Holy Saturday: Raising Hell

Today is the second day of the Easter Triduum, perhaps the most neglected and misunderstood day of the three. OurBook of Common Prayer puts an emphasis on rest in the Collect for the Day, as if Jesus is taking a breather off stage before the big production tonight at the Easter Vigil.

But our forbearers experienced and understood Holy Saturday much differently. Today is when Jesus descends into Hell to break the gates open wide and free everyone. The old English called it the "Harrowing of Hell" -- the robbery of Hell. 

If you look closely at icons and paintings from centuries ago, that is what you will see. The artwork posted here today is from a remarkable panel of paintings at the National Gallery of Art, by Benvento di Giovanni (Sienese) painted in 1491 depicting Jesus standing on the gate of Hell and pulling people out. Note the devil crushed under the gate.

This morning I will lead a few simple prayers at 9 am in the Chapel, and I will offer a brief homily marking Holy Saturday. Tonight at 7:30 pm is our first opportunity to proclaim the resurrection -- tonight is the first proclamation of Easter Sunday -- but we are not there yet. 

I leave you, for now, with a simple poem by my friend, Franz Wright, and an item from theologian James Alison:

HELL

But if they were condemned to suffer
this unending torment, sooner or later
wouldn’t they become the holy?Franz Wright, God’s Silence, 2006

“With this we can say… that Hell exists, as the Church has always maintained; nevertheless it is perfectly possible that there is nobody at all there.”James Alison, Raising Abel, 1996

Holy Saturday: The Second Day, robbing Hell of its power

Today is the second day of the Easter Triduum, perhaps the most neglected and misunderstood day of the three. OurBook of Common Prayer puts an emphasis on rest in the Collect for the Day, as if Jesus is taking a breather off stage before the big production tonight at the Easter Vigil.

But our forbearers experienced and understood Holy Saturday much differently. Today is when Jesus descends into Hell to break the gates open wide and free everyone. The old English called it the "Harrowing of Hell" -- the robbery of Hell. 

If you look closely at icons and paintings from centuries ago, that is what you will see. The artwork posted here today is from a remarkable panel of paintings at the National Gallery of Art, by Benvento di Giovanni (Sienese) painted in 1491 depicting Jesus standing on the gate of Hell and pulling people out. Note the devil crushed under the gate.

This morning I will lead a few simple prayers at 9 am in the Chapel, and Pastor Nik will offer a brief homily marking Holy Saturday. Tonight at 7:30 pm is our first opportunity to proclaim the resurrection -- tonight is the first proclamation of Easter Sunday -- but we are not there yet. 

I leave you, for now, with a simple poem by my friend, Franz Wright, and an item from theologian James Alison:

HELL

But if they were condemned to suffer
this unending torment, sooner or later
wouldn’t they become the holy?
Franz Wright, God’s Silence, 2006

“With this we can say… that Hell exists, as the Church has always maintained; nevertheless it is perfectly possible that there is nobody at all there.”
James Alison, Raising Abel, 1996

So it begins again: Holy Week, waving palms and Easter beyond

The culmination of Lent is Holy Week – the days leading to Easter. For me, it is the most spiritually moving week of the year.

Tomorrow is Palm Sunday and the beginning of Holy Week. As we did last year, instead of hearing the entire Passion narrative in one sitting, we are pausing in the garden with Jesus and the disciples and our palms. The gospel lesson we are hear will be the first segment of the Passion according to Saint Mark, and it will end as Jesus is arrested.

We will let each day of Holy Week unfold for us, one scene at a time.

On Maundy Thursday, we will hear John's gospel and the washing of feet. On Good Friday, we will take this theme a step further. Beginning at noon, we will hear the full passion narrative according to Saint John, and then seven people from our congregation will describe seven people who were there at the Cross. On Holy Saturday morning, we will mark the descent of Jesus into Hell. On Saturday night, the darkness will be pierced with the first proclamation of Easter.

As I have done in the past, I will blog throughout Holy Week with some of my own experience. I hope you might add your comments about your experiences. There will be no "Monday Funnies" in Holy Week, but don't worry, the jokes will be back in Easter.

Here is a thumbnail guide to the events of Holy Week at St. Paul’s Memorial Church that begins tomorrow:

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Palm Sunday, India, 2006
BBC News

Palm Sunday begins outside with the waving of palms and the great triumphant entry by Jesus into Jerusalem, and then Palm Sunday quickly slides into remembering the betrayal and arrest of Jesus. This year our guest preacher is The Very Rev. Dr. Ian Markham, the president and Dean of the Virginia Theological Seminary.

Monday of Holy Week, we will hold noon Prayers for Peace and a reading of the names of all the soldiers, sailors and Marines who died in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan in the last year, and conclude with a Holy Eucharist at 12:30 pm. Each weekday in Holy Week we will have the “Stations of the Cross” at 6:30 pm, led by our ministry intern, Joe Lenow.

Tuesday of Holy Week, we will hold our 12:15 pm Holy Eucharist.

Wednesday of Holy Week is marked by a noon Eucharist and Evening Prayer at 5:30 pm, and our community night supper.

Maundy Thursday begins the Great Three Days, or Easter Triduum. Consistent with the Hebrew calendar, the first day begins at sundown on Thursday and the third day begins at sundown on Saturday. During the Great Three Days, there are no blessings or dismissals until Easter. The reason is the Church understands the services of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday and the Great Vigil of Easter to be one great continuous liturgy.

The word “maundy” derives from Middle English, and it means “mandate.” Maundy Thursday commemorates the Last Supper when Jesus “mandates” that we remember him each time we experience the bread and wine of our Holy Eucharist.

On Maundy Thursday, we recall that Jesus ate with his disciples, then washed their feet. The focus is on his act of lowering himself to the feet of his followers. Joe Lenow will be preaching.

The first day continues at noon on Good Friday, Jesus lowers himself still further. He goes to the Cross, crucified between two criminals, giving to us his supreme act of love to suffer with us in our pain, and show us that there is more to life than death. From noon to 3pm, we will hear reflections offered by members of the congregation about the figures who are part of this great story – Mother Mary, Herod, Peter, Pilate, Mary Magdalene and others.

At 7 pm, we will distribute Communion bread that we have reserved from Maundy Thursday and kept in the Chapel. At 8 p.m., we dim candles, one at a time, and hear readings from the Book of Lamentations, in the solemn observance of Tenebrae, a Latin word meaning “shadows.”

On Holy Saturday morning, at 9 a.m., we assemble in the chapel for a brief time for the prayers marking the second day, when Christ descends into Hell itself to open the gates wide and let everyone out.

On Saturday evening at 7:30 pm, after sundown comes our first opportunity to celebrate the third day of Easter: The Resurrection. We assemble for the Great Vigil of Easter – the biggest, most splendid and opulent worship of the entire year.

We light a fire outside, and bring the light of the Paschal candle into the church. The Paschal Candle leads our procession, and there are no crucifixes carried on this night. We are done with the Cross.

Inside the church, sitting in the dim light, we hear again the story of creation. And then with lights on, and bells ringing, we declare the Resurrection – we loudly declare Christ has Risen! – and we experience again the joy of Easter and our first Eucharist of the Easter season.

Bring a bell and come join us.

On Easter Sunday morning we gather in the sunlight, our Lent completed and our new life in Christ begun once again. Our services Easter Sunday are at 8 am, 9:15 am and 11:15 am and 5:30 pm.

Alleluia! The Lord is Risen! The Lord is Risen Indeed! Alleluia!

By James Richardson, Fiat Lux

The Raising of Lazarus and the emptiness of Hell

Today comes the story of the raising of Lazarus from the dead, found in John 11:17-44, the only place in the New Testament where the story is found. Jesus goes to the tomb where his friend, Lazarus, has been dead for three days. He hears the anguish of Mary and Martha, and so Jesus orders the dead man to come out, and then tells the startled onlookers "Unbind him and let him go."

For many it is a dark, broody disturbing story. Jesus weeps, Jesus is "disturbed in spirit." The dead man has a stench, we are told, and his new life will not last long. The authorities, hearing of this, immediately begin to plot the death of both Jesus and Lazarus.

The incident can also be heard as a foretelling of the Holy Saturday story of Easter, when Jesus himself goes into the tomb, and to Hell itself to unbind everyone and let them go. The unbinding of people in Hell is at the heart of message of the Gospel, and makes Jesus more than a mere rabbi or wisdom teacher. It is why we describe Jesus as "Savior" and divine.

You will note there is no "Jesus died for your sins" in these stories, and maybe that is another reason the story is hard to take for some. This unbinding comes as a pure act of love with no strings attached, no conditions. Lazarus has not asked to be saved, but salvation comes to him.  It makes all this the harder to comprehend. Humans don't act this way. Only the divine is capable of that.

The placement of the story of Lazarus on the last day of Christmas and the Eve of the Epiphany is meant, I think, to show us the true meaning of the light of Christ coming into our lives. It's not really about magi bearing gifts to Christ, but Christ bearing gifts to us. This light comes in the hardest moments and at the gates of death itself. It is a reminder that Christmas is inextricably connected to Easter and the Resurrection and the empty tomb.

Many theologians have tried to explain this, and many a preacher, including me, has tried as well. The poets sometimes explain this better with fewer words, so I leave you with a quote from one of my favorite contemporary theologians and with a short poem:

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“With this we can say… that Hell exists, as the Church has always maintained; nevertheless it is perfectly possible that there is nobody at all there.”

James Alison, Raising Abel, 1996

HELL

But if they were condemned to suffer
this unending torment, sooner or later
wouldn’t they become the holy?

Franz Wright, God’s Silence, 2006

Art: "Mary, Martha and Lazarus," by He Qi

My Holy Saturday reflections published in an eBook to benefit River City Food Bank

I don't allow commercial plugs on this blog, but today I am making a partial exception to benefit a very worthy cause.

This topic may not sound very Advent-y, but go with me here.

Several years ago I wrote a short book of reflections about Holy Saturday, the second day of the three days of Easter, the day when Jesus goes to Hell to let everyone out.

My reflections emerged from a group that I led in 2007 that we called "The Holy Saturday Project." As part of the project we worked at the  River City Food Bank which serves some of the poorest and neediest people in Sacramento, a city that has been hit very hard in the economic downturn. We also washed the feet, and trimmed the toenails, of homeless people on Maundy Thursday of Holy Week that year -- and it was not a ritual washing but the real thing with dirty and chapped feet.

The only problem with this book is I never got around to getting it published. The manuscript has sat in my computer, not exactly lost, and not quite forgotten, but a labor-of-love writing project that has not emerged from it virtual tomb.

So I have done something about that. I've published my Holy Saturday book as an Amazon.com Kindle edition with its original title from 2007: "Descending Into Hell" Resurrecting Holy Saturday, Easter's Missing Link. It costs $4.99, and you can download it to your computer, Kindle or iPad. You can find the book HERE.

And here is the good news: I will contribute all the royalties -- 100 percent -- to the River City Food Bank which is so much a apart of this book. The Amazon Kindle royalty is 70 percent, so for every eBook sold, River City will get $3.49.

It may seem odd to you that I am writing about Holy Week in December, but Holy Saturday is akin to Advent: it is time of waiting and hoping, the time of "not yet" but "almost here." And River City could use the funds now.

Holy Saturday has been nearly lost in modern contemporary Christianity, but in ancient times it was immensely important, and was marked as day of fasting, prayer, looking outward with expectancy, and service to the poor. So is Advent.

River City has lived through its own Holy Saturday hell. An arsonist burned down the building a year ago.

Thanks to tremendous community support, River City Food Bank has rebuilt in a new mid-town location.

The organization still needs $36,000 to get fully back up to speed.

The arson and aftermath happened after I wrote these reflections, but that is not included in the reflections. The book, for whatever it is worth, reflects my thoughts and experiences from 2007, and therefore stands on its own as written. I have refrained from giving it a rewrite or another edit. What is most important to me is you read it, reflect upon it and lend me your thoughts -- and be generous with the River City Food Bank.

The One who made the Pleiades and Orion, and turns deep darkness into the morning: Into our Advent blues

Confession time: I am struggling with Advent this year. Maybe it is because it has “come like a thief in the night.”

Wasn’t it just a couple of weeks ago that it was hot and sticky and we were on our way back from Jerusalem?

Advent has come on very suddenly this year, or so it seems to me. The days get shorter, the sky seems gloomy and blue most of the day, and the sun sets much too early.

And it is more than that: I am once again searching for the meaning of Advent. Yes, I know, it is the season before Christmas, the time of expectant waiting for the Light of Christ to come into the world, the time before the dawn. I know all that.

But can’t we just we skip past all that, light the tree, have few angels and wise men, and open a few presents?

And what to make of the very starchy readings we get in the Daily Office lectionary?

Take, for example, the prophet Amos who this week is calling down wrath upon Israel for worshipping false idols and ignoring the poor (Amos 5:8-9):

“The one who made the Pleiades and Orion, and turns deep darkness into the morning, and darkens the day into night, who calls for the waters of the sea, and pours them out on the surface of the earth, the Lord is his name, who makes destruction flash out against the strong, so that destruction comes upon the fortress.”

Then we have Jesus, who is in full-throated scold mode today, telling the parable of the king who throws a wedding party and the guests don’t show up (Matthew 22:1-14). So the king invites people off the streets, and then gets angry all over again when one of the street-people is dressed wrong. The king orders the badly dressed guest to be bound hand and foot and “throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

What does any of this have to do with Advent and the bright lights of Christmas on the horizon?

It occurs to me that Advent is a Holy Saturday season, but stick with me a bit so I can explain this.

Holy Saturday is the day after the crucifixion (Good Friday), and the day before the Resurrection (Easter). Holy Saturday is the in-between-time of expectation of dwelling in the emptiness of the desert. Holy Saturday is that moment when Jesus goes to find people living in the darkness, even dwelling in Hell itself, so he can bring them with him into the light of Resurrection and Easter.

That is exactly what Advent is about. It also makes Advent very different than Lent.

To get to Christmas, we have to go to the emptiness of the desert and the emptiness of our souls.

This Sunday we will travel to the desert in the remarkable opening stanzas of the Gospel of Mark 1:1-8, where John the Baptist stands in the desert and “the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him.” (Mark 1:5)

The throngs come hoping to have an experience of God in the middle nowhere, in the place of desolation. They go to the desert to find the “the one who made the Pleiades and Orion, and turns deep darkness into the morning, and darkens the day into night.”

If we can get past the wrath and scolding of the readings this week, we might hear these ancient people reminding us to look for the blessings in the empty places – in the deserts where we might dwell. That is hard stuff, especially if you are lonely or dwelling in a personal darkness.

Yet even in the darkness of Advent, there God dwells, and that is what John the Baptist tells people when they find him: Look around (“repent”), God has been with you all along, wake up and see.

That is a message of hope.

Advent is an in-between time in the desert, and also a time to wake up and see the blessings right in front of us. It is a time to look for the blessings especially in times when it is hardest to see. Maybe start with the simple things. This morning I looked out at the Ragged Mountain range to see the bright light of dawn dancing on the tree tops. That was an amazing blessing, a gift for the eyes that will never look quite like that again.

I am convinced that the parable Jesus tells today in Matthew 22:1-14 fits in Advent because it is a Holy Saturday story. Again, stick with me for a few moments on this. Some interpretations render the King of the story into a metaphor for God, and the point of the story becomes about metaphorically wearing the right clothes when encountering God. Be ready, and that is certainly a good message for the season.

But what if the King in the parable is not a metaphor at all? What if the king is a selfish worldly king? And what if you don’t have the right clothes?

And go another step. Who is the badly dressed guest thrown out of the party and into the darkness?

What if the badly dressed wedding guest is Jesus himself, cast into the darkness before the dawn where he might find those who are lonely, hurting, and not fitting into the edicts of the worldly kings or wearing the right clothes? What if this is another story of Holy Saturday, when Jesus goes to find people living in the darkness, even dwelling in Hell itself, so he can bring them with him into the light of Resurrection and Easter?

Wake up, look around. The blessing is right in front of you.

Maybe the prophet Amos has it exactly right:

“The one who made the Pleiades and Orion, and turns deep darkness into the morning, and darkens the day into night, who calls for the waters of the sea, and pours them out on the surface of the earth, the Lord is his name.”

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Photographs: The Pleiades star cluster, photograph by NASA;  Mono Lake in the Mojave Desert of California, photograph copyright by Gary Hart.

Unholy Saturday

This poem came across my transom a few months ago. I've delayed giving it to you today because it is set in June. And as the title suggests, it is also about Holy Saturday -- the second day of Easter. So what better day to bring this to you than the first Saturday of June, and while it is still Easter for another week?

May all that binds you be freed, may all that hurts you be healed, may everything that captures you be vanquished. And may your summer be full of crawdads and memories. Blessings on this Holy Saturday.

Unholy Saturday
By Philip Levine


Three boys down by the river
search for crawdads. One has
hammered a spear from a
curtain rod, and head down,
jeans rolled up to his knees, wades
against the river's current.
Barely seven, he's the most
determined. He'll go home
hours from now with nothing
to show for his efforts except
dirt and sweat and that residue
he's unaware of sifting
down from a distant sky
and glinting like threads
of mica across his shoulders.
In the distance someone keeps
calling the names of the brothers
in the same order over
and over, but they don't hear
what with the riverbank gorged
with blue weed patches and all
the birds in hiding. Perhaps no
one is calling and it's only
the voices of the air as
the late light of June hangs on
in the cottonwoods before
the dark whispers the last word.

Photo: Rivana River, Charlottesville, Virginia

The world feels especially quiet this morning: Homily by Ann Willms for Holy Saturday

The Church has nearly lost sight of Holy Saturday -- the second day of the Great Three Days of Easter. It is the day after the crucifixion, but the Resurrection has not yet happened. It is a fulcrum between the two and it is crucial to the understanding of the meaning of Easter.

There is a liturgy for Holy Saturday in our prayer book, though it has fallen into disuse in the Church. We've resurrected it, so to speak, at St. Paul's. This morning, our associate rector, Ann Willms, led us in this simple service of meditation and psalms.

The lessons we used today are 1 Peter 3:17-22 and John 19:38-42.   Ann gave this touching and very personal homily, and it brought home to me again why Holy Saturday matters, really matters. I commend it to you, and I hope you will join us tonight at 7:30 pm for the Great Vigil of Easter:

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Holy Saturday homily
By The Rev. Dr. Ann Willms

The world feels especially quiet this morning. After the unraveling and chaos of Jesus’ final hours yesterday, there is only silence. After the shouting of guards, the jostling of crowds, the wailing of women, the pounding of nails, and the exhausted groans of those who hurriedly carried the body to the tomb, all is silent now. Jesus is dead and buried. The Word-made-flesh has been silenced.

I was not prepared for the silence in the wake of my mother’s death. Her death was accompanied by the chaos of its suddenness. The shouting was my own, desperately trying to will her to stay with us. The jostling was of the paramedics hauling in their equipment. The wailing was from one of my daughters, the pounding of a fist in anger from the other. And the exhausted groans were of the funeral directors who came to take the body away just before midnight– to take my mother away.

When a death occurs, what happens next is often a blur, and yet also very methodical, as in John’s gospel. They procured and removed Jesus’ body. They wrapped it with spices in linen cloths. They carried it to the tomb in the garden and laid it there. Then they evidently went home, because the Sabbath was the next day and further work would be prohibited.

I wonder what that silence was like that night for Jesus’ mother Mary.
I wonder what the silence was like for Peter and Mary Magdalene. So much unspoken, and now, only silence. For me, the silence of my mother’s death was almost unbearable. I looked out that night and saw my mother’s car in my driveway and asked the sky, “Where are you?” Nothing came back.

We are here at the liminal place, the threshold of death, where it is only silence. In some ways it is a relief after witnessing the pain and torment Jesus suffered. We can catch our breath. But it also evokes a profound loneliness and sadness.

There is a tradition that has grown in the church from the 4th century that says that despite the silence the survivors experienced, Jesus was actually “at work” breaking down the gates of hell, preaching to all those who in life did not hear or accept the good news, until every resident soul was saved. This is the so-called “harrowing of hell.” This is what is alluded to in the First Letter of Peter reading we heard, about the gospel being proclaimed even to the dead. I have found this image comforting in years past, but this year I have wondered if it is simply another way for me to avoid the stark reality of Jesus’ being really dead. It is so much better to think of him in action somehow.

But to say that his body lay in the tomb while his soul wandered the underworld presumes a Greek dichotomy of body and soul that was incomprehensible to the Jewish understanding of human be-ing. We are one – body and life-breath and soul – one entity. So when we die, we die as a whole, yet are held in the memory of God. Jesus too died wholly, simply being with the dead as the dead.

And yet this, and only this, is how death was put to death. As Hans Urs von Balthasar has pointed out in his book Mysterium Paschale, Jesus’ solidarity with the powerless in death was his proclamation, silent though it was, that his work was completed. This truly being with the dead was his proclamation that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ, not even death.

In a few moments we will depart, many of us to make preparations for tonight’s Easter Vigil. The busyness and movement and work with our hands will comfort us as these things often do after a death. They remind us that we are alive, and that life is precious. Let us allow our preparations to be held with the silent tomb in view, even as we look toward the certain joy of Easter.

Holy Saturday: Hell defeated; Tonight: The Great Vigil of Easter

Icon depicting Jesus descending to Hell
to open the gates and get
everyone out.

Holy Saturday is remembered with a series of simple prayers and psalms on Saturday morning. If you have a chance, join me in the chapel at 9 am this morning -- the service is quite brief.

Tonight at 7:30 pm we celebrate the Great Vigil of Easter. This is by far my favorite service of the year, and it is the most important on the Church calendar. We begin by lighting a fire, and then processing into the darkness of the church. The Great Vigil of Easter, also called the “Paschal Vigil” or the “Divine Liturgy” is the first official celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ in the Easter season.

Historically, the earliest known accounts of The Great Vigil of Easter date to the early 3rd century of the Common Era. In the ancient church, it was at this service that people, especially children, were baptized and adults received as catechumens into full communion with the Church. The Vigil is held in the hours of darkness between sunset on Holy Saturday and sunrise on Easter Day. The Great Vigil of Easter is considered to be the first celebration of Easter because Hebrew and early Christian tradition consider feasts and other great days to begin at sunset.

In the Roman Catholic, Orthodox and Anglican Communion (of which the Episcopal Church is fully a part), the Easter Vigil is the most important Mass of the liturgical year, and is the first celebration of the Eucharist during the fifty-day long celebration of Eastertide. The service begins outside with the lighting of the Easter fire, and then the congregation proceeds inside following the Paschal Candle and led by the cantor chanting the Exsultet. In darkness, we hear the story of how God’s people are delivered from darkness.

Finally, we proclaim Easter and the Resurrection of Jesus Christ and we celebrate our Eucharist. For the first time since the beginning of Lent, we proclaim “Alleluia!”

Holy Saturday: Jesus goes to Hell to break down the gates and let everyone out

I hope you have followed the Lenten reflections offered by members of St. Paul's. They've been remarkable, and each has underlined for me the depth and breadth of the people of St. Paul's (we've posted all of the reflections on a special blog you can read by clicking HERE).

It is my privilege to offer the reflection for today in the Lenten reflections, and I am reprinting it below:

Isaiah 42: 5-7, Psalm 16: 8-11 , 1 Peter 3: 18-20, Matthew 27: 50-53

When I was a small child in church I got chills whenever we would recite the part of the Apostles’ Creed that proclaimed Jesus went to Hell. Stop and listen to those words: “He descended into hell."

Did the adults know what they were saying?

It was not until the fifth decade of my life that I began to understand the line. And when I did it was one of those amazing moments of clarity. I had arrived at Holy Saturday, a day that is crucial to understanding the relationship that all of humanity – indeed, all of creation – has with the Risen Christ of Easter.

On Good Friday, the first day of Easter, Jesus dies on the Cross. Holy Saturday, the second day, is when Jesus opens the gates of Hell to let everyone out. On Holy Saturday, Jesus has robbed Hell of its power. Death is the enemy, and death is vanquished.

Without Holy Saturday, the resurrection of Jesus has very little to do with us. With Holy Saturday, we go with him. Holy Saturday is the fulcrum between the Cross and Easter.

Holy Saturday is a proclamation that no one, not even those who are already dead, is beyond Grace. The concept of Holy Saturday pushes us to reconsider the all-too-human urge to put limits on God’s mercy. On Holy Saturday, Jesus comes to find us in our deadest moments not just in the next world but also in this world.

Because of Holy Saturday, Jesus not only dies for us; Jesus dies with us, and he reveals himself as God-become-human, showing us a way to live without fear. Easter becomes not just about the One, but about all of us.

Collect for Holy Saturday

O God, Creator of heaven and earth: Grant that, as the
crucified body of your dear Son was laid in the tomb and
rested on this holy Sabbath, so we may await with him the
coming of the third day, and rise with him to newness of life;
who now lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one
God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Liturgical notes: Holy Saturday is remembered with a series of simple prayers and psalms on Saturday morning. If you have a chance, join me in the chapel at 9 am -- the service is quite brief.

Tonight at 7:30 pm we celebrate the Great Vigil of Easter. This is by far my favorite service of the year, and it is the most important on the Church calendar. We begin by lighting a fire, and then processing into the darkness of the church. The Great Vigil of Easter, also called the “Paschal Vigil” or the “Divine Liturgy” is the first official celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ in the Easter season.

Historically, the earliest known accounts of The Great Vigil of Easter date to the early 3rd century of the Common Era. In the ancient church, it was at this service that people, especially children, were baptized and adults received as catechumens into full communion with the Church. The Vigil is held in the hours of darkness between sunset on Holy Saturday and sunrise on Easter Day. The Great Vigil of Easter is considered to be the first celebration of Easter because Hebrew and early Christian tradition consider feasts and other great days to begin at sunset.

In the Roman Catholic, Orthodox and Anglican Communion (of which the Episcopal Church is fully a part), the Easter Vigil is the most important Mass of the liturgical year, and is the first celebration of the Eucharist during the fifty-day long celebration of Eastertide. The service begins outside with the lighting of the Easter fire, and then the congregation proceeds inside following the Paschal Candle and led by the cantor chanting the Exsultet. In darkness, we hear the story of how God’s people are delivered from darkness. Finally, we proclaim Easter and the Resurrection of Jesus Christ and we celebrate our Eucharist. For the first time since the beginning of Lent, we proclaim “Alleluia!”

Art: "He is Risen," by He Qi

Holy Saturday: The Harrowing of Hell

Today is the second day of the Easter Triduum, perhaps the most neglected and misunderstood day of the three. Our Book of Common Prayer puts an emphasis on rest in the Collect for the Day, as if Jesus is taking a breather off stage before the big production tonight at the Easter Vigil.

But our forbearers experienced and understood Holy Saturday much differently. Today is when Jesus descends into Hell to break the gates open wide and free everyone. The old English called it the "Harrowing of Hell" -- the robbery of Hell. 

If you look closely at icons and paintings from centuries ago, that is what you will see. The artwork posted here today is from a remarkable panel of paintings at the National Gallery of Art, by Benvento di Giovanni (Sienese) painted in 1491 depicting Jesus standing on the gate of Hell and pulling people out. Note the devil crushed under the gate.

This morning I will lead a few simple prayers at 9 am in the Chapel, marking Holy Saturday. Tonight at 7:30 pm is our first opportunity to proclaim the resurrection -- but we are not there yet. And if you have not seen my posting from last night, please scroll down.

I leave you, for now, with a simple poem by my friend, Franz Wright, and an item from theologian James Alison:

HELL

But if they were condemned to suffer
this unending torment, sooner or later
wouldn’t they become the holy?

Franz Wright, God’s Silence, 2006

“With this we can say… that Hell exists, as the Church has always maintained; nevertheless it is perfectly possible that there is nobody at all there.”

James Alison, Raising Abel, 1996

Does Jesus mean everyone? Tuesday in Holy Week

It is the holiest of all weeks, but the less-than-holy routine of the church still plods along as it always does. This morning, shortly before our noon Eucharist, I got a call from a sales representative  from a well-known religious supply company (yes, for those unfamiliar with the hum-drum of church business, there are companies that specialize in selling everything from candles to wafers, vestments to Sunday school booklets, and they have sales people who make blind calls). 

I have talked with many such religious supply sales people over the years, and usually I can get

by with asking them to send me a catalog or a website link.

But this salesman pressed a little harder than most, and he had a hint of despair in his voice. The church supply business is hurting like all businesses these days, and our conversation ended with his plea that I support "Christian business" because "that will make our economy recover."

I have to say the end of our conversation left me with a bad taste in my mouth. The company he represents is a fine company, their items are of high quality, so I am not naming the company. But it seems to me that the point Jesus tries to make over and over is that he comes for everyone, and salvation (recovery?) belongs to all, not just those carrying the label "Christian." If I understand anything at all about being a follower of Jesus, it has something to do with breaking out of tribal loyalties. 

And so off I went to our noon Eucharist pondering again the meaning of being a Christian, mixed with my thoughts about last night's wonderful conversation with the Shalom Group on the topic of Holy Saturday and Jesus's going into Hell. We had 18 people at the noon Eucharist in the chapel (see photo above), and I sat in silence still thinking about all of this. 

The gospel lesson for today (John 12: 20-36) is one of the long discourses where Jesus tries to explain the meaning of his impending death. It struck me as I heard it that today's lesson has to directly to do with who is included (everyone), and how they are included (by the Cross of Good Friday and Holy Saturday): Jesus descends to the dead to free everyone from death. And by everyone, he means everyone. Hear again his words...

"And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself."

All people are included, all. There are no boundaries to the events of Holy Week, as there are no boundaries to the power of God's grace and mercy. 

Tonight at 7:30 pm we will return to this sacred space for the mystical haunting chants of Taize, led by University of Virginia students in our Canterbury Fellowship. I hope you will join us.

So it begins: What happens in Holy Week

We enter into Holy Week tomorrow: We remember the events of betrayal, crucifixion, and entering into Hell itself. At the end of Holy Week comes the joyous declaration of Resurrection, new life. The fruits of Easter – and Spring - will soon be with us.

Before we go there, I’d like to sketch for you what transpires at St. Paul's in Holy Week (you will find this similar to the sermon I preached last Sunday). It is my hope and prayer that you will not rush through this the holiest of weeks of our year. I’d like you not to skip from Palm Sunday to Easter without experiencing the richness of what comes in between and the depth of its meaning for us in our walk of faith.

Please accept my personal invitation to participate in as much of Holy Week as you can, wherever you are, and to be especially attentive to the Holy Spirit working within you. Listen for the Holy Spirit, allow yourself to be made new, just as Easter makes each of us new.

I will post on this site each day of Holy Week to explain a bit of what we are doing and why, and to share what I am experiencing. I will also give you a heads up on what comes the next day. And, sorry, no Monday Funnies this week, but it will return the day after Easter Day.

Holy Week is first and last about servanthood, ours to each other, and Christ as servant to all of us. The events of Holy Week represent Jesus lowering himself, step by step, into the fullness of servanthood: Jesus declares, “Where I am, there will my servant be also.”

The first day of Holy Week is tomorrow, the day called, The Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday. It begins with the waving of palms and the great triumphant entry by Jesus into Jerusalem, and then Palm Sunday quickly slides into remembering the tragedy and torture of the crucifixion soon to come.

On Monday of Holy Week, we will end our regular noon Prayers for Peace with a Holy Eucharist at 12:30 pm.

On Tuesday of Holy Week, we will hold our noon Holy Eucharist, and at 7:30 pm, our university students will lead their very moving – haunting – chants of Taize.

Wednesday of Holy Week is marked by our Evening Prayer at 5:30 pm and our community night supper. Then I will lead an instructed Eucharist at 7 pm, pausing along the way to explain a bit about how and why we do what we do in the Eucharist.

The three days of Easter begin on Thursday evening at 7:30 pm – Maundy Thursday. We begin the great three days on Thursday, in keeping with the Hebrew calendar in which the new day begins at sundown. The third day begins at sundown on Saturday.

During the Great three days, classically called the Easter Triduum, there are no blessings or dismissals. The reason is the Church understands the services of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday and the Great Vigil of Easter to be one great continuous liturgy.

The word “maundy” derives from Middle English, and it means “mandate.” Maundy Thursday commemorates the Last Supper when Jesus “mandates” that we remember him each time we experience the bread and wine of our Holy Eucharist.

On Maundy Thursday, we recall that Jesus ate with his disciples, then washed their feet. The focus, though, is not on the meal, but on his act of lowering himself to the feet of his followers.

At St. Paul’s on Maundy Thursday, we will wash the feet of all who wish to have their feet washed, and we will celebrate our last Eucharist before the day of Resurrection. Truly, our mandate is to serve each other and the world.
We will strip the Altar to its bare wood, and we will take consecrated unleavened bread and keep it in a place of reverence in the chapel. We do so to signify that Jesus is still with us even as he hangs on the Cross.

At noon on Good Friday, Jesus lowers himself still further. He goes to the Cross, crucified between two criminals, giving to us his supreme act of love to suffer with us in our pain, and show us that there is more to life than death.

On Good Friday we will offer solemn prayers at noon, and again offer those prayers at 5 p.m. After the five-o’clock prayers, we will, in silence, distribute the bread we have reserved in the chapel, a mark of Jesus being with us especially in times of pain.

Once more on Good Friday, at 8 p.m., we will assemble for prayers, and we will dim the candles, one at a time, in the solemn observance of Tenebrae, a Latin word meaning “shadows.”

On Holy Saturday morning, at 9 a.m., we will assemble here for a brief time for the prayers of Holy Saturday, the day that marks when Christ descends into Hell itself to open the gates wide and let everyone out. The prayers of the morning are brief, and I am especially inviting those of you who are preparing our sanctuary for the evening Vigil to participate in this short service.

Holy Saturday is the anvil upon which Easter rests. Without Jesus going to the dead to break the chains of Hell, the resurrection has little to do with us.

With Holy Saturday, Jesus takes us with him at the Resurrection. I hope you will join me for a few minutes Saturday morning in the chapel.

On Saturday evening, after sundown comes our first opportunity to celebrate the third day of Easter: The Resurrection. We assemble for the Great Vigil of Easter – the biggest, most splendid and opulent worship of the entire year.

We light a fire outside, and bring the light of the Paschal candle into the church. The Paschal Candle leads our procession, and there are no crucifixes carried on this night. We are done with the Cross. Inside the church, sitting in the dim light, we hear again the story of creation. And then with lights on, and bells ringing, we declare the Resurrection – we loudly declare Christ has Risen – and we experience again the joy of Easter and our first Eucharist of the Easter season.

Bring your bells and come join us.

On Easter Day morning we come here in the sunlight, our Lent completed and our new life in Christ begun once again.

And with grateful hearts we join in our prayer for The Great Vigil of Easter: “Stir up in your Church that Spirit … which is given to us in Baptism, that we, being renewed both in body and mind, may worship you in sincerity and truth.”

May each of you, wherever you are, have blessed and Holy Week, and a season of hope and renewal in the Easter that is to come.

-- James+