Category: Holy Week

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Divine Office Holy Saturday Holy Week Lectio Divina Lent Prayer Prophetic voices Scripture

In The Emptiness

Photo by Anton Maksimov on unsplash.com

After the high drama of Good Friday people often talk of Holy Saturday as a “tomb day”, a time to sit with the emptiness that follows death, to allow the events of Good Friday to sink in. I recognise the yearning for that and its wisdom. Yet, it’s not an experience I recognise from monastic life.

In practice, for many of us Holy Saturday is very much a hybrid day, we are aware of its emptiness, the mourning and the uncertainty. We also have to acknowledge that the Easter vigil is fast approaching and that Easter liturgies and treats do not plan themselves. So it is also a day of preparation and anticipation that can be very busy.

As we move through this hybrid day I’m reflecting on these words from the Lamentations of the prophet Jeremiah from this morning’s Office of Readings:

“The favours of the Lord are not all past, nor his kindnesses exhausted; every morning they are renewed: great is his faithfulness. My portion is with the Lord says my soul, and so I will hope in him.”

Even in the midst of his lamentation Jeremiah is able to acknowledge the kindness and faithfulness of God, and to put his hope in that. His words speak to me of the hybrid reality of the day. It seems to me that the emptiness of Holy Saturday calls us to imitate God’s kindness to others as we get on with the many preparations for Easter, and to ourselves as we seek small moments of quiet during the day.

In the emptiness of Holy Saturday where are you aware of the Lord renewing your capacity for kindness?

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Divine Office Good Friday Gospel Holy Week Lectio Divina Lent Liturgy Scripture Triduum

Being There.

Image © Ally Barrett (www.reverendally.org) and used by permission

BACKGROUND READING MARK 15:1-41 AND
JOHN 19 17-37 OR JUST JOHN 19 17-37

Salome was one of women who followed Jesus through his passion and death to his resurrection.

Salome’s story is about remembering and forgetting. She remembers her friendship with Mary growing up in Nazareth. She remembers it falling apart after the angel’s visit, and being rediscovered after Mary, Joseph and Jesus returned from Egypt. She remembers how she initially followed Jesus for Mary’s sake, until his words touched her and she begins to follow for herself.

She remembers how, when they hear of Jesus’ arrest, they follow him to his trial and passion. She tells us that, with breaking hearts and dying hopes, they keep vigil at the cross while he dies.

Salome also knows what it feels like to be forgotten. She repeatedly reminds Peter and the other disciples that not all of Jesus’ followers ran away at his arrest. She admits that this might have been habit as much as virtue:

“It’s what I’ve always done. When disaster strikes and I don’t know what to do, I do what I normally do – day in, day out – until the moment comes when I do know what to do again. So, when we heard, when it felt as though the world was collapsing around us, we did what we’d been doing for the past few years. We followed him.”

When we come to the cross on Good Friday we are invited to remember the marginal. We are called to stand with those society rejects, ignores, and pushes aside. We are challenged to become one with them in Christ.

The cross also invites us to bring those parts of ourselves that we reject and ignore. We are called to bring them to the cross, to be welcomed into Jesus’ gaze of “pure love”.

As you stand before the cross this Good Friday where do you need to feel the pure love of Christ your life?
You can hear Salome’s story here:

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Gospel Holy Week Lectio Divina Lent Scripture

Whispers on the wind

Image © Ally Barrett (www.reverendally.org) and used by permission

BACKGROUND READING MARK 11: 27 – 12:34 OR
MARK 12: 28-34

Sarah, the wife of Jacob, a priest, has also travelled from her home in Sephorris. She makes the journey three times a year to celebrate the major festivals.

She hears about him first from Miriam, a neighbour from home that she bumps into in the busy streets of the city. She surprised and intrigued by how her practical and down to earth neighbour is carried away by a brief encounter with the strange man. It’s so noisy in the crowd that she doesn’t even get the whole story, just snatches here and there before the crowd forces them apart:

“On the air, I just heard “steadfast love” and “forever”. And then she was gone.”

Later, she’s surprised to hear her husband speak of the same person. After his priestly duties were done, he had spent time doing what he loved best, discussing the Law. Sarah is not surprised by the answer her husband gets to his question about the greatest commandment, it’s what they both already knew:

“First you love God; second you love your neighbour. Together they are the most important commandment all rolled into one.”

It’s her husband’s description of how Jesus said it that is transformative for her, and for him:

“Like it was a truth to be lived. Love God; love your neighbour…. And looking at him, I knew he lived it with all his heart and soul and mind and strength.”

Sarah’s story has reminded me that the faith of those close to us can transform and enrich our own faith in surprising and transformative ways.

How is your faith being enriched by the experiences of those around you this Holy Week?

You can listen to Paula Gooder read Sarah’s story here:

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Divine Office Gospel Holy Week Lectio Divina Lent Liturgy Palm Sunday Scripture Uncategorized

The call of steadfast love.

© Ally Barrett (www.reverendally.org) and used by permission

BACKGROUND READING: PSALM 118 AND MARK 11:1-11

The first woman of Holy Week is Miriam. She is practical and down to earth. She doesn’t like living under Roman occupation but realises that her family’s well-being relies on her finding a way to live with it. She lives in Sephorris where she and her family make a good living as fish traders. They have travelled to Jerusalem to celebrate the festival.

She comes to this festival with mixed feelings. She loves the sense of togetherness and hope that the festival brings, but hates the jostling and disagreements that come with being part of a large and excited crowd.

A woman of deep faith she lives with the hope and expectation that the Messiah will come and set her people free. As she walks with the rest of the crowd she carries the image of the Messiah, weary, exhausted and quietly triumphant, riding towards Jerusalem. She puts her whole heart and soul into singing:

“Oh give thanks to the Lord, for he is good: his steadfast love endures for ever.”

Then she sees a surprising sight. Two people bring a donkey and a man got onto it, riding it she says “just like I always imagined the King would have done – except that it was a donkey and not that impressive”.

A little impatient with the gesture she initially him as another “wannabe Messiah”. Something in the man’s demeanour compels her to look again. It’s then that she sees past the externals and recognises the Messiah at the centre of this unlikely scene.

Where is Christ calling you to recognise his steadfast love in unexpected places this Holy Week?

You can listen to Paula Gooder read Miriam’s story here:

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Divine Office Gospel Holy Week Lectio Divina Lent Palm Sunday Prophetic voices Psalms Scripture Uncategorized

Women of Holy Week

Photo by Rebecca Peterson-Hall on unsplash.com

From Palm Sunday I’ll be using Paula Gooder’s book “Women of Holy Week” as the basis of my prayer. They tell the stories of ordinary women, some we know from the gospels, though their stories are not elaborated there. Others are not mentioned in the gospel, but it’s possible that someone like them was there in the crowd.

All of their lives were touched and changed, either by encountering Jesus on his journey through Holy Week and Easter or by hearing about him. from others. I will include a link to Paula’s audio reflection at the end of each day’s post.

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Divine Office Holy Saturday Holy Week Lectio Divina Lent Liturgy Scripture Triduum

In the empty spaces.

Photo by Anton Maksimov on unsplash.com

The 46th word in my Lent lexicon is:

EMPTINESS.

After the high drama of Good Friday People often talk of holy Saturday as a “tomb day”, a time to sit with the emptiness that follows death, to allow the events of Good Friday to sink in. I recognise the yearning for that and its wisdom yet, it’s not an experience I recognise from monastic life.

In practice for many of us Holy Saturday is very much a hybrid day, we are aware of its emptiness, the mourning and the uncertainty. We also have to acknowledge that the Easter vigil is fast approaching and that Easter liturgies and treats do not plan themselves. So it is also a day of preparation and anticipation that can be very busy.

As we move through this hybrid day I’m reflecting on these words from the lamentations of the prophet Jeremiah from this morning’s Office of Readings:

“The favours of the Lord are not all past, nor his kindnesses exhausted; every morning they are renewed: great is his faithfulness. My portion is with the Lord says my soul, and so I will hope in him.”

Even in the midst of his lamentation Jeremiah is able to acknowledge the kindness and faithfulness of God, and to put his hope in that. His words speak to me of the hybrid reality of the day.

It seems to me that the emptiness of Holy Saturday calls us to imitate God’s kindness to others as we get on with the many preparations for Easter, and to ourselves as we seek small moments of quiet during the day.

In the emptiness of Holy Saturday where are you aware of the Lord renewing your capacity for kindness?

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Divine Office Good Friday Holy Week Lectio Divina Lent Liturgy Scripture Triduum

Hope in a dark place

The 45th word in my Lent lexicon is:

DEATH.

Image ©Turvey Abbey

In many ways it sums up the essence of Good Friday, the day compels us to look death in the face with all the pain and suffering that brings. At Office of Readings on Good Friday we sing the Lamentations of the Jeremiah. This morning I was struck by their opening lines:

“All of you who pass this way, look and see, is any sorrow like the sorrow that afflicts me?”

It perfectly sums up Good Friday, especially in such hard and uncertain times when we all carry so much suffering and when our society often seems determined to choose death over life. In such times the cross is the only place that can hold our suffering and our fear of death.

Yet, in Lauds I found the Lamentations were given a new and broader perspective by these verses from the Byzantine liturgy:

“How can you die, Christ our Life?
How can you lie in the tomb?
By your death you will destroy the power of death,
And you will raise the dead from their tombs.”

They echo the heart breaking sorrow of Jeremiah, giving us a place to acknowledge our own heartbreak and suffering. Yet, they also carry us beyond that. They point out that our faith doesn’t stop at the cross. The cruel death of the Cross is a staging post on our journey to new life in the resurrection.

They remind us that the Christ who lay in the tomb is already risen. He is with us in the sufferings and uncertainties of our times and will lead us through that to the new life that his resurrection promises.

As we face death before the cross this Good Friday where are you inspired by the hope of the new life Christ promises?

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Gospel Holy Week Lectio Divina Lent Maundy Thursday Scripture Triduum

A new commandment

The 44th word in my Lent lexicon is:

LOVE.

Image © Turvey Abbey

It’s the second time this word has made an appearance in my lexicon, but it seemed worth revisiting. Listening to Paula Gooder’s reflection on the women of Holy Week I was touched Susanna’s words to the other women after Jesus and the disciples head to Gethsemane, leaving a sense of dread behind them:

“That’s the problem with extravagant love, it brings with it extravagant heartbreak.”

Her words seem sum up all everything this Holy Week journey, and indeed the whole gospel is about, the call to love with all its delights and costliness.

This love is symbolised on Maundy Thursday by Jesus washing his disciples’ feet. It’s an act of love, service and fellowship that touches my heart every year. It recalls the thousands of services we are called to perform for each other every day. Its simplicity and practicality encapsulates everything from loading the dishwasher to listening to and supporting the broken hearted.

As we carry out the action in our liturgy we hear these words from John’s Gospel:

“I give you a new commandment: that you love one another just as I have loved you.”

Jesus’ love is complete and wholehearted. It takes a clear-sighted view of his disciples, seeing all their faults and still loving them. It’s extravagant and generous. It calls us to love in the same way, both accepting and giving love wholeheartedly and extravagantly.

It seems to me that those are equally challenging. As we begin to celebrate the Triduum I am aware of how much our broken hearted world world needs that transforming, extravagant love.

Where are you called to accept the extravagant, heart breaking love of Christ this Holy Week?

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Gospel Holy Week Lectio Divina Lent Scripture

Facing betrayal.

Photo by Fares Hamouche on unsplash.com

The 43rd word in my Lent lexicon is:

BETRAYAL.

Even writing it I’m aware that it’s a harsh and unforgiving word. Yet, reading today’s gospel it’s hard to find any other word to describe what goes on. Judas, for whatever reason, has come to the conclusion that he will betray Jesus to the authorities. Once again, Jesus shows that he is fully aware of what is going on and of where it will lead:

“He said ‘I tell you solemnly, one of you is about to betray me.’”

It’s easy to identify with Jesus in this passage. We all know how it feels to be betrayed, we know the hurt, disappointment and heartbreak that it brings. We know it shatters lives and relationships.

It’s easy to identify with the disciples, indignant at the suggestion that this could be any of them as they chorus their:

“Not I, Lord, surely?”

Any of us have ever been mistakenly accused of anything can understand the indignation and heart that they must have felt.

It is much harder to identify with Judas, the betrayer. It’s so tempting to put him on the outside, to make him a scapegoat for all our own faults. It’s easy to tell ourselves that we would never have acted as he did. But if we are honest we have to acknowledge that in the course of our lives we too betray both Christ and ourselves.

So this hard gospel, and this hard word holds a mirror up to us. It asks us both to acknowledge the times we have been betrayed, and the times we have been the betrayer.

What mirror is Christ challenging you to look into this Holy Week?

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Benedictine Spirituality Christ Cross Gospel Holy Week Lectio Divina Lent Scripture

Glory revealed.

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The 42nd word in my Lent lexicon is:

GLORY.

Glory is not necessarily the first word that would come to mind when we think in the darkness, fear and betrayal that mark Holy Week. In today’s gospel, as Jesus celebrates the Last Supper with his disciples, Judas prepares to betray him. Jesus is fully aware of this, and indeed tells him to get on with it.

It seems that already Jesus has a clear idea of where all this is heading, even if his disciples are still in the dark. We certainly are all too familiar with where this all leads, and there is very little in it that speaks to us of any human understanding of what glory might mean:

“Now has the Son of Man been glorified, and in him God has been glorified. If God has been glorified in him, God will in turn glorify him in himself, and will glorify him very soon.”

He calls us to look again at “GLORY”, and at what true glory might actually mean. It couldn’t be clearer that it doesn’t mean anything we might recognise. It’s not connected to fame, wealth, recognition or celebrity or anything else our culture might recognise as glory.

The glory he speaks of can only come from one source, a wholehearted commitment to doing the will of the Father. As we move through Holy Week It becomes more and more obvious that Jesus has made that commitment. We know what that looks like for him. In calling us to follow him he invites us to us to discover what that would look like in our own lives and to make the same commitment.

Where are you being called to glorify God in your life this Holy Week?