Streams of Mercy
In her book From Advent’s Alleluia to Easter’s Morning Light, poet
Ann Weems writes:
“Where have the forty days of Lent gone?
We’ve had forty days to remember who Jesus is.
Forty days to find out who Jesus is.
Forty days to look and to listen to this man from Nazareth,
this man who walked into the hearts of the people,
this man who “stirred their imagination,”
this man who is still walking in to the hearts of his people,
still stirring the imagination of the people.
Holy Week is upon us.
We will raise our palms in joyful recognition!
We do know him. Surely we do know him. . . . “
The ways we experience Holy Week have changed through the years. When I was a little girl at First Presbyterian in Harlan, we had services each evening, journeying day by day with a real sense of walking with Jesus in his final days. At Rustburg Presbyterian, we had noonday services and luncheons with the whole community coming together day after day. I wonder if Tuesday is still Presbyterian Day, complete with that specialty chicken salad plate; I wonder if the men’s quartet from Appomattox Courthouse Presbyterian still sings “Lead Me to Calvary” on their day each year? In Laurinburg, too there were community noonday services, and in my time there, St. Mary’s “Stations of the Cross” on Good Friday was held in the church parking lot, inviting all to take part. I remember the blessing of carrying the cross from one station to another. One year we held noonday services in the downtown Storytelling and Arts Center on Main Street!
It seems Maundy Thursday Communion, with a Tenebrae Service of Shadows, and a sanctuary open for guided meditation on Good Friday represent the effort of most churches to mark the week. While we’re not to live “in the past” or to dwell on “former things” it’s a blessing to remember the richness of the Holy Week journey in days gone by, and to try in all the ways we can to make an intentional journey through the gathering darkness of this week to the cross. It’s a blessing to enter the silence and uncertainty and grief of Holy Saturday; It’s a blessing to greet the risen Savior on resurrection morning!
In her poem “Lost and Found” Ann Weems reminds us:
“As we approached Jerusalem
the crowd stood at the gate
and cried in tear-choked voice:
“We are lost in his death.”
Upon the hill the angels sang:
“We are found in his rising.”
Giving thanks for fresh new words for the Lenten/Easter Journey, for all that God has done for us in our Lord Jesus Christ, and for those streams of mercy, never ceasing.
Elizabeth