by Kelli Martin
(photo by Mary Richardson)
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Happy Eastertide! It is the week after Easter and we have been through a lot together. We just experienced the most momentous seven days in the liturgical calendar, Holy Week. That week was packed with drama and packed with emotion. In the beginning, on the first day, we started on a high with the euphoria of Palm Sunday. Then we read aloud the Stations of the Cross, walking where Jesus walked as he took up his cross and took his last breath. It felt like a pendulum swinging with the weight of hard things to come.
On Day 2, we went from the euphoric loudness of Palm Sunday to the quiet soothing, golden solace of the candle-lit Taizé. It felt enchanting. On Wednesday, the arc continued from the light of Taizé to the sophisticated moan of the shadows of Tenebrae, with the Allegri’s Miserere sung in a way that wraps you in an underwater embrace. Then we went through Maundy Thursday; with foot washing and a new commandment that felt vulnerable, sad, giving and tender. Day 5 was the thunderous agony of Good Friday. Day 6, Holy Saturday, and the Easter Vigil that urges you, no pushed you, toward a sense of purpose that simmered in the silence. And on the 7th day, Easter Sunday, with its boisterous brass and triumphant celebration for the risen Christ when we sang at the top of our lungs.
The rooms we were in held the drama of transformation. We went from the light-filled extravaganza of candles to dark, darker and darkest. The rooms we occupied were decorated in a different way for each service. A stark chapel warm with wood one day is transformed into a lush, overgrown garden later that week. The church glowed in a candlelit extravaganza one day, then morphed into a darkened, stark landscape adorned with nothing except a gigantic wood cross the next day. Even the nave was transformed into near total darkness.
We participated in liturgy indoors and outdoors…outside in God’s creation where our worship space had fire. We went from mesmerizing candles inside, to being enveloped in total darkness, to those same candles being extinguished one by one, to a roaring fire outside.
Even sound was transformed. Tenebrae held the discordant sound from the organ and the bang of a shut door. Maundy Thursday heard the loud bang of the closed tomb. Easter Vigil and Easter Day heard boisterous brass, as our voices united in exuberant, melodic choruses…our triumphant arms raised high, at the raising of the Bread of Life. And even our speech was transformed. During Lent we did not utter alleluia and now we shout it from the rooftops! This feels like a relief. And the number of services was dramatic – we went from the customary 5 services on Sunday to 19 during Holy Week.
Holy Week is all about the drama. One week, a different drama every day. We didn’t do all that for drama’s sake. We did it for Christ’s sake. To worship and honor the Risen Christ. With that kind of drama, we’re ripe for transformation. Transformation was right in front of us. Jesus is resurrected!