This week is Easter Week. It is a week where we can all just take a deep breath and let it out and relax. The craziness of last week is over, the emotional roller coaster has finally rolled to a stop. We’re breathless and still humming with excitement, but now we can rest a little.
We start with a spiritual high on Palm Sunday with Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, and then begin a slow descent on Maundy Thursday as Jesus’ sign of love in the breaking of the bread and the washing of his disciples’ feet is overshadowed by Judas’ imminent betrayal.
We then, of course, come crashing down the following day as Good Friday takes us through the Passion, the betrayal, the torture, the crucifixion and Jesus’ death. Just exactly how low a point is Jesus’ death? Look at the Apostle’s Creed. It tells us that Jesus “descended to the dead,” but I always hear the Catholic version in my head which says Jesus “descended into hell.”
There is nothing lower.
We are taken with Jesus into the depths, but on Saturday, during the Easter Vigil, we begin our climb out as we are greeted with an empty tomb and finally on Easter, we emerge from the darkness and into the light as we celebrate the resurrection.
It is an exhausting week.
Last week, I told you though, that this is what the Bible is particularly good at, bringing you with it, making you a witness, a participant in everything.
But it is exhausting.
This past Friday, I led the Stations of the Cross here at Hope for the first time. We used a program from the Celtic Daily Prayer book. Truly, if you want to be a witness to the Passion of Christ, there is no better way than walking the Stations of the Cross.
It was around Station 6 when Veronica wipes Jesus’ face that I got very emotional, so emotional in fact that I thought I would have to leave. I couldn’t speak—the words kept getting stuck in my throat. My vision blurred from the tears.
There is something so tender in this moment—it is something so small and yet filled with such love from both Veronica and Jesus. In this telling of the moment in the Celtic Daily Prayer book, Veronica wipes Jesus’ face, but Jesus doesn’t stand there passively. He is silent, yes, but his body language speaks volumes as he leans in to Veronica’s caress. He allows himself to experience this moment of love as he is dying, as he is suffering. It is Jesus at his most human, at his most vulnerable—he needs this from Veronica. And it is also Jesus at his most divine—no one understands love more than God, because God is love.
As I explained to everyone after we completed the Stations, it was emotional for me because my mom made Hope’s Stations. When Pastor Debbie mentioned years ago that she wanted Stations of the Cross at Hope, I asked my mom because I knew my mom could make something beautiful. My mom didn’t have the money for the supplies. She didn’t have the time. She was taking care of her father 24/7. She knew that if she made those Stations as I had asked her to, she would be sacrificing a lot.
But in the end, she didn’t hesitate.
She made those Stations simply because I had asked her to.
And the truly beautiful thing about those Stations of the Cross is that they were made out of love and they detail a journey of love as Jesus takes his walk to the cross.
When we walk the Stations of the Cross, we walk with Jesus, but when we get to the cross, Jesus goes alone.
In John 13:36, “Simon Peter said to him, ‘Lord, where are you going?’ Jesus answered, ‘Where I am going, you cannot follow …’”
Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross is his and his alone to make.
From Gethsemane to the cross, no one but Jesus is injured. Malchus, the servant who loses his ear to Peter’s sword, is healed by Jesus.
Barabbas is spared execution because Jesus effectively takes his place.
Even the thief, hanging on the cross next to Jesus, is promised paradise.
Peter denies Jesus three times and that is horrible and tragic and we can feel free to judge Peter all we want even though I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing. He feared for his life.
Notice that when Jesus tells Peter in John 13:38 that Peter will deny him, he doesn’t condemn Peter. He doesn’t shame him. He doesn’t ask him to try and change his future. Though Peter denying him undoubtably saddens Jesus, Jesus knows that that denial will save Peter’s life.
Peter who offered to lay down his life for Jesus—will live.
No one dies that day for Jesus.
But Jesus dies for everyone.
Even in death, Jesus is about life.
Look at today’s Gospel reading from Luke 24. The women return to the empty tomb and are greeted by two men in “dazzling clothes,” who say to the women in verse 5, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”
I just love those words. Superficially they mean one thing, specifically—Jesus isn’t here. Why are you looking in a tomb for someone who is alive?
But those words also have a much deeper meaning.
The Egyptians worshipped Osiris, the Greeks, Hades, the Romans, Pluto—all gods of the underworld, gods of the dead. The Norse have a goddess named Hel who rules over Helheim. Look throughout all of recorded history and you will find group after group, society after society, nation after nation, worshipping gods and goddesses of the dead.
But our God is the God of life. Our God is the God of love. Our God, whose presence is revealed in the sunrise, is the God of light. Our God has conquered both death and darkness.
And now—and now, what do we have to fear?
Jesus has walked the path before us.
He has walked every path before us.
And he has cleared the way.
“You cannot follow me now,” Jesus tells Peter in John 13:36, “but you will follow afterward.”
Jesus’ path to the cross was his and his alone to make, but his path following the resurrection is the path opened wide for all of us to take.
Amen.
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