Passion, 2016
21/03/16 05:07
When I am conversing with people who are dying and their family members, they often say something along the lines of “I’ve never done this before,” or “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” Of course none of us have ever done this before. Each human death is a completely unique experience. Each human relationship is unique. There is no experience that can fully prepare us for the experience of loss.
On the other hand, there are some things that can help us develop the skills to deal with death and loss.
I often say that Holy Week is about practicing for the events that will come into every life. Our lives are busy and filled with schedules and events. Families fill up their hours with activities. I often hear from families the list of events that compete with church and worship for the family’s time. There are sports programs that demand participation and conflict with worship. There are trips to visit family that take people away from their home church. There are lots of other things that people can be doing which compete for time. I have noticed, however, that when a death occurs, the family is able to drop everything, to suspend participation in all of the competing activities, and to give their full attention to a funeral service. Too often, however, when that event occurs it feels strange and unfamiliar for those who are grieving.
Holy Week gives the opportunity to set aside the everyday and to focus our attention on the big things of life and death. For those who give themselves the gift of time and attention to the services of Holy Week there is a unique opportunity to think about some things that will come for all of us. We will all experience grief. We will all one day face death.
The liturgy of the passion is a very simple service. Basically we simply read the reports of the last days of Jesus’ life that are in our gospels. We rotate through the gospels in a set three-year pattern. I know that there are four gospels, so the three year pattern is confusing, but this year we read from Luke for the liturgy of the passion. We’ll hear from other gospels on other nights. For most of the time that I have been pastor of this congregation, we incorporated the liturgy of the passion into our Palm Sunday worship. A few year ago, however, we decided to separate the two services and have discovered that there is a value in allowing the passion to stand alone. I have often read the passion narrative alone, practicing for dramatic effect. For our liturgy tonight we will have three voices to break up the story. We will sing a few hymns and allow time for quiet prayer. It is a very simple service.
For the singing, we will sing a single verse of a hymn, with various verses inserted into the liturgy at various points. Our usual practice is to sing an entire hymn, including all of the verses. Hymns utilize the power of poetry to communicate a complete message and giving attention to all of the words of a hymn can be important in receiving the intentions of the poets. There are times, however, when extracting a single verse gives emphasis to the words in a unique way and allows the hymn to speak freshly. This can are especially meaningful with hymns that are familiar and well known. Instead of simply singing the familiar words and allowing them to work behind the scenes in our conscious thinking, we extract a few words to pay special attention and give those words the opportunity to assume a new role in our thinking.
Part of my preparation for the evening’s worship will be to attend a community Holy Week service at noon. These services have been a lenten tradition for decades in downtown Rapid City. Interestingly, they focus primarily on the art of preaching. Each service has a reading of scripture, a sermon and a piece of special music. They are designed to take place during the noon hour, so are kept short so participants will have time to catch a simple meal and return to work. The preachers rotate with a different speaker each day. I am often intrigued by the variation in preaching. Some ministers are very heavy with their anticipation of Easter, others are more comfortable sitting with the texts of grief and sorrow, waiting for a while before approaching a resurrection theme. Some tell of personal experiences and share stories from their own lives. Others take a bit of an academic bent, teaching about individual words of the text and the context of the scriptural passage.
The variety in the services reflects the variety of human experiences when it comes to grief and loss. As I’ve mentioned previously in my blog, I attend a lot of funeral services and find a wide variation in the services that are presented at times of grief and loss.
The intense focus on grief makes Holy Week a bit of a heavy time for me. I spend more time with emotions that sometimes we wish to avoid. I tend to be a very cheerful person who is quick to tell others of the good things that happen in my life. I’m not much for talking about pain, sorrow and loss. I am more reserved and private about my experiences of pain than I am with experiences of love and joy. I would far rather tell you about the birth of our children and grandchildren than the death of parents and grandparents. I don’t think I am unique in my approach to life. As a result, however, a week of focusing and practicing for times of grief and loss is a more challenging spiritual discipline than a week of celebration. This hard work demands, for me, a bit more private and quiet time. I spend more time alone in the church in the early mornings. I take a bit longer for my personal spiritual disciplines and prayers. It isn’t that I avoid others, just that my time with others requires the reinforcement of time alone with God.
The journey is a challenge.
On the other hand, there are some things that can help us develop the skills to deal with death and loss.
I often say that Holy Week is about practicing for the events that will come into every life. Our lives are busy and filled with schedules and events. Families fill up their hours with activities. I often hear from families the list of events that compete with church and worship for the family’s time. There are sports programs that demand participation and conflict with worship. There are trips to visit family that take people away from their home church. There are lots of other things that people can be doing which compete for time. I have noticed, however, that when a death occurs, the family is able to drop everything, to suspend participation in all of the competing activities, and to give their full attention to a funeral service. Too often, however, when that event occurs it feels strange and unfamiliar for those who are grieving.
Holy Week gives the opportunity to set aside the everyday and to focus our attention on the big things of life and death. For those who give themselves the gift of time and attention to the services of Holy Week there is a unique opportunity to think about some things that will come for all of us. We will all experience grief. We will all one day face death.
The liturgy of the passion is a very simple service. Basically we simply read the reports of the last days of Jesus’ life that are in our gospels. We rotate through the gospels in a set three-year pattern. I know that there are four gospels, so the three year pattern is confusing, but this year we read from Luke for the liturgy of the passion. We’ll hear from other gospels on other nights. For most of the time that I have been pastor of this congregation, we incorporated the liturgy of the passion into our Palm Sunday worship. A few year ago, however, we decided to separate the two services and have discovered that there is a value in allowing the passion to stand alone. I have often read the passion narrative alone, practicing for dramatic effect. For our liturgy tonight we will have three voices to break up the story. We will sing a few hymns and allow time for quiet prayer. It is a very simple service.
For the singing, we will sing a single verse of a hymn, with various verses inserted into the liturgy at various points. Our usual practice is to sing an entire hymn, including all of the verses. Hymns utilize the power of poetry to communicate a complete message and giving attention to all of the words of a hymn can be important in receiving the intentions of the poets. There are times, however, when extracting a single verse gives emphasis to the words in a unique way and allows the hymn to speak freshly. This can are especially meaningful with hymns that are familiar and well known. Instead of simply singing the familiar words and allowing them to work behind the scenes in our conscious thinking, we extract a few words to pay special attention and give those words the opportunity to assume a new role in our thinking.
Part of my preparation for the evening’s worship will be to attend a community Holy Week service at noon. These services have been a lenten tradition for decades in downtown Rapid City. Interestingly, they focus primarily on the art of preaching. Each service has a reading of scripture, a sermon and a piece of special music. They are designed to take place during the noon hour, so are kept short so participants will have time to catch a simple meal and return to work. The preachers rotate with a different speaker each day. I am often intrigued by the variation in preaching. Some ministers are very heavy with their anticipation of Easter, others are more comfortable sitting with the texts of grief and sorrow, waiting for a while before approaching a resurrection theme. Some tell of personal experiences and share stories from their own lives. Others take a bit of an academic bent, teaching about individual words of the text and the context of the scriptural passage.
The variety in the services reflects the variety of human experiences when it comes to grief and loss. As I’ve mentioned previously in my blog, I attend a lot of funeral services and find a wide variation in the services that are presented at times of grief and loss.
The intense focus on grief makes Holy Week a bit of a heavy time for me. I spend more time with emotions that sometimes we wish to avoid. I tend to be a very cheerful person who is quick to tell others of the good things that happen in my life. I’m not much for talking about pain, sorrow and loss. I am more reserved and private about my experiences of pain than I am with experiences of love and joy. I would far rather tell you about the birth of our children and grandchildren than the death of parents and grandparents. I don’t think I am unique in my approach to life. As a result, however, a week of focusing and practicing for times of grief and loss is a more challenging spiritual discipline than a week of celebration. This hard work demands, for me, a bit more private and quiet time. I spend more time alone in the church in the early mornings. I take a bit longer for my personal spiritual disciplines and prayers. It isn’t that I avoid others, just that my time with others requires the reinforcement of time alone with God.
The journey is a challenge.