyes, and love
poured out from your side,
blood and water words,
Father forgive them, they know
not what they do.
I pray to know the power in
the blood you shed,
your sacrifice, your giving over,
your choice to humble so yourself
that stars bowed down and
the sky lost its way
as it plummeted down
on the final breath you breathed.
I pray to see beyond the
silence that then fell,
the chaos that ensued,
your Beloved ones
weeping with the grief
they never knew could be.
I pray to hear the shouts
from the soldiers looking
up aghast with revelation:
Surely, this man was the
Son of God.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I pray to see the morning
beyond this day, the fullness
of your grace,
your resurrected face
among the flowers and the dew.
Before returning to your Father,
appearing to your waiting friend,
there to pour out on you,
anointing oils for burial.
I pray to feel the surprise of that day,
as face to face, she mistook you
for a gardener.
I pray to once again be
astonished by the vanquishing
of sin, as the sun arose
differently from that day forevermore;
upon your resurrection.
I pray to hear the words
you spoke, on the light of the morning
to the friend who gasped with recognition,
receiving the first message
from the One who rose again,
I am ascending to my God and your God,
to my Father and your Father.
Photo by Jenneth Graser of a sculpture by Right Mukore of Right Sculptures, Montebello Design Centre, Newlands, Cape Town, taken with permission.
Journey through Lent with this downloadable bundle featuring Prayer Cards, 40 Daily Ideas Guide for Lent, and our Lenten devotional – A Journey Into Wholeness: Soul Travel from Lent to Easter. Bundled together for convenience and savings!
by Christine Sine
For the joy set before him he endured the cross,(Heb 12:2)
Last week I talked about the tears of blood Jesus shed and the agony he endured, but this week “the joy that was set before him” has held my attention because the expectation of the healing and restoration that his sacrifice would bring to all humanity and in fact to the whole world is, I am sure, what held Jesus’ attention for a lot of that final week of his life.
For the joy that was set before him, Jesus paraded into Jerusalem on that fateful Palm Sunday, knowing that it would totally alienate him from the Roman rulers who were also coming to Jerusalem with all their pomp and ceremony to demonstrate their power and might at the upcoming Passover feast. I love to imagine this joyful parade, with kids dancing and singing and their parents waving palm fronds and shouting hosanna, probably dancing and singing too. I wonder if at times Jesus got down to dance with them. Certainly no pomp and ceremony but as one of the people.
This was a joyful celebration of hope and expectation, a glimpse of God’s eternal world of joy and wholeness that was to come. Yet for Jesus there must have been sadness as well. He knew how fickle these crowds were. He knew that in a few days they would reject and crucify him. Yet for the joy that was set before him he entered into their joy and endured what was to come.
For the joy that was set before him, Jesus goes to the temple, overturns the tables, and heals the sick, further alienating the Jewish leaders and priests. Here too we catch glimpses of the joy that was set before him as the children circle around singing and shouting “Hosanna to the King” (Matt. 21:14,15) I love that the children were filled with the joy of what Jesus was doing. I think that they were the only ones who really delighted in the wonder of what he was doing. It certainly seems as though they are the only ones shouting hosanna now. Where I wonder are the adults that a few hours ago were shouting with them?
Then for the joy that was set before him, Jesus celebrates what he knows will be his last Passover with his disciples, enduring what must have been a bitter-sweet celebration for him, knowing that in one of his companions was the seeds of betrayal. The joy of feasting with his friends must have been tinged with the knowledge of Judas’s treachery.
For the joy that was set before him, Jesus endured the agony of his prayers in the garden of Gethsemane. Theologian Willie James Jennings said “I look at joy as an act of resistance against despair and its forces.” I know he entered into the full extent of the sorrows of the world as he literally wept tears of blood. But I also think he spent time savoring the joy that was set before him as he remembered the glimpses of God’s joyful world he had experienced and brought into the lives of others through his healing, feeding and teaching. Part of his resistance to all the pain and suffering he would endure was his joy at the thought that through his suffering all pain, not only in his life but in the entire world was being vanquished by his sacrifice.
For the joy that was set before him, Jesus endured the cross. With Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion, there must have been a loss of joy, not just for him but for his followers too. Joy seemed to have gone out of all the world. Now there are no shouts of hosanna, not even from his disciples. This was a time for endurance and a willingness to accept the path laid out for him.
Then came Easter Sunday, the day of resurrection and the return of joy to the world. This was the birthing of the full joy that Jesus looked forward to. This was the joy of a new world healed and made whole through his suffering. Once again there are shouts of hosanna at least by his disciples. Hosannas that echo through the centuries as we now join in with their shouts of praise. I think of that as I remember the suffering of the Ukrainian people. They are enduring this horror because of their hope for a joy-filled future in which their country is liberated from the bondage of oppression and set free.
Cole Arthur Riley reminds us when the temple of God is rebuilt after being destroyed during the exile that the people celebrated with joy but the elders wept because of their memories of the original temple. “No one could distinguish the sound of the shouts of joy for the sound of weeping, because the people made so much noise. (Ezra 3:13, NIV)
As Cole Arthur Riley says “I have found no better portrait of joy. Sorrow and celebration all mixed together in a holy cacophony. A collective so loud that weeping and laughter are made one. A sound so loud that it is heard by others, even those far away.” (This Here Flesh, 169)
I can imagine that God’s eternal world is a little like that. The sorrow and celebration are mixed together to create a cacophony of sound. Jesus’ hands are still scarred as are all of us, but bubbling up inside is the exuberant joy of the seeds of a new world birthed.
Today I look out on our cherry tree, now in full bloom and I rejoice at the beauty of it, as I do at the beauty of all the glorious spring flowers around Seattle. This Easter season, this season of blossom and greening is one that is birthed out of the darkness of winter but it is only a beginning, just as Jesus’ resurrection was. Springtime offers us hope for a future abundant harvest. Similarly, Jesus’ fortitude offers the hope of a future of abundance of healing and justice and peace. The full joy that Jesus’ endurance gave birth to is yet to come. Hallelujah.
*Note the Special Time!* Join Christine Sine and Tom Sine for a FB Live discussion about Earth Day on Wednesday, April 20th at 11 am PT. You can join us live in the Godspace Light Community group, or catch us later on YouTube for the recording!
An beautiful contemplative service with music in the spirit of Taize for Palm Sunday.
Carrie Grace Littauer, prayer leader, with music by Kester Limner and Andy Myers.
Permission to podcast/stream the music in this service obtained from One License with license #A-710-756 with additional notes below:
“Magnificat”, “Christe Lux Mundi (Christ You are Light)” Copyright and all rights reserved by GIA/Les Presses de Taizé
“Watching, Waiting, Hoping” Music and Lyrics by Kester Limner, shared under the Creative Commons License, Attribution (CC-BY)
“Be Thou My Vision” Traditional Irish hymn, public domain. Arrangement by Andrew Myers and Kester Limner, shared under the Creative Commons License, Attribution (CC-BY)
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Perhaps unusually, when I think of Palm Sunday I remember two stories. One is a biblical one – Michal in 1 Samuel 6. Her husband, King David, is returning from a procession where the Ark, the symbol of God’s presence, is finally being returned, carried into the capital. He has danced, exuberantly, with joyous abandon, not a response of duty or kingly restraint, but of openness to God in the freest of worship. But Michal, who has watched the celebration from the isolation of a window, greets him with sarcastic ridicule. There is no celebration for her. Lest we are too quick to judge, hers is a tragic story where she has been the pawn, the victim, of political events in which her husband and father were enemies.
The second is a few years ago when a friend of mine was receiving a series of blessings from God in a season where she was experiencing the Holy Spirit in new ways. I felt on the outside, envious of the sense of closeness to God others seemed to find so easy. I had not meant to be scathing, but clearly something in my attitude reflected my feelings. A good friend, she told me that my stance was hurting her heart. I apologised, and the relationship remained strong, but I retained a sense of looking in from the outside, like the Match Girl glimpsing the beauties others experienced.
And so to Palm Sunday. Again there is a huge celebration as Jesus – the bodily presence of God – is carried into the city. But not everyone can join in. The Pharisees are disturbed, and ask him to rebuke the disciples. Jesus says if they are quiet, the stones will celebrate. Creation must recognise the arrival of the creator – if people don’t, the stones will!
Perhaps we are too harsh on the Pharisees. After all they refer to him as teacher, and they don’t ask him to stop the procession, just to quieten his disciples. Perhaps they were scared it would be deemed an uprising and bring down the wrath of the Romans. Certainly they were concerned to keep the tradition, the laws which they saw not as a means to win God’s approval but as a sign of his love and grace. Whatever the reasons, they cannot celebrate. They love God, want to serve him, but as Jesus is carried into Jerusalem they just can’t join in. And they want to stop the joyous celebration of others
Sometimes even for good people, joy can be elusive. This is a break-out moment. It does not take away from the sadness which will come. Indeed only a few moments later Jesus is racked with sobs over the city he loves which will reject him. Jesus knows this entry is provocative and what will ensue. But biblically celebration and sadness can sit side by side. For a moment we can let go our sadness to celebrate the exuberant goodness of God – his presence in our midst. All worship comes from joy, but a joy forged sometimes from the darkest of places. When there’s ‘pain in the offering’ – as we sometimes sing perhaps too lightly or with too little understanding – there is a profound depth in worship.
Joy perhaps needs to be distinguished from noise. It may include it at times – it clearly did on this occasion – but joy can break out in gentleness even in environments where we are quiet, or through the quietest of personalities. There are sadnesses that no work, no duty, no striving or attempt at denial can heal. But joy is still a possibility. It is a possibility because the king has come. The presence of God is here.
Imagine how different it could have been if Michal could for a moment laid aside the disappointments of her life and made her way down, hitched up her own skirts and danced. If the Pharisees could have left aside their worries about getting it right and joined hands with the children. If you or I could leave aside all the valid and huge concerns of our times and simply, for a moment, enjoy the presence of the King, our extraordinary Saviour.
It can be hard to really open ourselves up to the celebration, the joy of God. It may be personal circumstances, quiet hurts and pains, known or unknown to others. Communion is a good way to again recognise and receive the presence of God into our lives no matter what. Or perhaps we worry about our reputation, or that of the church, or about doing things right. Yet maybe God is calling us to joyous celebration. This is about the heart more than what we do. And certainly, let’s decide we are not going to criticise those who express their joy differently from us, with more or less exuberance. We can celebrate together as we enjoy our differences.
So today let’s open ourselves to the joy of God. He comes to us again: our King and our Saviour.
- https://www.thoughtco.com/little-matchstick-girl-short-story-739298
- Matt Redman Blessed be your name
Photo by Poppyette on Pixabay
Check out our Lent, Holy Week, and Easter resource page for inspiring posts, helpful products and resources, and gathered lists of liturgies and more to help you plan an Easter service, a solo journey through Holy Week, or a family adventure.
Holy Week is almost here.
And if you are in shock that the Calendar has sped through March and is already deep into April, you are not alone!
As one friend said … I can’t believe it’s Palm Sunday THIS Sunday! And as another friend said at the beginning of Lent, “I’m not doing Lent this year, we’ve been living Lent for the past two years!” This is so true! The layers of Lent, the layers of trauma and exhaustion are many! Thanks pandemic, thanks politics, thanks 24/7 news! And it still grows for some of us daily. We really do need to baby step into Holy Week.
Originally Lent started now … living into the last week of the life of Jesus rather than a whole 40-day fasting experience.
Tradition says that Mary, Jesus’s mom was the first to walk the Way… what became the stations of the cross to remember the suffering of her son.
How can we remember and engage in the Story this week?
You might find some stations of the cross to pray with at your local Catholic Church.
Start with Palm Sunday…
Start by reading Luke 19:28-48
After telling this story, Jesus went on toward Jerusalem, walking ahead of his disciples. 29 As he came to the towns of Bethphage and Bethany on the Mount of Olives, he sent two disciples ahead. 30 “Go into that village over there,” he told them. “As you enter it, you will see a young donkey tied there that no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. 31 If anyone asks, ‘Why are you untying that colt?’ just say, ‘The Lord needs it.’”
32 So they went and found the colt, just as Jesus had said. 33 And sure enough, as they were untying it, the owners asked them, “Why are you untying that colt?”
34 And the disciples simply replied, “The Lord needs it.” 35 So they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their garments over it for him to ride on.36 As he rode along, the crowds spread out their garments on the road ahead of him. 37 When he reached the place where the road started down the Mount of Olives, all of his followers began to shout and sing as they walked along, praising God for all the wonderful miracles they had seen.
38 “Blessings on the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in highest heaven!”
39 But some of the Pharisees among the crowd said, “Teacher, rebuke your followers for saying things like that!” 40 He replied, “If they kept quiet, the stones along the road would burst into cheers!”
41 But as he came closer to Jerusalem and saw the city ahead, he began to weep. 42 “How I wish today that you of all people would understand the way to peace. But now it is too late, and peace is hidden from your eyes. 43 Before long your enemies will build ramparts against your walls and encircle you and close in on you from every side.
44 They will crush you into the ground, and your children with you. Your enemies will not leave a single stone in place, because you did notrecognize it when God visited you.[b]”
45 Then Jesus entered the Temple and began to drive out the people selling animals for sacrifices. 46 He said to them, “The Scriptures declare, ‘My Temple will be a house of prayer,’ but you have turned it into a den of thieves.”47 After that, he taught daily in the Temple, but the leading priests, the teachers of religious law, and the other leaders of the people began planning how to kill him. 48 But they could think of nothing, because all the people hung on every word he said.
- After listening/reading the gospel, picture the scene. Imagine the crowds. What do you see, smell, notice about the things happening around Jesus. How are you feeling? What do you notice? Take some time to consider this and talk to Jesus about how you are feeling. You might journal about this.
- It’s Palm Sunday this Sunday at the start of year three of the Pandemic and as a war rages in Ukraine. Are you cheering today or feeling more like jeering this Palm Sunday? No emotions are wrong. We are loved by Jesus just as we are. Talk to Jesus about where you are today.
- “Hosanna,” an Aramaic word that means “O, save (bring the victory), Lord!” The crowds along the road were looking for salvation from the Empire of Rome. What “elements of empire” would you like to be saved from today? What areas of your life, or problems you see around you would you like to be delivered from today? Talk to Jesus about this.
- How does it make you feel to know that Jesus weeps? He weeps for Jerusalem and for everyone who doesn’t recognize him and the peace He gives. Who in your life needs to know this peace? Pray for these people. Maybe it’s you today! ask Jesus to give you more of his peace and eyes to see Him at work.
- What things are getting in the way of people experiencing God, the church, and prayer? What things need cleansing? What is blocking, or cluttering up your temple court today and separating you from God? Talk to Jesus about this and allow Him to cleanse you!
Notice where you are today.
Be compassionate and curious.
Know that however you are
Up or down
Confused or confident
Jesus sees you & loves you!
Jesus invites you to go slowly into Holy Week and experience his last week with him.
Holy Week with your Cup
Here are some ways to get you started:
You can experience the week with your coffee cup… (explanation here)
I created a way to pray through Holy Week with your Cup. Download the Link here.
PRAY Through the Week with Art:
Palm Sunday Slide Show of Art by James Tissot
Asian and African Art for Holy Week
LISTEN AND WATCH: You might also create your own Holy Week Play List
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ACTION: Take a walk outside and imagine Jesus arriving in your city or neighborhood. Imagine the streets lined with people cheering. Imagine the city leaders or the leaders of churches getting upset. FIND A STONE/ROCK along your walk to use as a daily reminder to praise Jesus and to remind you to pray for your city & neighborhood.
Holy Week Centerpiece
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CREATE A CENTERPIECE to use throughout the week with your family, friends or on your own learn how in this post with a PDF to print out.
We are invited to walk with Jesus in his last week of life…take a walk and be with Jesus outside…what do you notice? Watch for signs of life. Breathe. Notice the clouds, the sunshine, or stars. Listen to the wind, the birds, even the traffic.
Jesus is with us in all the mess of our lives. In the Message Bible, Eugene Peterson starts the passage before the Palm Sunday/Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem in Luke 19:28 with the heading “God’s Personal Visit.” Jesus came to Earth as one of us, TO each of us and FOR each of us. I am grateful that Jesus knows our pain and weeps with us. I am grateful that Jesus understands our suffering and longs for each of us to know his love and peace.
Jesus, We enter the week slowly with you. Help us to walk with you daily. AMEN
©lillylewin and freerangeworship.com
Lent continues, the season is still full of possibility and promise. Are you finding ashes and desiring beauty? Now available as an online course, this virtual retreat will help you to lay out your garment of lament and put on your garment of praise. Gather your joys and release your grief with Christine Sine and Lilly Lewin! Click here for more info!
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