Beginnings of tales are very exciting. Endings are quite often lovely… or at least there’s some closure. But the middle is where the chaos ensues.
There is sometimes conflict and often disarray in the middle of stories… And projects… And, especially, the sacred assignment of Holy Week.
God of all focus and all chaos, Through the storms of life you create rainbows. Through the Big Bang, you created the universe. Through the many docs and tabs open on my computer, You create a meaningful Holy Week.
So we are in the middle of this story together. You will bring forth the energy I need, The fortitude to continue to journey on, The strength to work one more hour.
As the sun rises on Sunday, The Holy Week story comes to a conclusion, And a new chapter begins- For me, For us, For the Christ.
Divine Love, in this week of contemplation, may we remember the presentation of your love through the Christ. As we share in the breaking of the bread, may we recall the beautiful unity of Christ’s table. May the mandate of this day, to love our neighbors as ourselves, be etched into our souls. Widen our minds to see our neighbors from a new angle. Widen our hearts to serve as Jesus the Christ once served. Amen.
Communion
The communion liturgy keeps in mind a hybrid approach to worship this year. Some people may be in our presence, and others experiencing worship at home. This was adapted from last year’s “sheltering in place” communion liturgy.
Christ gave us the mandate to love one another. Christ gave us the peace that we will never be left alone. Christ gave us the picture that we are connected as vine and branches. Christ gave us the assurance that no one will take away our joy.
God is with you! God is with us all! Open wide our hearts. We open them to new possibilities. From here tonight to dining room tables, this is the time to give God our thanks and praise.
Jesus the Christ has created a realm of love for each of us- one in which we will be reunited with loved ones, one full of sacred memories, one in which we are assured of God’s comfort.
It was a night filled with teachings and memories. Undoubtedly, tears were shed and laughs raised. This was the night before Jesus died. Jesus took bread. As he blessed it and broke it, he said to his friends Whenever you eat this bread, eat in remembrance of me.
Later, Jesus blessed a cup filled with fruit of the vine. Friends, this is the new covenant. Drink this to remember me. Drink to remember our time together.
Spirit of God, surround the bread. Surround the cup. Surround us – here and elsewhere. Bless us in our eating and drinking. Bless our connection – near and far. No matter if close or distant, our covenant with God will keep us together.
May we spend this time remembering: The ones who can’t be at the table. The ones who are no longer at the table. And the one Christ who created this sacramental table experience. Amen.
Prayer of Thanksgiving
Loving God, Great Provider-
After this time together, near and far, we give thanks for the opportunity to commune with the Christ and our neighbor. May the love that was experienced tonight through bread and cup open our hearts to the beauty, pain, and joy across our world. May this sacrament move us to offer our neighbors our love. And may our time at the table remind us of the ones who are forever in our hearts. Amen.
Blessing of the Gifts and Benediction
As we are not having a “collection” time during our service, our congregants are dropping them in boxes on the way out of the sanctuary, mailing them into church, or giving online. We have combined the two together.
Holy One-Your gifts build a world of love, filled with memories of your presence in our lives. May we use our gifts to continue to create a world of care, living into your mandate to love one another as you love us. Amen.
We walk into the dusk knowing the journey of Jesus. May we remember his steps to the cross. May we embrace his profound love. And may we share this grace each and everyday, leading our world to resurrection.
Amen.
(c) Rev. Michelle L. Torigian 2021. Liturgy may be used with attribution.
Christ gave us the mandate to love one another. Christ gave us the peace that we will never be left alone. Christ gave us the picture that we are connected as vine and branches. Christ gave us the assurance that no one will take away our joy.
God is with you! God is with us all! Open wide our hearts. We open them to new possibilities. From our dining room tables to our home offices. this is the time to give God our thanks and praise.
Our homes may be filled with young voices, or our homes may be filled with overwhelming silence. This table might be brimming with family, or we may be sitting by ourselves at the empty table. But the table is never truly empty. The silence will not be the last sound you hear.
Jesus the Christ has created a realm of love for each of us- one in which we will be reunited with loved ones, one in which we are assured of God’s comfort.
It was a night filled with teachings and memories. Undoubtedly, tears were shed and laughs raised. This was the night before Jesus died.
Jesus took bread. As he blessed it and broke it, he said to his friends Whenever you eat this bread, eat in remembrance of me.
Later, Jesus blessed a cup filled with fruit of the vine. Friends, this is the new covenant. Drink this to remember me. Drink to remember our time together.
Spirit of God, surround the bread. Surround the cup. Surround the elements – no matter what form they take. Surround us – no matter where we are. Bless us in our eating and drinking. Bless our connection – near and far.
Even with physical distance between each one of us, our covenant with God will keep us together. Amen.
Three years of seminary was the grand beeping alarm clock to my own racial privilege. Conversation after conversation with friends who eventually became pastors and prophets in Ferguson stirred me from the deep sleep of privilege in which I had mostly abided for three decades of my life.
I’m awake… I’m awake… Of course, I think I’ll never going to fall asleep ever again…
As the days and months continued post-seminary, my eyelids became droopy. Fatigue overcame my mind and my heart. Eventually, my eyes close, and I found myself mostly unsuccessful resisting an idealized dreamland while my sisters and brothers of color are calling out to God for their lives and their well-being.
Like Peter, James and John keeping watch as Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, I continue to nod off to sleep. There are days in which I feel like I am spiritually dozing and need the nudging of the Christ to become alert to the reality of so many in our communities.
This nudging comes in the form of news articles posted, first person accounts of injustices posted on Twitter as they are happening, being called out for a sentence or two of “whitesplaining” or hearing a cherished friend’s story of fear and discrimination. #Staywoke in social media is the alarm clock that’s intended to stir me from my sleep, whether I am in a deep slumber or nodding off for a short nap, slipping out of privilege-consciousness for a moment or two.
As a person of racial privilege, I have the freedom to be able to close my eyes for a time-out while my friends of color can’t rest for a moment. They are crying out for their well-being as they are treated unfairly in the workplace, in systems of education and by the powers-that-be. They are wailing as their children are found slain in daylight due to unjust systems.
As people who are white, we have the obligation to stay awake as Jesus has urged us to do – watching and waiting alongside of Jesus and neighbor, knowing that the time is coming for another round of oppression.
In the spirit of reconciliation during this upcoming Holy Week – especially as we reflect on the Mark 14 narrative of Peter, James and John trying to keep awake – I ask God and neighbor for forgiveness as I close my eyes to the injustices in our world. I pray that God will give me the energy, focus, passion, understanding and courage to #staywoke alongside my friends who aren’t gifted the option to rest. And I yearn for a time when those of us who know privilege will keep alert even after the daylight of justice comes.
From The Garden of Earthly Delights – Hell Hieronymus Bosch (circa 1450–1516) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
For a few years now, I haven’t really believed that Jesus descended to hell in those 40 hours between his death and resurrection.
I don’t believe he was a ransom for souls or was victor over some evil force.
But what if the Divine in Christ was the Divine which follows us into the depth of shadows, to Sheol like what was mentioned in Psalm 139:
7 Where can I go from your spirit?
Or where can I flee from your presence? 8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. 9 If I take the wings of the morning
and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, 10 even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me fast. 11 If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light around me become night’, 12 even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is as bright as the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
I like to believe Jesus didn’t go to Hades in some afterlife escapade like it mentions in the creeds but, rather, experienced hell as he walked the earth. He went to the depths of Sheol every time he touched the unclean, ate with people who had little dignity, and healed the expendables.
So Jesus went to hell… and Jesus brought heaven… each day in his ministry.
As you definitely know by now, it is Holy Week. For those of us in the clergy/ministry business, we are attempting to accomplish in one week what we usually accomplish in about three or four ordinary time weeks.
In this process, our ideal selves are not shining this week.
I will want to stare at stupid reality shows, binge watch Netflix, play 60 consecutive games of Bejeweled Blitz, and surf the computer for hours in the evening.
I may eat one too many brownies or have an extra glass of wine this week.
I will want to pamper myself somehow… maybe a massage, a haircut and color or a mani/pedi.
I will either not sleep enough or I will sleep too well.
I will be Rev. Crankypants until Sunday morning is over.
I will be Super Crankypants if I am approached about taking care of something that can obviously be completed well after Easter Day.
There will be tears. Guaranteed.
There will also be an impromptu dance party at least once per day. And I will be breaking out in song – most likely something from my college days and reminding me of a much simpler Holy Week.
The house will have extra clothes on the floor, the dishes will sit in the sink a little too long, and I will not have vaccuumed as I usually do.
I will remind people of things over and over again because I’m truly hoping not to drop one of my many balls in the air.
If you can not find me I will be at one of the following places: (1) church, (2) Michael’s, (3) the ice cream store, or (4) curled up in a corner somewhere as I wail and gnash my teeth.
My throat will start feeling scratchy by Thursday which brings on the added stress of extra needed sleep, gargling with salt water, and remembering to take any and every kind of vitamin that could possibly work. Otherwise, I have to carve into my day a good hour and a half for a trip to the clinic.
Easter morning will be full of caffeine, adrenaline, and pure Holy Spirit joy. And then once noon hits on Easter, I am a complete zombie. Not normal Sunday afternoon zombie but full zombie-apocalypse walker.
I am so exhausted that I might as well post a “Do not disturb until the Thursday after Easter” sign on my door.
Holy Week Michelle is not typically who I am. Well, sometimes it is – especially in the two weeks preceding Christmas. And I will apologize over and over and over again as I try to keep everything moving forward.
All I ask is a bit of grace, a bunch of prayers, and maybe, a pint of double chocolate ice cream. Thank you for loving me through the valley of the shadow of Lent and every other day of the year.
Recently, I have fallen in love with P!nk and Nate Ruess’ song “Just Give Me a Reason.” The melody of the song is magnificent. Yet there’s something about the words that reach into my heart.
It’s the lyric “Not broken, just bent.”
As Christians, what would it mean to call ourselves bent instead of broken?
I ponder the subjects of original sin, total depravity and these centuries-long idea that humans are so fallen that we can’t redeem ourselves – at least on our own. What if that wasn’t the case?
What if we are just slightly dented? What if we have the potential to smooth over our dings and bends because of the love of God, the leadership of Jesus the Christ and the strength of the Holy Spirit?
This is where Holy Week comes in…
Jesus died on a cross. Did Jesus die to repair a brokenness? Or did Jesus die in the process of showing us ways of evening out the indentations on our souls and in our societies?
If we are made in God’s image, maybe we aren’t completely broken. Maybe we just have been crushed and squashed by life, and it’s time for us to find God’s image within each one of us once again.
There is hope in knowing that we aren’t completely broken. There’s possibilities for tomorrow. There’s new ways of finding grace. There’s dignity where we haven’t seen it before.
So I’m sticking with the school of thought that we are bent and not shattered. And quite often, bends, twists and dents make us more beautiful anyway.
This gives me no time to fill my “Before 40” bucket list – the list of activities I wished I had accomplished before I turn 40. There are things I would have loved to cross off before this impending birthday, but it doesn’t look like these will happen.
Here is my “not going to accomplish before 40” bucket list.
Meet the love of my life (could happen, probably won’t)
Write a book
Go to New York City
Get married
Go to Europe
See Van Morrison in concert again
Run a marathon/half-marathon
Have a child (birth or adoption)
Buy a house
Meet Ben Affleck
Take a cake decorating class
Be an extra in a movie
I’m sure there’s other items…
Have some of you felt the urge to complete certain activities before you turned 30, 40, 50, etc? What happened when you didn’t complete them? Did you feel discouraged or even less than whjole?
Or did you save them for the next decade?
Why is completing our dreams so important by a certain age? I think about Jesus the man, especially this Holy Week, I wonder if he was at a content place before he died? Did he have his own Bucket List? Was Jesus’ bucket list one that included improving the conditions for the poor and expendables during his time? Was it one that included a significant other, marriage and children?
Or was he just blissful living fully in each moment? Maybe that should be #1 on my list.
If you do have a way to help me make the other 12 things happen in the next 15 days, let me know…
This is part of the Palm Sunday Sermon delivered at St. Paul United Church of Christ, Old Blue Rock Road, on March 24, 2013.
When we celebrate Palm Sunday, we’re not just praising Jesus. Our call to faith is deeper than sitting in a cheering section on Jesus. We can’t support for Jesus without cheering on our sisters and brothers who struggle. By waving our palms in this parade, we’re cheering a system where all are given dignity and rights.
Here’s the thing – it’s risky. Jesus died for standing up for humanity and the humans he met. Jesus died because of the sins of broken systems. In many similar ways, we’ve seen these deaths in recent history. Martin Luther King Jr. died because he spoke to loudly on issues like civil rights, labor and the war. Dietrich Bonhoeffer died because he was outspoken against Hitler and the Nazis.
If any of us to really have the faith of Jesus, we’d have the faith that would put fear aside and put our neighbors front and center. Our lives would be at risk – from ridicule by our loved ones to arrests and death.
I wish I could have that level of faith that Jesus had – the kind that would stand up for radical love and grace no matter what the cost. But I worry what others will think. The let the fear of “what will people think of me if I voice my opinions” get in my way. What will people think of me if I attend a rally or protest or parade… It’s not that I don’t stand up for what I believe, it’s just that I’ll lower my voice a bit if I know I’ll offend others. It’s scary to be as bold as Jesus.
But boldness and justice is an imperative part of our faith. I know that justice is reoccurring theme in Scriptures. Some form of the Hebrew word for justice, mishpat, is used over 400 times in the Hebrew scriptures. The faith of the prophets who stood for love and justice was the faith of Jesus. He carried that radical love and boldness into the future by advocating for the marginalized.
Looking at the repeated mention of justice in scripture would indicate to me justice is a part of our call as Christians. So how do we look at justice issues as a faith community, especially as a faith community of diverse theological and political views? Our first and most important step is dialogue. It’s trying to understand why our neighbors believe what they believe and try to figure out if we are called to advocate for the marginalized. While we may not agree as a full community, we are still journeying together to find out what we can do to give dignity to all of God’s children.
Yes, we are called to feed and house and clothed, but we’re not called JUST to feed and house and clothe. Through Jesus the Christ, God has called us to stand up to the powers that be to create just ways of living. I’ve often used the illustration of mission and mercy as pulling people out of a fast running river. Justice is going upstream to find out why they fell in the river to begin with. Most of us have found our place at the bottom of this stream pulling people out. But what if we traveled together upstream to find out why people have fallen into the river and maybe even do something about it?
And If we had the faith of the prophets and the faith of Jesus to be radically loving and just, who would we stand up for in our society? Much like they took care of the widows and orphans, is our call to stand up for the single mom who can’t afford childcare? Just like they called for the Israelites to take care of the aliens, are we called to take care of immigrants in our land? Just like the Just like Jesus cured those with leprosy, are we called to advocate for those with HIV/AIDS or other stigmatized illnesses? Just like Jesus had a grassroots protest on the other side of Jerusalem, are we called to protest systems that oppress?
Celebrating Palm Sunday means supporting Jesus’ stand against oppressive systems. It means more than hosannas and yippees. It’s standing on the side of justice and risking who we are to stand for the greater good. So when we wave the palms, we’re not only supporting Jesus, we supporting Jesus’ way of loving others at a cost.
As we face the most intense part of Lent – Holy Week – how will we reflect on the powerful love and courageous steps of Jesus? In what ways can we love, advocate and serve radically? In what ways can we be bold in our faith? If we are willing, let us pick up the palm leaves not only to honor our redeemer, but to stand with him as he shares the love of God with all he meets.
Three years of seminary was the grand beeping alarm clock to my own racial privilege. Conversation after conversation with friends who eventually became pastors and prophets in Ferguson stirred me from the deep sleep of privilege in which I had mostly abided for three decades of my life.
Michelle L. Torigian 