A Holy Week

I have enjoyed attending worship at our sister Presbyterian congregations during this Holy Week. Of course, we are not all alike. We have medium sized congregations and small congregations. (None of us are what you would call a large church when calculated by the numbers.) We have male preachers and female preachers. We have high church and low church. And I’m certain we come to faith from a variety of perspectives. But the central point is we all can worship together.

            One quick aside: Seneca Presbyterian where I serve was founded in 1875. I discovered this week that we are the “baby” in this flock. Four other churches were founded even before us. That’s an amazing fact when you realize Presbyterians have been worshiping in Oconee County, South Carolina for over 200 years.

            As I contemplated this week, I did begin to wonder about our tradition. Some might think it excessive to worship every night of the same week. Six services in all, if you make them all. (I often miss Good Friday because I’m writing a sermon for Easter Sunday. I know – “Shame on me!”) Then I realized when Jews gather for their High Holy Days, their spiritual disciplines include seeking reconciliation with others whom they have wronged – not just in prayer, but in action, face to face, up close and personal. When Muslims observe Ramadan, they fast during daylight hours – for up to 30 days. Christians simply “go to church.” 

            That’s why I’m grateful we at Seneca Presbyterian Church took our week a baby step further. We have adopted the ancient custom of praying through the night of Maundy Thursday and into Good Friday. Jesus asked his disciples to keep vigil with him as he prayed, but they fell asleep. With the help of 18 faithful disciples (and others who kept watch for them as they prayed), we kept the vigil unbroken. We lifted up prayers for our church family and beyond our church family. We offered up our own prayers. In the quiet of a sanctuary illuminated by candles, we sought to both feel and understand what Jesus knew as he often kept an all night vigil in prayer.

            Spiritual practices are actions that help mold us into becoming the disciples of Christ we are called to be. Going to church is one of them. So is praying. So is fasting. So is seeking reconciliation with others. May this Holy Week deepen our practice of faith as we encounter once again the power of sin and the hope of resurrected life. 

            Oh – there is still one last practice you are invited to share. Join us for our sunrise worship service at 6:30 a.m. Easter morning. We will kindle the new fire and follow the light of the Risen Christ in joyful celebration. Then we will indulge in one more spiritual practice: feasting at our Easter Sunday fellowship breakfast. Everyone come!

High Holy Days

Holy Week begins on Sunday. These eight days between Palm Sunday and Easter are the High Holy Days for Christians. Whereas Jews come together for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, and Muslims come together for Ramadan, Christians gather for Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday. Some even gather for the days in-between too.

          The overarching story we tell in our High Holy Days is the heart of our faith. Even though there are many ways to interpret it – something you would expect from a story that carries with it such profound meaning and power – Christians all affirm that through the death, resurrection, and ultimate ascension of Jesus (forty days after Easter), the power of sin in our world has been broken, death as the final enemy has been conquered, and new life, re-born life, is the consequence for us and for the world.

          Throughout this week, we traditionally tell – and re-live – the many stories that make up the larger one. We remember how Jesus presented himself as a king on Palm Sunday, and we ponder just what his kingship means. We remember how Mary of Bethany anointed Jesus, preparing for his death, and we marvel at her faithfulness. We remember how Judas, one of his closest disciples and friends, betrayed him, and we wonder how our lives betray him as well.

On Thursday of Holy Week, we tell the story of how Jesus' Last Supper became our holy sacrament, because it carries within it the power of sacrificial life and love. On Friday, we watch as once again the Son of God gives up his life for our sakes and for the salvation of the world. And then on Saturday, we watch and wait. Many Christians fast on this day – or even from Maundy Thursday until Easter dawn. It is a way of saying the story that begins in earnest on Thursday continues on through Sunday. When the world destroys goodness, and we are that world, God will give it back – full of power to make us new.

Our Holy Week concludes eight days after it begins. God created the world in seven days – and then recreates it in eight. The Eighth Day is the first day of the new creation. That is what we believe as Christians and it is how we are to live our lives – even if the world does not appear any different than before. God will fulfill that new creation in God’s way and in God’s time. In the meantime, we claim the power of new creation in our lives and seek to live that life in God’s ever-renewing world.

          Prayers and opportunities for worship mark these days for Christians. I am glad that at Seneca Presbyterian Church, we have the opportunity to worship every evening throughout this Holy Week. It is a tradition among Presbyterians in Oconee County, South Carolina that has been around for decades. We gather in a different church each night, and together mark the time from one celebration to another. Those opportunities for worship are posted in this blog under the page marked “Holy Week.”

At Seneca Pres, we are adding a Prayer Vigil that will begin on Thursday evening and continue through Friday afternoon. Individuals have committed to be present in our sanctuary for prayer during each of these hours. If you have prayer concerns you wish to share, you may email them to senecachurch@bellsouth.net. We will add them to ours and lift them up to God.

          Yet not everyone can keep this discipline of Holy Week worship. So as we gather for worship this Sunday at Seneca Presbyterian, we will tell two stories. We will start at the beginning with Palm Sunday, but we won’t leave it there. We will also tell the story of Passion. That is so we don’t forget what comes between the Sundays. For these are our High Holy Days and the heart of what we believe. Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again. Hallelujah. Amen.

Jericho Jubilations

As we gather for worship at Seneca Presbyterian Church this coming Sunday, the Sunday before Palm Sunday, the Narrative Lectionary text that will greet us is more a triptych than a single painting. Check out Luke 18:31-19:10 and you will find three pericopes (as they are called in seminary) combined into one.

First, Jesus offers his third and final passion prediction to the twelve, namely the disciples who are in his inner circle. It is a prediction full of dire warnings about betrayal, violence, brutality, death – and rising. But the twelve just don’t get it.

          Then Jesus encounters a blind man as he enters the city of Jericho. Mark tells the same story and gives the blind man a name. He is Bartimaeus. The contrast is a bit obvious. The twelve disciples who have traveled with Jesus for three years don’t understand what he is trying to tell them about the events that are about to unfold in Jerusalem. But a blind man hidden in a crowd in the city of Jericho recognizes Jesus and calls out to him: Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me! Jesus hears him. He brings the crowd to a standstill, and offers Bartimaeus the most amazing gift imaginable: What do you want me to do for you?  “I want to see,” is the answer. And Jesus restores his sight.

The third story is the one you came to know as a child. It’s the story of the short, nimble, very rich, and determined tax collector named Zacchaeus. He’s the one who gets to host Jesus for dinner. It’s a meal that changes his life forever. The very rich tax collector becomes the very generous philanthropist. He gives away half of what he owns and promises to repay fourfold anyone whom he has defrauded.

          When we as faithful seekers to explore these three stories, we found ourselves wondering, questioning, and challenging each other about the people in them.

• How did the disciples not understand what Jesus was trying to tell them? If they had, what would have been different? Would they have fled far sooner?
• How could a blind beggar ever know about Jesus? Was his faith based on hearsay and the hope against hope that this One could heal? What was there to lose in the trying? Or in his physical blindness, could he truly recognize the hand of God?
• Who would Zacchaeus be today? Was he really a crook? Or was he an honest man who happened to be successful? Why did Jesus choose him?

 Where do you find yourself in these stories? Is it with the disciples, the blind man, the rich tax collector, or the crowd? Is it the grumbling, inhibiting, controlling, judging crowd? Or is it the crowd that praises God?

          Let me know what you think. And then join us for worship on this Sunday before Palm Sunday where we will explore some more, and praise God.

Bridging the Chasm

This Sunday, as we gather for worship at Seneca Presbyterian Church, the challenge before us will be trying to find meaning for our own lives in the Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus.  It is one of the most difficult texts in all scripture, and one of the most significant parables told by Jesus. Why? The difficulty comes from the powerful and unequivocal use of Luke’s theme of the great reversal.

A rich man enjoys life on earth, but ignores Lazarus who sits in desperate need at his very gate. In death, their situations are reversed. Lazarus is welcomed into the warm embrace of Father Abraham; the rich man suffers agony in Hades. When he asks for mercy – simply the hint of water to cool his tongue – he is refused forever. Why? The Rich Man had his chance at the good life in life. Now it’s Lazarus’ turn.

Mary said it would happen when she rejoiced with Elizabeth in the coming of Jesus into the world. The mighty are cast down and the poor are lifted up. The hungry are fed and the rich go away empty. We love those images when sung in the poetry of the Magnificat, but when we see the reality lived out, it’s not so easy. Especially when we have to admit if we were called to take on roles in the parable, few of us would be qualified to play Lazarus.

            Where is the focus of the parable? It is on the rich man and the dangers of wealth? Anyone who listens to Luke with any degree of attention knows that it is. In his beatitudes, Luke has an uncanny habit of leaving off important phrases – like saying “blessed are the poor” without adding “in spirit.” Then he has the audacity to say: “Woe to you who are rich, for have received your consolation.”  (Luke 6:24)

            But isn’t the parable also about Lazarus and his need? Can we avoid the terrifying fate of the rich man by simply stopping and helping? That was a question that occupied the conversation as our faithful seekers gathered this past week. Yet inevitably the question became: how much? How much did the rich man have to give in order to successfully pass the test? Would the crumbs have been sufficient? Or does Jesus look for more? Just how much are we expected to give of our own wealth for the sake of those in need? Do we have to give until it hurts in order to be worthy of meeting Father Abraham?

            This parable is one of those texts that can only be approached with fear and trembling, for it cannot be tied up neatly with a simple “go and do likewise.” That dilemma makes our challenge all the more real. For you see, when Jesus gives Lazarus a name – something no other parable can claim – he is marking this one with a gold star. He’s highlighting it in big, bold type. He’s telling us: Pay attention. Listen well with your mind and with your heart. It’s a matter of life and death – eternal life and death – for Lazarus and for us.

            As we gather to worship God this Sunday, in the presence of the Spirit, we shall do our best to listen to Jesus. We will try to see the reality of our world, the humanity of the one in need, and the challenge of how to truly love.