Frederica Matthewes-Green recounts this little morsel in her writings about this time of year: “It’s that time of year again, when school children are coloring pictures of Jesus hanging from a cross, and shop owners fill their windows with gaily colored cutouts of the Flogging at the Pillar. In the malls everyone’s humming along with seasonal hits on the sound system like “O Sacred Head, Sore Wounded” (did you hear the Chipmunks’ version?). Car dealers are promoting Great Big Empty-Tomb Size discounts on Toyotas.”
Oh yes, it’s beginning to look a lot like Holy Week…
What, that’s not how we do this?
There is something quite ironic about the fact that the most important week in the entire church year is one that has perhaps the least celebration around it in the rest of the world. In fact, it is quite quiet. Holy Week steals into our realities almost as silently as the resurrection did, in the stillness of Easter morning. If we don’t pay attention, we’re going to miss it.
Yet without the events of the week ahead of us, none of us would be here. Yes, physically we might. But the Church wouldn’t be.
Christianity does not exist without the empty tomb. And the empty tomb does not happen without Golgotha. Everything comes down to what happens next.
It will be a big week for us at our particular church, with Sacraments and celebrations, egg hunts and trumpets blaring. There will be candle light and death bells, shadows falling and people shouting.
At the center of everything, though, is a heartbeat. A gentle thump. Thump. The one that breathes life into all of Creation. Thump. Thump. The one that moved as a pillar of fire and cloud in the desert. Thump Thump. The one that washed feet and broke bread and spread his arms. Thump. Thump… Thump… …
The Love of God is the center. Is the heartbeat. Come and find it again.
Blessings, Pastor Janie