Springtime mysteries and astonishment

Who hasn't seen this yet? Well, maybe some of you. Britain's Susan Boyle who, against all conventional ideas of glitz, has brought the world to their feet cheering with astonishment and delight. This is so worth watching, so please do. Easter is definitely here. The clip has had more than 18 million hits on YouTube, and YouTube has disabled the coding so I can't put the video directly on this blog. Click HERE to see this. 

And when when you return, here is a lovely Mary Oliver poem, sent by our friend Karen in Tennessee, for a gorgeous spring day. The photo is of a Redbud tree at an undisclosed location (the house we are trying to buy) in Charlottesville, taken by me a couple of days ago. Enjoy the day.

Mysteries, Yes
By Mary Oliver

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.

How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds
will never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.

Let me keep company always with those who say
"Look!" and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.

David McIlhiney to retire

By now, those of you on the St. Paul's mailing list should have received The Rev. David McIlhiney's letter announcing his retirement after more than 40 years of ordained ministry. His last Sunday will be July 26, and he plans to stay in Charlottesville. I will reprint his letter below. 

There is much to be said, and I hope each of you will take the time to talk with David and share your gratitude for his tremendous service to St. Paul's. When I came to this wonderful parish, he had been ably steering the ship for many months. 

He graciously stayed on as associate rector helping us in this latest phase of St. Paul's transition. I am especially grateful for his wise counsel to me, his pastoral care to our members, and his passionate concern for the university community. His liturgical and preaching skills are tremendous, and especially appreciated by me.

In the next few weeks, we need to find ways to thank and honor David, though he has asked that we not make too much fuss. We will have a big coffee hour in his honor in July. And I hope you will make some fuss, and let me suggest that individuals and small groups might take him to lunch or invite him to dinner.

Here is David's grace-filled letter:

Easter Monday 2009

My dear friends,

Five years ago you invited me to join the St. Paul's ministry. I have loved being part of this parish, sharing in the lives of so many of you, watching our student ministry regain some of its earlier vitality. I could not imagine a more satisfying way of rounding out my forty years in the ordained ministry.

It is now time for me to retire from that ministry. I have been with you during a period of transition from one rector to another, a transition that is now complete. Under new leadership, the parish has the exciting opportunity of reaching out to the Charlottesville and University communities with renewed energy and vision.

Jim and I have determined that July 26th will be the end of my service at St. Paul's. Because I plan to remain in Charlottesville, I shall look forward to seeing all of you frequently. I have been greatly blessed by having been part of St. Paul's, and I pray that God will continue to bless the parish in the months and years to come.

With my love,
David

Progress on the columns

I promise to not post too many photos of the column project, but I do want to show you the progress after only a couple of days. Our column masters have been chipping peeled paint all week and it shows. Also, I did not mention on the previous post, they will also be restoring the two squarish columns on the front wall, so that is six columns being restored. Here are a few photos from yesterday and today:

Thanks to all for a spectacular Easter! Here are a few photos of the Flower Guild getting ready

Scaffolding going up

The columns on the portico  of St. Paul's echo the columns of the University of Virginia across the street. And, as anyone knows who is been there recently, the paint is badly peeling from water damage and the columns have become an eyesore. 

The scaffolding is going up this week. Thanks to the research of Louise Gallagher, our former junior warden, and Pat Punch, our current chair of the Building & Grounds Ministry Team, hopefully the chipping paint in the photos at right will be a thing of the past. 

Painting the columns turns to be trickier than simply scrapping and slapping paint. The columns have surface damage from water. We have a vendor who will be sealing and resurfacing the columns before painting them white. The vendor has repaired other columns in Charlottesville, and Pat has inspected the work.

Our columns will be done two at a time, and the entrance will not be blocked. As an added benefit, the ceiling above the portico will also be painted. The total cost of the column repair and painting project is about $6,000.

The column project is the most visible of several projects that will be underway this Spring. We are also removing asbestos from a floor in the education wing, repairing leaking roofs and fixing the faulty air conditioning in the choir room, upgrading doors and upgrading sections of the electrical system. The Vestry budgeted $75,000 for repairs and maintenance this year.

All of this work is about being faithful stewards of our tools of ministry, given to us by previous generations. Thanks to one and all for your generosity: your contributions of treasure, time and talent, and your dedication to St. Paul's.

Monday Funnies: The Bishop's Choir

Here's a dividend for the Monday Funnies I just came across on Bishop Rickle's blog: our very own House of Bishop's Choir, on YouTube.com, singing at their meeting in March. For the Northern Californians, you will see Barry Beisner in the back row on the right. Can anyone find any Virginia bishops? No comment on their harmony...

Monday Funnies

Thanks to one and all for making Holy Week so moving, and for our spectacular Easter Vigil and Easter Day services. The flowers were amazing, the music glorious, the attendance over-the-top.

So many people worked so hard, I know I will miss someone who should be thanked: the ushers and altar guild, the choir and musicians, the flower guild, chalice bearers, coffee makers, the clergy, and the office and program staff tending to thousands of details. Thanks. Thanks. Thanks.

As you can see by the Dave Walker cartoon, the church office is in need of a break, so we are talking the day off. But religious observances continue. My friend Patrick Hill in Sacramento sent me this -- a two-minute version of a seder Passover dinner. Dayenu.

The Two-Minute Haggadah

A Passover service for the impatient.

By Michael Rubiner 

Opening prayers:
Thank God for creating wine. (Drink wine.)
Thanks for creating produce. (Eat parsley.)

Overview:
Once we were slaves in Egypt. Now we're free. That's why we're
doing this.

Four questions:
1. What's up with the matzah?
2. What's the deal with horseradish?
3. What's with the dipping of the herbs?
4. What's this whole slouching at the table business?

Answers:
1. When we left Egypt, we were in a hurry. There was no time for
making decent bread.
2. Life was bitter, like horseradish.
3. It's called symbolism.
4. Free people get to slouch.

A funny story:
Once, these five rabbis talked all night, then it was morning.

(Heat soup now.)

The four kinds of children and how to deal with them:
Wise child - explain Passover.
Simple child - explain Passover slowly.
Silent child - explain Passover loudly.
Wicked child - explain in front of the relatives.

Speaking of children:
We hid some matzah. Whoever finds it gets five bucks.

The story of Passover:
It's a long time ago. We're slaves in Egypt. Pharaoh is a
nightmare. We cry out for help. God brings plagues upon the Egyptians.
We escape, bake some matzah. God parts the Red Sea. We make it through;
the Egyptians aren't so lucky. We wander 40 years in the desert, eat
manna, get the Torah, wind up in Israel, get a new temple, enjoy several
years without being persecuted again.

(Let brisket cool now.)

The 10 Plagues:
Blood, Frogs, Lice - you name it.

The singing of "Dayenu":
If God had gotten us out of Egypt and not punished our enemies, it
would've been enough. If he'd punished our enemies and not parted the Red
Sea, it would've been enough, oh, Dayenu! Dayenu, Dayenu...

If he'd parted the Red Sea -

(Remove gefilte fish from refrigerator now.)

Eat matzah. Take a few more sips of way too sweet red wine. Slouch.

Again thank God for everything.

May you all have a happy Easter!

From Jim and Lori -- blessings this Easter!

Easter fire

Here is a video of the lighting of the new paschal fire outside St. Paul's last night, at the start of our Great Vigil of Easter. Many blessings to all...

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

The Lord is Risen indeed!

We had a glorious Vigil of Easter tonight. We began outside with the lighting of the fire, and the procession of the Paschal Candle. By candlelight we heard the stories of our Hebrew ancestors, and then with lights blazing and bells ringing, we proclaimed the Easter faith: Christ is Risen!

And Christ is with us now, and always, bringing us healing, wholeness and hope.

May you have a blessed Easter!

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

Good Friday: Life and death are with us

Good Friday is now complete, at least for me. The day has been long, and full. We held three services today at St. Paul’s, each with its own character. 

Life – and death – were ever present with us.

We have a homeless man who frequents St. Paul’s (those of you who are regulars know him). He spent Thursday night in jail, and I found him in a pew this morning. He asked me to put him on train to New York so he could go stay with his daughters. So after our noon service, I got him on the train. Please keep him in your prayers.

We also found out at noon about the death of Hugh Davidson earlier in the day after a very short illness. Mr. Davidson was a retired French professor, and a kindly, dapper gentleman with a wonderful smile. He will be much missed by his friends, and we will keep you posted about the date and time of his memorial service.

Our Good Friday services each had their own character, and each was so very moving. The Rev. Margaret Via preached at noon and again at 5pm, giving us a tapestry of ideas to make sense of the death of Jesus, and how God can emerge from the morass of evil to bring us good.

We held a Tenebrae service at 8 pm, reading from Lamentations and putting out candles.

And then there was cellist Marvin Brown, gracing us at noon and 5pm. He played the Kol Nidre, by Max Bruch, a piece of music taken from Jewish chants for the evening of Yom Kippur, the day of atonement. His music got me thinking that on Good Friday, not only is Jesus killed, but we take away his Jewishness. Perhaps Marvin gave a little of that back. You can hear his performance today by clicking HERE. 

Good Friday: Guilty as charged

Each day this week I have awakened not knowing what I would put on this blog, and today I am at more of a loss to know. I have had no plan this week, other than to experience Holy Week as much as I can and share with you what that has been like for me. I found last night's Maundy Thursday service at St. Paul's deeply moving; Pastor Janet gave us a homily about how the church must proclaim a God who is present with us no matter what mess or stress we may find ourselves in.

Good Friday, as you know, is the day we remember the execution of Jesus on the Cross. We will gather again at St. Paul's at noon, 5 pm, and 8 pm to remember the events of that Good Friday long ago, and wonder why it is "good," and to pray. People will gather in churches and meeting places all over the globe to do the same thing, and the passion story will be told thousands of different ways and in millions of hearts. 

The readings assigned this morning in our lectionary are heavy with the language of blood atonement and sacrifice. We hear the story of Abraham nearly killing his son, Isaac. We hear from Peter telling us we are saved by the "precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without defect."

It is as if the Church is searching for words and images to make sense of this event, and by so doing, make sense of all the Good Fridays we inflict around the globe on each other: wars in Iraq, genocide in Darfur, drug wars and beheadings along the Mexican border. How can God tolerate all this blood? Does God really require this "sacrifice"? So, this morning, I give you a small item from Elie Wiesel, a survivor of the Nazi death camps. The photograph on this post is from Dachau.

On the Trial of God 

By Elie Wiesel (Romanian) b. 1928

During the war, in one of the camps one evening, three Jews, who before the war were heads of academies, sages, learned men, and who all knew the Talmud by heart, decided that the time had come to do something about it, to indict God. And they conducted a trial. I was very young then. But I remember I was there. They sat on the bed one evening and they began the trial, the trial of God, with all the arguments for and against. And it lasted a couple of days. It was very serious, very dramatic. There was a certain gravity, a certain solemnity in every word they uttered because they knew that whatever they say has an impact, whatever they say is being heard. And I remember that after many days the verdict came. And the verdict was: “Guilty.” But, then, the head of the tribunal simply said: “Now let’s go and pray.”

Maundy Thursday: Will you be a faithful servant of all those committed to your care?

This morning I drove to St. Stephen's Episcopal Church in Culpeper, Va., about an hour north of Charlottesville. There I joined other priests and one deacon in the annual Holy Week rite of reaffirming our ordination vows.

Bishop Shannon Johnston, who will take over as diocesan bishop this fall, presided. He preached a moving homily about how we are to "do as we are." That is, we are ordained because that is who God made us to be, and we are to live and act as we are made to be.

Yet Bishop Johnston also noted that he is still in the act of becoming a bishop, as the rest of us are in the act of becoming who we are made to be. "Sometimes we lose sight of the fact that we are still at it," he said, and he implored us to be aware of how we are always in the process of being made by our Creator. 

And as we are made, we are called to be servants, to live as Jesus, serving each other. That is, after all, the point Jesus makes at the Last Supper by washing the feet of his followers, which we remember on Maundy Thursday.

When Bishop Johnston was through speaking, he washed the feet a few priests who represented the rest of us (and that is the bishop's back in the photo, as he is washing feet). Then we stood and joined in reaffirming our ordination vows. We were asked this question:  

"Do you reaffirm your promise to be a faithful servant of all those committed to your care, patterning your life in accordance with the teachings of Christ, so that you may be a wholesome example to your people?"

"I do," we replied. And I added, "With God's help."

Last year at this time, I participated in a similar Holy Week rite of reaffirmation of ordination vows, at Grace Cathedral, in San Francisco. When we reached that sentence above, that is when I knew I had been called to St. Paul's Memorial Church in Charlottesville, and when I knew what my answer would be. I will go, "With God's help."

Then, as last year, when we had finished our vows, we celebrated once again our Holy Eucharist, our Holy Thanksgiving.

Tonight at 7:30 pm we will wash feet at St. Paul's observing our Maundy Thursday. Please join us.

Maundy Thursday: Remembering One bread, One Body

There is still much to be done at St. Paul's: programs to be printed, bread to be baked, flowers to be arranged, sermons to be written. St. Paul's is already bustling to the brim with activity. Andre our sexton was busy all yesterday buffing floors. Tony rigged up a new light for me in the pulpit.

Janet gave a wonderful homily last night for children; later in the evening I led an instructed Eucharist (you can read my notes by clicking HERE). Every room yesterday seemed to contain a meeting or a group of some sort. 

Ready or not, here we go.

Today is "mandate" Thursday, the day we remember Jesus "mandated" us to remember him whenever we come together to share the bread and wine of our Holy Eucharist. The word "mandate" comes from "maundy" and so today is Maundy Thursday. Later this morning I will join clergy colleagues in Culpeper to renew my ordination vows with Bishop Shannon Johnston. The Great Three Days, the Easter Triduum, begins tonight. 

Traditionally the emphasis of Maundy Thursday is on Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. He serves his servants at their feet. And so tonight at 7:30 pm we will wash feet; it is especially right that the clergy wash the feet of our people. I would invite you to join us, and to not be shy. Please come forward to have your feet washed.

But before we get there, let's not lose sight of the Last Supper, and the remembering of Jesus in this meal we share together when we gather as faithful people. It is a profoundly Jewish way of remembering whenever we share in this Communion meal. We begin with "The Lord be with you" and "And also with you." That is an ancient Jewish table blessing.

Then we remember the Creation by God of  all that exists, and how we have turned away from God. And then we remember how God came to be with us in the person of Jesus, and this Last Supper on the night before he died. Our remembering brings us to the same table with Jesus and his disciples. We remember, and so we are there also, we are participants in these events, in these Great Three days.

Our meal, this Holy Eucharist, is shared by all faithful people everywhere, and that knits us together in spite of ourselves. I am especially struck by Paul's description in this morning's Daily Office reading (1 Corinthians 10:14-17, 11:27-32): 

"The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a sharing in the blood of Christ? The bread we break, is it not a sharing in the body of Christ? Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread."

Wednesday in Holy Week: Strengthen me

Last night I was called to visit two members of our parish who were in the emergency room at a local hospital. Neither was in a life-threatening situation, though both certainly wished they were somewhere else. 

A priest friend of mine who has specialized in hospital visitation for years told me once that every time she goes into a hospital room she says to herself "Lord, I am in over my head. Give me strength." And so I do that each time I visit someone in the hospital. 

Wednesday in Holy Week is about having strength. Tomorrow night the Great Three Days of the Easter Triduum begin, and we remember the events of the Last Supper and betrayal. Today, Wednesday in Holy Week, we remember that Jesus prayed for strength.

This morning's Daily Office readings go to that theme. The epistle for the day is the wonderful love letter of Paul to the persecuted Christians in Philippi (Philippians 4:1-13). Somehow they survived for they were able to preserve Paul's letter. In the letter, Paul tells them "the peace of God which passes all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." And epistle ends with Paul saying "I can do all things through him who strengthens me." It is another way of saying, "Lord, I am in over my head. Give me strength."

Today at St. Paul's will be busy. At noon I will be offering an instructed Eucharist (meet me in the Library). At 5:30 pm is Evening Prayer, and Pastor Janet Legro will be offering a message for children. Our community night dinner is at 6 pm, and I will offer another instructed Eucharist at 7 pm in the chapel. Join us for as much as you can. And may the Lord give you strength!

The artwork today shows the East Transept window at Trinity Cathedral, Sacramento, where I was ordained and served as associate dean for six years, and where Lori and I worshipped for 18 years. The window depicts Paul. In his right hand is a scroll, signifying his letters. In his left hand is a sword, signifying the "sword of the Spirit" and the sword that legend has it was used to behead him. To read more about the windows of Trinity Cathedral, read the highly informative narrative by my friend The Rev. Canon Dr. Grant Carey by clicking HERE.

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.

Tuesday in Holy Week: The Cross in sight

Last night Lori and I shared mac-and-cheese with the members of our young adult Shalom Group, and they were most intrigued by the swirl of events that is compressed into Holy Week. We talked especially about Holy Saturday, and how Jesus goes into the depths of Hell to defeat death. We are not yet there in our walk through this week, but the Cross is definitely in sight.

Tuesday in Holy Week has a tone of foreshadowing Good Friday. Today we hear the same gospel lesson (John 12: 20-36) that we heard on the Fifth Sunday of Lent about how following Jesus to the Cross means following Jesus into serving others. Look for the Cross of servicehood today, and if you can, join us for our noon Eucharist. 

The mosaic cross in the photo is near the High Altar at St. Paul's. Look for it the next time you are there. It is easy to miss, just as our opportunities for simple service are easy to miss. 

Here is the Collect for Tuesday in Holy Week. It is about the Cross:

O God, by the passion of your blessed Son you made an instrument of shameful death to be for us the means of life: Grant us so to glory in the cross of Christ, that we may gladly suffer shame and loss for the sake of your Son our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

My experience of Monday in Holy Week: Prayers for Peace

Today began dark, dreary, drizzly, in such sharp contrast to yesterday's gorgeous blue skies, waving palms and the colors of daffodils blooming everywhere in Charlottesville. We descend into Monday of Holy Week in the grayness of the morning showers.

At noon, eleven of us assembled in the St. Paul's nave for our Prayers for Peace. The sun worked its way inside to find us, a sunbeam here and there bursting over our heads through the clear glass of the large windows. The palms from yesterday look a little drier, but the sunlight danced across the fronds in front of the altar.

We sat in silence, though silence not exactly. A bell rang, a wooden kneeler creaked to the floor, someone cleared his throat. The building resonates with voices from many corners. I could hear conversations downstairs in the office, and someone laughing in a hallway. A few moments later,  someone sitting a few rows in front of me began to chant, his voice vibrating from the walls around us. A few more souls arrive, their feet slowly sliding across the wooden floor. We pray for peace, and there is life in these walls, and life beyond these walls. Even whispers carry across and through this sacred space.

A twelfth pilgrim arrives, then a thirteenth and a fourteenth. We were now fourteen strong, praying for the peace that so eludes the world. A few offer spoken prayers, and the words are interspersions in the silence that is not exactly silence. Then I hear geese outside. A bell rings twice. It is time for our Eucharist, and we stand together again, around the table, and remember the events of Holy Week and the Cross.

And so we will gather again, tomorrow, in the Chapel, at noon. Join us if you can.

Monday in Holy Week: Pray for Peace

The most viewed item on this blog is a Jewish prayer for peace that I posted last December during our Day of Prayers for Peace. Please join us today at noon at St. Paul's for our Prayers for Peace and then a simple Eucharist. And pray for peace wherever you are. Here again is the prayer:

Jewish Prayer for Peace

Grant us peace, Your most precious gift, O Eternal Source of peace, and give us the will to proclaim its message to all the peoples of the earth. Bless our country, that it may always be a stronghold of peace, and its advocate among the nations. May contentment reign within its borders, health and happiness within its homes. Strengthen the bonds of friendship among the inhabitants of all lands, and may the love of Your name hallow every home and every heart. Blessed is the Eternal God, the Source of peace. AMEN

Gates of Prayer (Jewish), p. 695

Palms to Passion

The earliest known account of Palm Sunday comes from a Spanish (or perhaps she was Gallic) pilgrim, Egeria, who described the elaborate ritual she saw in Jerusalem in 381 or so. Palm Sunday took all day, with time out for a mid-day meal before the faithful joined the bishop on the Mount of Olives for a procession with palms into the Holy City. Egeria wrote about her experience, and by the fifth century Palm Sunday had caught on in Spain and soon spread through the Christian world.

Our Palm Sunday did not take all day, nor did we have to walk so far. We began with a procession of palms that wound down the aisles and around, led by our acolytes and wonderful choir. We sang and prayed, and we walked and we waved our palms.

For me, it was a new experience though I have lived in many Palm Sundays. This was my first Palm Sunday at St. Paul's, and is was new and wonderful. We heard the ancient story of the triumphant procession of palms as Jesus entered Jerusalem. Then members of our congregation read the Passion story from the Gospel of Mark, reading aloud while standing in different places in our nave. David McIlhiney preached a homily about how we must travel with Christ to the Cross to unlock the Kingdom of God. 

And so our walk into Holy Week, and to the Cross, begins on a beautiful, sunny spring day (and that is Lori with her palm after our 10 am service). There is something fitting about the contrast of such a gorgeous day with the Passion story that comes next. I believe it is the contrast that gives Palm Sunday so much power.

Tomorrow, Monday in Holy Week, includes our regular noon Prayers for Peace, with prayers from many traditions. At about 12:30 pm we will celebrate a simple Eucharist. Please join me if you can, and wherever you are at noon, please pray for peace and especially for the peace of Jerusalem . 

May your week be blessed.

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+

The Blue Hymnal in a pew rack near you

A few of you have asked whether I write poetry, and the answer is yes. But most of it is a form of personal therapy and I'm not sure it should ever see the light of day beyond my notebooks. But here is one I will share with you today. May your Friday find you well, and may you discover many blessings in the mysteries of the Holiest of weeks to come.

The Hymnal (blue) 1982

By James RIchardson

O Gracious Light (twenty-five)

to dawn’s early light (seven-hundred-twenty)

You’ll find the block numbers up on the wall

       they change every week.

Then find a blue book in front of you.

So many hands hold it,

       their eyes careening across scratches

              and dots.

       mouths in Os, open, take a breath,

oh please take a breath

So many hands smudge the corners

       afraid to touch above the tiny italic,

       never veering above

              Watts, Proulx or Winkworth.

The book, after all, is silent, always.

       Or is it?

       The tunes leaping from eye to fingers to keyboard

The rest of us faking it a little,

       Or a lot.

       Warbling up and down with the dots and scratches,

              cross hatches become sounds,

              and that is a miracle if ever there was one.

Ever notice the lower corners on the cover of the Hymnal (blue) 1982?

       A little tatered, bent, flattened

specks of brown paper sticking out,

bits of cardboard fraying,

Like my voice.

The Week is coming: Experiencing Easter

Soon we enter Holy Week, that most mysterious time of remembering the Passion of Our Lord: the Last Supper, the betrayal in the garden, the trial, crucifixion, descent into Hell, and then the amazing Resurrection of Easter. It is the most holy of weeks, and for the clergy, it is generally the most stressful week of the year (keep all of us in your prayers). 

This will be my first Holy Week in Charlottesville, and I am looking forward to it with a mix of anticipation and a little anxiety. Please keep Lori and me in your prayers, and I hope you will join us for as much of Holy Week as you can.

Below is the Presiding Bishop's Easter message, followed by the Holy Week schedule for St. Paul's. Blessings to all...

Easter 2009 Message from 

Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori

The light returns and the days lengthen, even if it remains startlingly dark as we rise these days – daylight savings time is not always a blessing so early in the year! Christians, however, look for light even in the midst of darkness, for we know that darkness will not overcome it. The rising of the Son brings light into lives filled with grief, agony, and despair. Are you searching for the light of new life?

Easter recollects us and reorients us toward God’s eternal light of truth and peace and love. The resurrection is the ultimate proclamation that nothing can separate us from that light, not despair or destruction or death. We see hints of that resurrection all around us once our eyes have learned to look, and we continue to hope for its fullness, for the blessing of a light so encompassing that there can be no darkness or separation. Lent has been a willingness to experience the darkness of our current separation and tune our yearning for that light. Carry that yearning into Eastertide, and beyond, that we and the world around us may know the blessing of the light of Christ.

Easter 2009

The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori
Presiding Bishop
The Episcopal Church

Holy Week Schedule of Services at St. Paul's

Passion (Palm) Sunday - Sunday, April 5: 8 am - Holy Eucharist Rite I; 10 am - Holy Eucharist Rite II, procession with palms; 5:30 pm - Holy Eucharist Rite II
Monday in Holy Week - Monday, April 6: Noon - Prayers for Peace; 12:30 pm - Holy Eucharist
Tuesday in Holy Week - Tuesday, April 7: 12:15 pm - Holy Eucharist; 7:30 pm - Taize Evening Service
Wednesday in Holy Week - Wednesday, April 8: Noon - Prayers for Healing; 5:30 pm - Evening Prayer with Holy Week Message for Children, followed by Community Night dinner; 7 pm - Instructed Eucharist
Maundy Thursday - Thursday, April 9: 7:30 pm - Foot washing, Holy Eucharist and stripping of the Altar
Good Friday - Friday, April 10: Noon - Good Friday Liturgy of the Word; 5 pm - Good Friday Liturgy with homily and Communion from the Reserved Sacrament; 8 pm - solemn Prayers and Tenebrae
Holy Saturday & The Great Vigil of Easter - Saturday, April 11: 9 am - Holy Saturday Liturgy of the Word; 7:30 pm - The Great Vigil of Easter and adult baptisms (with incense)
Easter Sunday: The Day of Resurrection - Sunday, April 12: 8 am - Holy Eucharist Rite I with hymns; 9:15 am - Festival Eucharist with Brass and choir; 11:15 am - Festival Eucharist with Brass and choir; 5:30 pm - Holy Eucharist Rite II with hymns

Remembering and Holy Week soon to come

I am a little late with today's post -- an internet glitch at home. Sorry.

I came across a wonderful gem the other day from Barbara Crafton, who is an Episcopal priest who is currently serving in Florence, Italy. She has a terrific website called the Geranium Farm, and she sends a missive every day or two to folks. This one, I think, is especially fitting for Holy Week coming up, and says something about how we make the ancient story our story, the concept of remembering that we do in our liturgy.

In fact, all liturgy is just that: the recapturing of something that once happened, bringing it alive again and amplifying its meaning in the present moment, where we are now. The endless debate about "what's really happening" in a sacrament is fruitless, by and large: they are not rational occurrences, and they cannot be reduced to reasonable explanation. It is one of the saddest parts of being rational beings, this sterile insistence of ours that everything make sense, our grumpy suspicion of mystery. It cuts us off at the knees. Human beings are more than brains with legs. We are hearts, too. Many things can reach us, through many doors other than the door of our understanding. We owe it to ourselves to open all the doors, and throw open a few windows, too, while we're at it.