I Couldn’t See The Lamb A Reflection on Holy Week 2022

This article is take from the Newsletter for the Diocese of Western North Carolina and is by one of our parishioners, Donna Logan

A few weeks prior to Holy Week 2022 my deacon said she hoped I planned to attend some of the services for that special week because she felt I would appreciate them. She probably knows me better than anyone else in the church because of her insightfulness and her way of understanding people. Since I was relatively new to the Episcopal Church, she explained that Maundy Thursday would probably be especially meaningful to me because of the powerful message it would bring.

Now I knew what Maundy Thursday meant. It is the day that commemorates the last supper, the washing of feet that reminds us of Jesus’ impending death and his willingness to serve all. From my childhood and even into adulthood, Maundy Thursday had been casually mentioned, but there had never been much celebration or devotion to the significance of that day. I never really gave it that much thought. Oh boy, that was about to change for me forever.

Just before Holy Week, my youngest grandson, age 4, had been diagnosed with Doose syndrome. This is described on the internet as “a catastrophic form of epilepsy”. It is horrible. Look it up for more information, if you care to. We were worried and scared and I was overly anxious about him and what his future would hold. He had been added to our church prayer list and all my church family had him covered in prayer and knew what was going on. I arrived at the Maundy Thursday service alone since hubby had to work late that day. It had been a particularly rough week for my precious grandson. I sat alone and was just really in a somber mood.

Then the service began, and it was absolutely beautiful. If you have ever had the privilege to visit Redeemer Church, you know of the beautiful stained glass windows. In particular, the lamb that is above the altar area in the front part of the church. Quite often, I find myself just staring at the lamb in thought or reflection. This night was no different. The sun was setting and the sanctuary was growing darker.

As the altar guild members began to strip the altar and remove everything, tears filled my eyes. Then when one of the ladies came out and even removed the hymn numbers on the boards I was so overwhelmed I looked up to find comfort in the lamb………THE LAMB. It was gone, it was dark, it was quiet. Slowly and without notice of others, I think, I began to look around at the other windows. Had I been mistaken? Was the Lamb somewhere else? Was I in a different place? I couldn't see the lamb. I COULD NOT SEE THE LAMB.

After the service, I left the church quietly and in tears. All the way home on my 30-minute route, I thought deeply and hard and tearfully about this. Is this what it would be like without Christ? What if He hadn’t risen? Would there always be a dark spot in my life and the life of others? Would we live our lives in darkness? In darkness without the Lamb? As hard as it was, I am so thankful I had this Maundy Thursday experience. It was something I will never forget and always cherish. But most importantly, I am so glad I can see the Lamb.

Donna Logan Redeemer Church Shelby, NC

Huh? What are all these services about?

A couple of people have asked what on earth all these services are about during Holy Week. It is a good question and, my guess is, for those who have asked, there are quite a few more who have the same question

PALM SUNDAY

Last Sunday we celebrated Palm Sunday. We remembered Jesus' entry into Jerusalem and we read the whole of Matthew's account of the Passion. This is not meant to replace Holy Week. I prefer to think of it as more of a movie trailer, inviting us to enter into a deeper experience of the story.

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MAUNDY THURSDAY

Each of the days of Holy Week counts as a big day in the Church calendar but the next one which we pay a lot of attention to is Maundy Thursday.

Maundy Thursday has a lot of story attached to it. We begin with a party atmosphere as Jesus has supper with his Disciples. We know this as "The Last Supper" but the Disciples did not know this and the atmosphere was one of a party. The hangings in Church go to white - the color we use for celebration.

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During this part of the service we remember how Jesus washed his Disciples feet - showing them the way of humility and servanthood. Some like to wash each others feet during the service, others prefer to sit out, it is a personal choice but we take time to remember Jesus command to do as He has done.

We move to the Table and celebrate the Eucharist with extra poingnancy as we remember this is the night that Jesus took bread and wine. Offered, blessed and broke them. Shared them with his friends and commanded them to do the same.

All too soon we are moving into darkness as, first Judas, and then Jesus and the Disciples head out into the night. The agonising road to the Cross has begun. In Church the Altar and its surrounds are gradually stripped down of their adornments to bare wood.

The only thing which remains is concecrated bread which is taken to the side altar. This represents the Garden of Gethsemane and is called the "Altar of Repose" We then begin to spend a long night watching with Jesus. Remembering His words to the Disciples - "Could you not watch with me one hour?". Unlike some places, the Church is not open to come and go, rather we stream an image of the one remaining light in Church, the one which accompanies the Blessed Sacrament (the consecrated bread).

We leave in silence without a blessing or dismissal - that will not happen again until Easter Day. The services of these days are a continuum.

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GOOD FRIDAY

The basic story of Good Friday is well known. Its meaning is endless. We offer two services. The first is the "Liturgy of the Day". This service is offered on Good Friday Evening in many places, for convenience for those who work. It rightly belongs in the hour before we are told Jesus dies- midday.

The service is straight from the Prayer Book and consists of readings, prayers and a chance to kneel at the cross as part of our entering into the story. Towards the end of the service there is the option to receive Communion from the bread which we saved from last night. Not everyone chooses to do this. At the end of the service all the leftover bread is consumed and we are in an empty and stark Church. This is the only time of the year when there is not consecrated bread (reserve sacrament) in the Church. The candle which represents the presence of Christ in the Sacrament is extinguished.

Into this silence at noon we bring the Stations of the Cross. This is a reflective service, looking back on Jesus' last journey uses the 14 "Stations" which we have in the Church. These pictures each depict a point upon the journey. Beginning with Jesus' condemnation and finishing with His being put into the tomb. As this service ends a deeper silence enters the Church.

When these services are earlier in the day we have more time to enter into and to observe where we are. To take notice of what has happened and to allow the silence. If you cannot be in Church we will be streaming the 11am service and you will find the recordings online.

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EASTER VIGIL

This service is in two parts. The first is a set of nine readings tracing God's story with the Chosen People of Israel through the Old Testament. The stories are of hope and promise. Some see them literally, others take them as expressions of experience of God by our ancestors in faith.

These are family stories and they are told around a fire - rather like your family or friends might tell stories around a campfire or on a cool evening sitting around a fire in the backyard.

Then we extinguish the fire of the old and move towards the Church where the Easter Fire is waiting. The new fire of new life. The fire is blessed as a symbol of new life and promise and the Paschal (Easter) candle is lit from it. The Candle is then carried into Church. Every candle in the building is lit from this one candle. The ones you hold, the ones on the altar and, finally, the candle which burns by the Reserve Sacrament. The light of Christ spread from our Risen Lord to each of us like fire. We see again, we are joyful again.

A special chant, the Exsultetm is sung, rememinding us of the story of this night.

After this the service becomes more familiar. Readings, hymns, prayers and a celebration of the Eucharist.

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EASTER DAY

Easterr Day is a celebration but, in some ways, more reflective than the light and movement of the Vigil. We switch to the Gospel of John, to the encounter of Mary Magdalene with Jesus in the Garden.

The moment of joyous acclaim invies us to a sense of wonder, but also to a pondering of what this mean to us. How we respond to this gift. Who we are in the story.

I hope this gives a good outline of what we are doing over the next few days. There are books and books written about these days. There are other variations on how and when to do these services - you may have seen them done differently elsewhere. Do join us for as much as you can. Do spend some time pondering these mysteries and finding your place in them. At Easter, wherever we have been, however the stories of our lives are messy and fractured, we are given new life and invited to embrace new hope. I hope to see you over the next few days.

Caroline+

Redemption: A Narrative of Mary Magdalene

This is the third of three reflections for Holy Week

A reflection for Holy Week by Lucinda MacArthur

I stumbled over the uneven ground in the darkness. It was still early, but I wanted, needed, to reach the tomb. I needed to be with my Lord, even if it was with just His body. The air was cool and there was a breeze. It promised to be a beautiful day. But what does it matter? My Lord is dead. He said it Himself, “It is finished.” My fists clenched in anguish as my steps grew faster. What does that even mean?

The numbness that had set in the evening after the crucifixion had rested heavily on all of us all through the Sabbath. We had gone about our day as if in a trance, caring for Mary and

occupying ourselves with mindless tasks. Disbelief, shock, and grief rose up around us as our

thoughts kept replaying the events of Friday over and over in our minds. I had slept fitfully,

waking early in the predawn darkness afraid and alone. What do we do now? There had always been Jesus and now He was dead. Hope was dead. Our lives as we knew them were over...

Sadness overtook me as I ran through the early dawn and the tears I had held at bay while

around the others began to course down my face. What began as a trickle became a torrent as I ran faster and faster, my breath coming in uneven hiccups, all of my sorrow pouring out of my aching heart. Reaching the garden, I made my way through the garden in the growing dawn, looking for the landmarks I had remembered Friday evening. As I came to where I thought it should be, frustration turned to alarm as I realized that the tomb in which we had placed Jesus was empty, the huge boulder put in place to seal it rolled out of place.

My heart constricted as I realized that His Body had been taken. Who would take Him? And

why? Anger and fear descended on me. I looked furtively around. Were they still here? My heart pounding, I turned and ran. I made my way back through the garden and towards the city. My mind raced as I came closer to the quarter where we lodged. What do I do now? I made my way to the disciples dwelling and arrived disheveled, breathlessly pounding on their door. Peter came to the door, his eyes re-rimmed and wary. He briefly opened the door, quickly pulling me inside. As I quickly told him of what I had seen, his brow furrowed and he called to the others and relayed to them what I had told him. He had no sooner finished before John brushed past me and burst through the door, taking off in the direction of the garden.

We did our best to follow him, our steps pounding on the city streets. Reaching the garden, we hurried to the tomb, where we found John, his body halfway in the tomb. “He’s gone. They’ve taken Him.” His gaze met Peter’s, the fear in their eyes unmistakable. We had seen His body laid in the tomb, We had seen the stone rolled into place. I had even placed the small bag of spices I had found in the street Friday evening, trampled and abandoned, next to his battered body. It wasn’t anywhere near enough to help, but it symbolized my feelings for Him. One final, heart-wrenching act of love. As the three of us peered in the cave, our thoughts were shrouded in confusion. If someone had taken Him, though, why were the grave clothes neatly folded? Why hadn’t they just taken Him, grave clothes and all? Surely, they had done it in a hurry?

John and Peter turned to go, dejected. Not only was Jesus dead, but they had even taken His

body. As they turned to go, John asked, “Are you coming with us?” I hesitated. Even though His body had been taken, I still felt an inexplicable closeness to Him here. I even heard the birdsong and was able to make out the beauty of the garden in the gathering light. “I think I’ll stay just a little longer. I need time to think.” Nodding, they turned to go. Left by myself, my thoughts drifted to Jesus. His smile, His kind eyes. He was so much more than a friend. He was... Again, tears threatened and in my exhaustion, I gave into them. In this beautiful place, on this beautiful day, I found myself sobbing as a small child who had lost her mother. The overflowing grief brought on by the last two days suddenly overwhelmed me and all at once I needed to raise my face to the heavens and scream, releasing all of the rage, fear, and agony that has besieged my heart since John had awoken me Friday morning.

Suddenly, my eyes were drawn to a slight movement across the path. A light emerged from the tomb that I had previously not noticed. A shiver fluttered down my spine. Perplexed and

somewhat fearful, I ventured over, peering slowly into the cave. I drew in my breath as my mind struggled to comprehend what my eyes were telling my mind they were seeing. There, right where, not ten minutes before we had seen the neatly folded grave clothes, sat two angelic beings. The angels looked somewhat amused and, their voices tinkling yet powerful, strong, yet comforting, said, “Woman, why are you crying?” I’m sure my mouth gaped open as words struggled to form themselves. Finally, I was able to murmur, “They’ve taken my Lord away and I don’t know where they’ve put Him.”

Suddenly their heads bowed and a faint rustling behind me caused me to turn. The gardener was there. He had startled me only slightly, but a chill began its way from my insides out to my limbs and I felt myself begin to tremble. His eyes were kind as he quietly asked me, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?” Tears dribbled down my face as my gaze met his, “Sir, if you have carried Him away, tell me where you have put Him and I will get Him”. My heart pounded within me. His eyes, full of compassion and something else I couldn’t quite place, met mine and a small smile gently spread itself across his face. I can see it in my mind's eye today as clearly as when it happened so long ago.

He blinked slowly and spoke, the word traveling through the air between us as if carried on a

zephyr. “Mary.”

I am with you always, to the very end of the age.

Matthew 27:20