Easter Vigil

Easter Vigil 1

“Dear friends in Christ: On this most holy night, in which our Lord Jesus passed over from death to life, the Church invites her members, dispersed throughout the world, to gather in vigil and prayer.” —Book of Common Prayer (Church Publishing, 1979), p. 285.

The Easter Vigil is one of the year’s most complicated and beautiful services for the church. The difficulty is that it is only once a year, so it is hard to remember all the tiny details from year to year. As a result, there is sometimes more chaos on this evening than the church would like. But this also adds to its beauty: light and creation emerging from chaos. The service starts with lighting the Paschal candle from a fire, usually outside the church. The large lighted candle then enters the church into complete darkness.

The deacon carries the Paschal candle in as they light the congregation’s candles while singing “The Light of Christ” three times in a slightly higher pitch. This is followed by the deacon chanting the beautiful Exsultet.

It is time for me to turn the Exsultet over to someone else. I have loved chanting the Exsultet for more than seventeen years. It has been a privilege. Our former other deacon at St. Mark’s, Susan, sang the Exsultet for three years. I loved hearing her practicing and beautifully chanting it from her heart. Michael, one of our priests, chanted it the following year, and our new rector, Barkley, will chant the Exsultet again this year.

Old Testament readings about God’s history with God’s people follow the Exsultet. Next come baptisms, crying babies, and curious toddlers escaping from their parents, all still in the dark. Finally, the cacophony of the incredible noise of bells of every size announces that Christ has risen indeed. The lights come on, and we see all the flowers of Easter surrounding the inside of the church. Then, we celebrate the first new Eucharist of the Easter season.

The service may be similar to what the spice-bearing women experienced when they came to the empty tomb on that early Easter morning. They saw one or two angels in dazzling white, telling them they were the first to know that Jesus had been raised from the dead!

This is the Easter message: Jesus defeated death and rose from the dead. We will rise from the dead. We have the promise that we will find resurrection in all the suffering and unnecessary deaths from this virus and the social and racial unrest in our world. This year, we especially pray for peace and resurrection for the people of Ukraine, the Middle East, Sudan, and the people of our state still suffering from the recent tornadoes.

Joanna. joannaseibert.com   https://www.joannaseibert.com/

 

 

 

Good Friday

Good Friday

“The courageous women who weep …”–John 18:1-19:42.

“On Good Friday, so much focus is rightfully on Jesus’ suffering on the cross. But let’s look down below him and see the courageous women of John’s story. In memory of them, let us pray for women who today will weep for their children, refusing to be comforted. And let us hold in prayer the women in today’s Golgothas who, in the face of horrible suffering, somehow find the strength to hold each other up.”—Eileen D. Crowley, “Sunday’s Coming” in The Christian Century (4/11/2017).

In Arkansas, starting on Easter Monday, 2017, eight executions were planned over ten days because one drug used had an expiration date at the end of that month. There had been no execution for twelve years. I remember that earlier execution well, because I was a deacon at our cathedral, which is close to the governor’s mansion. Eric Nance was executed for the death of 18-year-old Julie Heath. We had an ecumenical prayer service for the person to be executed and the person he had killed. I played the harp at the service, probably the African American spiritual, “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child.” We then went to the governor’s mansion and sang and prayed by candlelight until after the execution.

All the men on death row had killed young women. I wonder what these girls are praying for now in eternal life, and if they are lighting candles. Some stories about the men reveal that they had awful lives with a lack of the love from women, like the ones who followed Jesus.

My prayers today are that governors all over our country will stop executions, and eventually, this state will abolish the death penalty.

My third prayer is that we will do our best to raise strong and loving women, like the ones at the cross with Jesus, so their children will know love and not violence against others, especially against women.

Remember the wrongful death of Jesus today. Also, include in your prayers the many people all over the world who are unjustifiably suffering and dying. Remember those ill or dying because of the past epidemic. Remember those still suffering in this state from the tornadoes last year. Remember the families, women, and children in Ukraine, the Middle East, and Sudan.

I close with a recent Good Friday poem by another loving and strong woman and dear friend, Zane Baker, in Winston Salem.

Think of the many crosses we live

The Thrills/ and Tough Times

The Tall Trees/ Torn Trunks

The Terrifying Tempest/or Tender Tranquil

The Tiny/ the Tremendous

The unTouchable Twinkles alofT

All Tended with love.

Saint Joseph of Arimathea Chapel National Cathedral

Joanna. joannaseibert.com https://www.joannaseibert.com/

 

 

Buechner: Remembering Maundy Thursday

Buechner: Remembering Maundy Thursday

“‘WHAT YOU ARE GOING to do,’ Jesus says, ‘do quickly.’ …  Jesus tells them, ‘My soul is very sorrowful, even to death,’ and then asks the disciples to stay and watch for him while he goes off to pray. … His prayer is, ‘Abba, Father, all things are possible for thee; remove this cup from me; yet not what I will but what thou wilt,’—this tormented muddle of a prayer which Luke says made [Jesus] sweat until it ‘became like great drops of blood falling down upon the ground.’ He went back to find some solace in the company of his friends then, but he found them all asleep when he got there. ‘The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak,’ he said, and you feel that it was to himself that he was saying it as well as to them.”—Frederick Buechner, “Last Supper” in The Faces of Jesus: A Life Story (Paraclete Paress, 1974).

gethsemane adam abram

We continually struggle with our own humanity. So many spiritual friends I meet, including myself, spend a lifetime seeking perfection. Holy Week is a time to remember Jesus’ struggle with his humanity, as best told in the synoptic Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. On Maundy Thursday in these Gospels, Jesus reveals how complex the human condition is. As he asks for this cup to pass, he sweats “blood.” On Good Friday, he suffers more, cries out in anguish, thirsts, and even asks God, “Where are you?”

A massive painting of Jesus praying at Gethsemane hung at the front of the sanctuary inside the Methodist Church where I grew up in Virginia. The image of Jesus praying in the Garden differs from other references to his praying in the Gospels. There is a thorn bush beside him. The sleeping disciples in the distance are barely discernible. This time, Scripture connects us to the human side of Jesus, which will soon be abandoned. This is an image to keep when we pray through challenging situations and feel alone.

We can talk to and identify with Jesus and others who have had similar experiences. I often see this in grief recovery groups, where people listen to each other because the other person has some idea of the pain they are going through. I see this in twelve-step groups, where alcoholics, addicts, and co-dependents listen to others who walk a similar path. How amazing that our God loves us so deeply that God came to be among us. This week, we especially remember that God has experienced and understands what suffering and being human are like. There is no greater love.

I see each of us praying, sometimes in agony, beside Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. Unlike the disciples, we have some idea of the harm before us. I imagine each of us beside Jesus praying in the garden that “this cup will pass.” He is beside us, knowing and experiencing exactly what we are going through. There is no greater love than His presence.

message of Gethsemane St. Mary Magdelne gilbert az

Joanna  joannaseibert.com. https://www.joannaseibert.com/