Holy Week

When I was a kid- I remember Holy Week being a pretty big deal. I grew up in at the First Congregational Church in Guilford, Connecticut. I remember all the Catholics wandering with their little smudges on Ash Wednesday and listening to them talk about all the things they gave up for Lent. As for our church- we had Wednesday night Lenten Potluck suppers- I remember they were pretty fun. I loved all those potluck dinners, and we had them for Advent as well. I have very found memories of growing up in that church. I do remember one particular potluck, when we were told not to bring food- and then we were split up like the world's population for dinner. One family had a ritzy fancy dinner, 2-3 families had a picnic type meal and the rest of us were in "the third world" eating rice and apples. It was actually pretty fun in the third world- and it was a lesson I never forgot. But I digress- back to Holy Week...

Which started with an interdenominational Palm Sunday service on the Green. In New England communities- the town is placed around a big park called the Green. Every Palm Sunday, all the Congregationals, Catholics, Lutherans, Baptists, Methodists, Episcopalians, Presbyterians and whoever else wanted to come, would gather their palm branches and join together for a service to kick off Holy Week. When I was little, this is just how it was. All the Christians gathering together, worshipping Jesus, getting along just fine. As an adult, I'm pretty impressed with this whole gathering- because it's not something we see often enough. We just don't see the CHURCH gathering together to worship Jesus. Sigh.

On Maundy Thursday- I remember Dad would go to a special service, I never went- I don't really know why. Perhaps my parents thought I'd be bored. But I was a pretty inquisitive kid in regard to the whole "God thing" I probably would have enjoyed it. As long as I can remember, I wanted to know God. I remember sitting in my tiny little rocking chair, with my first grown-up Bible in my lap- reading it and wishing it made more sense to me. Wishing that God would talk to me. Sometimes, I still feel that way. Many times. Most of the time.

On Good Friday- we had special Sunday School. We were off school for Spring Break and so our church had a special Good Friday Sunday School session. It was pretty cool. I remember looking forward to it immensely.

On Dark Saturday- well, truth be told, this was pagan day all the way. I always woke up obscenely early because I was just dying to dye the Easter eggs (get it?) I miss doing that so much. I guess the artist in me just really enjoys that tradition. If my husband enjoyed hard boiled eggs, I'd still do it- but I can't eat them all myself. So no more eggs. Back then, Dad and I (who enjoyed weekly "art time" together) would get out the old olive green flower print vinyl tablecloth with the white fringe, the crayons and the PAAS kit and go to town.

On Easter Sunday we'd start with pagan traditions first. I'd be up obscenely early to hunt down all our artful eggs from the day before and get quite a bit of sugar in me to boot. We would enjoy cardamom braided bread that my dad would make and some hard boiled eggs for breakfast. Then I'd put on my Easter dress- usually a new one made by my mom, and off to church we would go. I always loved the Easter services- the hymns were my favorite. And for some reason, people always sang more loudly that day. Like they meant what they were singing. I don't know if it was because the hymns were familiar or if it was because there was a spirit of victory and joy in the air, whatever the reason- it was pretty powerful stuff. When I was old enough, I joined the junior choir and got to sing the special music as well. After church- we'd head off to visit family and I always enjoyed that too. Come to think of it- that church was a significant part of a happy childhood.

After we moved to Illinois (when I was in high school) Holy week changed in a big way. Our new church didn't really celebrate in the same way- just special-ish Palm Sunday and Easter Services. Usually, we had to make a 3 hour trek to some aunt's house and didn't even get to go to church on Easter- which made my dad pretty unhappy. This trend continued through college.

When I moved to North Carolina, the church I went to there really didn't make a big deal out of Palm Sunday. There was no Lent or "Holy Week"- but there was a special Easter Service with a big drama production. I was in charge of the drama team then, so Lent to me just meant more stress. I never liked most of our Easter productions- they were only ok. One was really good- and it actually offended some people so I felt like I had done my job. : ) But I really missed the lead up to Holy Week that I had as a child. It made that week set apart and special- and I still miss it a lot.

Here in Washington- well, our new church observes Holy Week- different traditions- but I'm glad they observe it. We went to the "Ticker Tape" service on Palm Sunday- which was quite an experience. The last part of the service was a worship service- and it's intention was to create the feel and atmosphere of Jesus's entrance into Jerusalem- one of ridiculous celebration. It was interesting on so many levels. As more paper than I could have imagined was shot out of confetti cannons (and apparently they misfired and only sent out half the confetti- dear me) people worshipped and tossed it in the air, children drown each other in it-and it was easy to get swept away in the moment. The phrase "extravagant worship" kept ringing in my head. I thought of the woman pouring perfume on the feet of Jesus. Why can't we always worship that extravagantly? (I think Heaven must be like that- of course, I think Heaven is going to be fabulous, sort of like the Cirque de Soleil, people making all kinds of art, figure skating, sychronized swimming and every kind of music in every kind of language imaginable. It'll be CRAZY FUN! and we'll be with God- Party on!) But, I digress... Meanwhile, back at the Palm Sunday service-when I was truly in worship- this celebration was an amazing thing, and when I got pulled out of the moment-I was still celebrating. I loved looking up to see thousands upon thousands of pieces of paper floating down toward me as I sang. I imagine that it was same kind of experience for the people there that day Jesus rode into town. Swept up in the moment, not knowing why they were celebrating, and certainly not knowing that within the week, Jesus would be murdered. Thankfully, we have hindsight- we know why and how it all went down- it makes it easy to celebrate. I must also mention, there was a couple of handfuls of confetti trapped in my clothes afterward- pretty funny.

Yesterday, Good Friday, we went to the Stations of the Cross at our church. I had never experienced that particular tradition. It was interesting. Our friend Jeff had mentioned commissioning artists to do the stations next year- and I think that's brilliant. I found it very powerful to see all the scripture pulled together to tell the story and I thought the questions at each prayer station were pointed and powerful- made me think. However, I would have liked it to have been more experiential. This tradition has the potential to be so incredibly powerful. Marty and I were talking and we thought it would be great if all the senses were involved, soft music playing, incense, communion set up so people could take it if they wanted to, places to sit and meditate at each station- and I think it would be so neat to see an artist's take on each particular station. Big stuff.

Today is Dark Saturday. And I sit and ponder the wonder of Easter. It's hard for me to be sad, because I know how the story ends. I try to remember what Jesus went through for me- the pain, the suffering, the sacrifice. I am unbelievably grateful. But yet, I cannot grieve or be melancholy- because God is so big and good and Jesus triumphed over evil and death...for me. Because He loves me. Even when I can't feel it or think He's forgotten me or I am going through a poopy time. He loves me. He died for me. He would have done it if it were just me. I can't do anything to make that up to Him except give Him what and who I am. Because that's what He did for me. It's amazing to me that it's enough. He is happy to give His sinless life for my sinful, full of mistakes and pain one. Wow. No kidding. Wow.

Tomorrow is Easter- I'm interested to see what service will be like. We don't have kids- so there will be no egg hunt, but my friend's 8 year old daughter is coming to spend the week with us so there is an easter basket with her name on it. Sadly, we'll have to duck out of service early to go fetch her at the airport. During service, we'll get to see the video that Marty, Jeff and Kent and the other guys have been working on- starring Marty. We watched it yesterday, it was quite good. It's odd to see your home on film. Our candlesticks are really crooked. After we pick up Bekah, we'll head to Jeff's for Easter dinner. It's nice to have people to celebrate with. I just pray in all the busy-ness of tomorrow- that the true meaning of Easter knocks us right between the eyes and in the heart. I think Marty and I could both use a dose of that love, revelation and victory that Jesus died for. Happy Easter.