My friends, we have arrived at the holiest week of our Church Year – why do I say that? If we were to compare it to the Advent and Christmas seasons which we could probably all agree are the happiest, most joy-filled seasons, due to the wishes of peace and goodwill along with the tendency in most to give to others, often in abundance, because our God, for Christians, at least, has given so abundantly in Jesus.

   So then comes Holy Week, and it is “holy,” even “holiest” for us because within one very special set of days, we remember and celebrate all that our brother Jesus has done in his life among us, as a servant, not a king, showing us a path to follow, should we so choose to.  And by the end of this holiest of weeks, we move into the “glorious” as our brother Jesus becomes all that he can be in “the Christ” in rising from the dead, the incompleteness of our human existence to the full splendor of resurrected life. 

   Now, for any of us to say that we fully understand what our faith calls us to this week, would be less than truthful, as it is something that we can only accept through the eyes of faith. More on that later.

   So, let us begin with today’s readings and a brief review of the rest of the week’s events so as to set the stage.  As with all of Scripture, this review and the reliving of the events of Holy Week will be most meaningful to us to the extent that you can put ourselves into the “heart” of the story—attempting to “feel” what the characters in each reading were experiencing—otherwise, they are just, “words on the page” with no relevance to our lives. 

   The prophet Isaiah announces quite clearly who the “messiah” will be—one who is “obedient” to God’s call, one who “will stand” for what is right.

   In Paul’s beautiful letter to the Philippians, our second reading today, that we will hear again on Good Friday, we “learn” how Jesus was indeed the fulfillment of Isaiah’s words— “he did not cling to his divinity, but emptied himself, becoming obedient.” 

    In our recent trip along the Rhine and Moselle rivers, stopping in Worms, pronounced, “Vorms,” we visited Martin Luther’s most significant “hangouts” we might say.  In a courtyard of the place he was tried, for, as the hierarchy stated, “high crimes against the faith,” there stands a statue of this man of faith.  There is a plaque also containing his words in defense of his ideas—basically, “If you can show me in Scripture the words that speak against my actions, then I will abide by those words. If not, then here I stand!” 

   Next to the statue and plaque is a replica Luther’s shoes, big enough for others, “to stand in” should they wish.  I took the opportunity to do so and was amazed with the emotion I felt in “standing with” this brother in the faith, in light of my own action in seeking ordination in a Church that continues to say that my action is “invalid.” It is important to remember that Luther didn’t start out to cause the Reformation—he simply wanted to discuss current practices within the Church that he saw as “falling short” of Jesus’ way and truth. 

   My friends, there is so much going on in our present-day Church and world that calls us to “stand firm” in our living out of the ways Jesus asked us to “be in our world.”  In the beginning I suggested that this week will be most meaningful to us if we can earnestly try and get connected with the real-life actors in this drama.

   Beginning with Jesus, if he were a musician, we would say that this upcoming week was “his opus” –the culmination of all he came to do with and among his human sisters and brothers.

   For those who remember Mr. Holland’s Opus, the best laid plans often don’t turn out as hoped. Glenn Holland, played wonderfully by Richard Dreyfuss, a high school music teacher, a “gig” as he originally called it, to make money “to live” while he wrote his opus, on the side, that would make him rich and famous.  Life played out differently for Mr. Holland, and he only discovered at the end, through the wisdom of a former student, that the “opus” he wrote was the day in and day out influence that he had upon the students that frequented his classes. 

   For our brother Jesus, it was much the same. As he entered triumphantly into Jerusalem amid shouts of joy and celebration, only to have the whole experiment of people being there for each other, each doing their best as he was demonstrating for them, to completely, as it seemed in real time, fall apart by Good Friday, had to be emotionally and spiritually devastating for Jesus and those who followed him – at least for a time. 

   We will see that in his humanity, he wept over the city Jerusalem and the people he had come to love because after three years giving them all that he had to give, they still “didn’t get it!”  They didn’t understand that his coming was about “servanthood” – caring for others, especially the least among us – women, children, the sick and the poor, and incidentally, these “least” did get it!  His life wasn’t about “kingship” – lording it over others, power and control.  And so, he wept in his humanity. 

   That same humanity, that he fully lived, would, as does ours at times, cause him to doubt that he could continue on as we see in his agony in the garden, “please dear God, if possible, take this cup from me,” and as he was dying on the cross, “My God, why have you forsaken me?”

   Jesus, our human brother, struggled between his human and divine natures as do we, to be all that was needed in his time and place. In the end, our human brother, one like us would give lip service to his heart’s desire that he would always do the bidding of his Abba – “not my will, but yours.”  The beauty in Jesus’ words here was not, and I repeat, was not that he gave up his life in reparation for sin, but more so, more so, out of his great love for all humanity – that each, and all would have a chance at justice and goodness within their lifetime.  That was why he had to die, because the powers that be, weren’t having it! 

   I recently read a small volume, entitled Serviceberry by the author of Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer, who speaks beautifully to the issue of “justice and goodness” in our world, something that each person has a right to she says.  The “serviceberry” or Juneberry, as well as other names, is as Kimmerer suggests a berry that gives and gives and gives.  People eat its sweetness and share with others as it grows so abundantly, birds eat it and scatter its seeds about, making more, and so it goes.  

   Kimmerer, as all good story-tellers do, Jesus among them, takes the example of the serviceberry to speak beautifully of what our world and I would add, our Church needs now:  Within our world, we need, “a gift economy” versus a “market economy.”  A gift economy is about making sure that the greatest to the least have what they need to live – that each can share in the goodness of life.  Market economies are about individuals getting more and more whether they need it or not.  Kimmerer minces no words when she says, and I paraphrase, people live in poverty, without enough housing, food and clothing – basic needs, because others have too much.  I am sure that this realization causes her to “weep” over humanity. 

   Within our Church hierarchy too, there is a dearth of leadership – prophets absent, too few who are willing to speak truth to power against those being misused and abused in our country today.  This week as we remember how our brother Jesus loved us to the end, willing to undergo the worst of deaths, let us pray for Church and world leaders who would do the same – risk “crucifixion” if need be, so that the whole truth can be heard. 

   As we walk through this holiest of weeks, let us remember the lessons of Holy Thursday, where in Jesus demonstrated servanthood in the washing of his disciples’ feet.  Let us be grateful for the gift of the Eucharist given as a way that we could have Jesus close, and then take that “closeness” out and share it in our world – ourselves becoming the “bread” that Jesus called “his body” for others. 

      Robert and I attended a “gran-friends” day at our grandson’s school on Friday (meant to include more than just grandparents, for those who didn’t have theirs nearby). It was a wonderful time seeing his classroom and all his activities and playing games. Being that it was at the Catholic school, part of our time included Mass, which was complete with the beautiful and angelic voices of children. 

   I was saddened though to hear the Mass being described in pre-Vatican II terminology, as the “Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.”  This language simply remembers Jesus’ death on the cross, which is not what the Mass is. His dying was something done once, and for all, and even though we know that Jesus continues to die symbolically in the suffering of others, that is not what the Mass is.  The Mass is an invitation to celebrate Jesus’ entire life, death and resurrection, all that he said and did and take those actions upon ourselves doing the same in our lives. The Mass calls each of us to become his “body and blood” in our world.

   On the eve before Jesus died, Holy Thursday, he prayed that “we all would be one,” thus the name of our church, and it was, we could say, his near, dying wish, so one has to wonder why the men ordained in our Church would be so miserly with our God’s love inviting some to receive the Eucharist, which in its best sense, is meant for all, and others to come and “get a blessing.”  I would encourage all ordained men to truly consider just what they are saying, and ask themselves if Jesus would do the same, one who took the “meal” to the hillside because all were not welcome in the synagogue. 

   My friends, much in this next week calls for “eyes of faith” to look at and accept, and our brother Jesus will help us if we ask.  May you all be richly blessed during this holiest of weeks!  Amen? Amen!