HOLY SATURDAY

Saturday, April 23

Job 19:21-27a

Psalms 27, 95, 88

Hebrews 4:1-16

Romans 8:1-11

Psalm 27

This passage has special meaning to me at this specific moment of my life as I, like many of you reading this, have recently lost my last surviving parent. Although I can intellectually rationalize this loss with the knowledge that she is free from distress and in a better place, it is nevertheless a life-changing event for me. No longer will I have her to talk to, share family stories, solicit advice and opinions as mothers and sons so often do. Even though we've not lived in the same city for over 30 years, I have trouble seeing how my life without her (and my father who passed over 25 years ago) will ever be the same. I've been wondering how I will keep this event from diminishing me as a person, a father, or a husband? You see, I mistakenly jump to the conclusion that I'm supposed to have all the answers and navigate myself through life's troubles. Verse 10 of this Psalm serves to remind me of the obvious answer. "When my father and mother are turned away from me, then the Lord will be my support." I'm reminded that this change in my life is a call to shine a light on my faith and dependency with the Lord. I know that the best way I can do this is through meditation and prayer on a consistent and frequent basis. The Psalm concludes with "Let your hope be in the Lord; take heart and be strong, yes, let your hope be in the Lord." Though I clearly want to stay in the lives of my family and take care of them here on earth right now, I have an desire to "have a place in the house of the Lord all the days of my life." The good news is that God has a place for all of us who seek his support and salvation. And in that time, I'm comforted by the fact that I will be reunited with my family and other loved ones for eternity in heaven. Here's to the acknowledgement that coping on earth with worldly tragedies is transient and only possible when we let our hope be in the Lord.

Doug Hart

GOOD FRIDAY

Friday, April 22

Genesis 22:1-14

Psalms 22, 40, 54, 95

1 Peter 1:10-20

John 13:36-38 or John 19:38-42

“Watch his eyes for the slightest movement.” (Ward Sister Northampton General Hospital 26 years ago this last Ash Wednesday).

³⁴ Instead, one of the soldiers pierced Jesus’ side with a spear, bringing a sudden flow of blood and water. John 19:34 (New International Version, ©2010)

We stood at the foot of the bed with David Williamson, the curate from our previous parish who had driven many miles over the past few days to be a God-given presence in our waiting. We watched as the tests for death were performed. The only one I remember is ice water injected into the ears. Nothing. After three days of total inactivity whilst on a respirator I am not sure that I really wanted to see any reaction.

One of the things which had kept me believing during those three days had been Abraham and Isaac walking up the hill. Those three days might not have been very strenuous activity but they had been a great effort. One of my spiritual mentors had reminded me of this story when I called to tell her about Matthew’s crib death and subsequent resuscitation. We had walked up the hill and now our son was on the altar, a little lamb would come and Matthew would be given back to us to nurture into adulthood.

No flicker of an eye, no twitch of a toe. Death was decreed on March 9^th 1985. The doctor and nurses thanked David and me for our consideration. Our consideration? I think for decorum in our grief. Our grief was no less because God, physically in the form of David Williamson, was with us. We still have ‘a gap’ called Matthew. Every time I read this episode in Genesis I am reminded of those three days - the expectation of the little lamb in the form of a flicker of an eye or the suckle of a nipple. After the gathering of the wood there was no little lamb for us on the mountaintop.

The grief is still with us in spite of the years and children since the days of struggle up the mountain and the test on the summit. But grief with God is not as empty as grief without him. So it is with the cross of Good Friday. It is a day of mourning with God.

Jane Brown

MAUNDY THURSDAY

Thursday, April 21

Jeremiah 20:7-11

Psalms 102, 142, 143

1 Corinthians 10:14-17, 11:27-32

John 17

In preparing to write this meditation, I started with a reading of the Psalms. They’re pretty grim, but no big surprise there. It is Maundy Thursday, and Jesus’ crucifixion is near. In all three Psalms, the author cries out to God, pleading for relief from persecution by enemies. Clearly, the psalmist has faith that God will come to his aid eventually, but God seems so very far away. Is He listening? Does He even know what’s happening to His faithful servant?

Similarly, things aren’t going too well for the prophet Jeremiah. He’s just been subjected to public humiliation, all for speaking out in God’s name. Jeremiah thought he was doing God’s will, spreading His message, but his enemies keep tormenting him. He’s confused and frustrated. He could always choose to no longer speak out, but that wouldn’t work. He knows he could not endure keeping silent. It would ultimately be more painful.

Just when I was starting to wish I had a different set of (less depressing) readings, I go to Chapter 17 of John’s Gospel. In it, we know Jesus sees the big picture. He accomplished what He was sent to do, but now “the hour has come.” He prays. However, instead of focusing on His enemies, He prays for the community of believers, those who have accepted God’s word and who have come to know the truth. Further, He prays for those who will become believers in the future and comments on their oneness with God.

It is this oneness we celebrate in the Eucharist. Over 2000 years after that Last Supper, Christians still commemorate Jesus’ sacrifice using bread and wine. The bread is broken for us. In 1 Corinthians, Paul writes, “Because there is one loaf, we, who are many, are one body, for we all share the one loaf” (NIV). For me, that is an uplifting message of unity and hope.

Evelyn Snow

WEDNESDAY OF HOLY WEEK

Wednesday, April 20

Jeremiah 17:5-10, 14-17

Psalms 55, 74

Philippians 4:1-13

John 12:27-36

Don't fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God's wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It's wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life. Phil 4:6-7

Worry? Me? I may mask it well, but I worry about almost everything. I love these comforting verses but have great difficulty living them. Through his letter to the Philippians, Paul reminds me that: God wants to make me whole, He wants me to trust Him to know that everything (not just ‘some’ things) come together for good, and He will come to me (even me) and calm me down. So with promises like that, why do I still worry? It’s certainly an easier way to deal with something, because worrying is what I have always done. It is also a control mechanism. I have tricked myself into a false sense of security in the outcome of things or events that I worry about. I believe that if I worry about something, then the negative outcome won’t happen. In essence, “I can control the outcome though worrying.” That is distorted reasoning. It lacks trust in, and prayer to, God. If you struggle with worrying, like I do, and if you struggle to trust God more, let us look to Christ to displace the worry and invite Him again and again into the center space of our lives. He is more than worthy to carry me (and you) through the challenges and frets of life. Thanks be to God.

Shari Watson

TUESDAY OF HOLY WEEK

Tuesday, April 19

Jeremiah 15:10-21
Psalms 6, 94
Philippians 3:15-21
John 12:20-26

But the Lord has become my fortress,

and my God the rock in whom I take refuge.

I am around young children on a daily basis, which can produce moments of hilarity, but just as frequently, moments of profound sadness. It is heartbreaking to hear the worries and troubles in their young lives. I see some of them coming to school hurting, sad, lonely, confused, angry, or lost. They have difficulty articulating the reasons for their feelings. They lean into you and hang on for dear life. School can be the one consistent experience in their day, with grown-ups who are present for them.

The rest of us, at times, are no less hurt, sad, lonely, confused, angry, or lost. As we mature, we have a greater capacity to understand our feelings, and also our faith. We come to the one consistent thing in our lives, our fortress, our God. We lean into Him, and hang on for dear life.

Joanne Polansky