Holy Week

The word “holy” gets attached to a lot of things in the church. We speak of Holy Communion, Holy Baptism, the Holy Bible, a Holy Cross, and the week leading up to our celebration of Easter as Holy Week. My personal definition of those things that we consider to be “holy” is that they are ordinary, imperfect, and sometimes painful things that God uses to bless the world. God’s use makes them holy.

As a pastor I have had the honor to be with many people as they breathed their last breath. Those are “holy” moments because what was begun in baptism is brought to completion as the promise of eternal life is brought to fruition.

The events of this week include a parade, a meal with friends, foot washing, suffering, and death. These are holy moments in which God is at work and we are invited to participate. 

John 12:12-26

Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. (John 12:24 NRSV)

Unless. Throughout these weeks of Lent, we’ve been reflecting on those things in life that need to die and be buried so that something new might arise. Unless we bury greed, we cannot live a life of generosity. Unless we bury indifference, compassion and care cannot blossom. Unless we bury distraction, we cannot create necessary space for an encounter with God and neighbor. Unless we bury wastefulness, we cannot foster a life of faithful stewardship. Unless we bury judgment, we will never be open to the transforming power of the grace of God. 

This week we enter into the central mystery of the Christian faith: there is no resurrection unless we die. The path to new life always leads us through pain, suffering, and death. Holy Week teaches us how to die.

One of the most difficult moments for any parent is that moment when you realize that all of the hopes and dreams that you have for your children are just that, yours. If you would have asked me to describe the future I envisioned for my boys when they were little, I guarantee that it would have looked nothing like the path that they are each traveling right now. It wasn’t until my vision for their future died that I could begin to appreciate and cherish what God is doing in their lives. This is a process that has not been without pain, mind you. But with my personal plans out of the way, I’m remarkably free to entrust them to the One who claimed them in the waters of baptism and marked them with the cross of Christ forever. That freedom is helping me to rejoice.