It’s Holy Week in the Atlantic community. On Palm Sunday we remember Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey – a symbol of a peaceful leader. Warriors rode horses; peaceful men rode donkeys. The crowd waved palm branches and called out, “Hosanna!” which means, “Lord, save us.”
Jesus taught in the temple Monday, then celebrated the Passover, washed his disciples’ feet, taught his final lessons, and prayed through the night on Thursday. We call this Maundy Thursday, “Maundy” being Latin for “mandatum,” which means “commandment.” Jesus commanded us to love one another in John 13:34.
There will be silent communion offered at Fallowfield United Methodist Church from 9 a.m. until 8 p.m. on Maundy Thursday. This is a special way to commemorate the holiness of the day.
Good Friday has to be the worst day of the year for me. I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m always racked with guilt on Good Friday. I’m such a sinful woman. I struggle most with harsh criticism of myself and others, whether spoken or unspoken.
I’m terrible! Here are some examples of my critical thoughts: “Wow. Can’t you get out of your pajamas before going to the store, lady?” Or “Nice turn signal, jerk!”
I spit out a curse word when I stub my toe or hit a pothole. I can’t forgive others for hurting me in a way I would never hurt them: deceiving, controlling, or leaving me.
Wow. It’s so hard to face my faults, even though I berate myself for them every day. I’ve been a Christian since I was four years old, but I cannot seem to overcome my default setting: criticism and perfectionism.
And I’m only one follower of Jesus. He died for everyone who believed, believes, or will believe on Him for salvation. Only a sinless blood sacrifice could wash the blackness of sin away in God’s eyes. So Jesus had to die. But that doesn’t make it any easier. No one ever died a more painful death than Jesus.
His execution was the most unjust thing that ever happened in human history. Even Pilate, a man who had no sympathy for Jesus (he ordered him flogged just to placate the crowd) saw him as innocent.
People who don’t believe in Jesus might consider his actions on Good Friday cowardly. After all, he handed himself over to Jewish authorities in the garden. He let them accuse him, slap him, insult him, and spit on him. He permitted soldiers to strike his head with a staff repeatedly and crown him with thorns. He allowed Romans to whip him almost to death and nail him to a cross.
Crucifixion was the death penalty for criminals, and illegal for Roman citizens. Paul allowed himself to be beaten by Jewish leaders, stoned, beaten with rods by rioting crowds in Philippi, and much more. But when Romans stretched him out to be flogged and interrogated, he told the centurion he was a Roman. (Acts 22:24-28) Roman citizenship exempted most citizens from crucifixion, and they weren’t allowed to be flogged without being accused.
Roman floggings were so awful that I can’t bear to think about it. I forced myself to watch “The Passion of the Christ” 13 years ago, but I ran out of the room, crouched on the floor, and sobbed during the flagellation scene. I couldn’t bear it.
I’ve often noticed it rains on Good Friday. When I was a little girl I used to think God was crying on Good Friday. Maybe he is. I know I will be.
There’s a Good Friday service at 7 p.m. at Fallowfield United Methodist Church. I hope you will spend Good Friday reflecting on Jesus’ sacrifice and will attend a church service. At the very least, read John 18 and 19, and sing “Were You There?” This spiritual perfectly encapsulates the sorrow of Jesus’ death. The haunting melody gives me a chill. I can hardly sing it without sobbing.
Imagine slaves singing that in the fields, knowing full well any infraction could give overseers the excuse to tie them to the whipping post. They must’ve identified with Jesus on a level I’m grateful to God I cannot.
The Bible is silent about Holy Saturday. All we know is Jews would’ve rested, since it was Sabbath. I imagine the disciples either hid together in one house or scattered. The women may have congregated together, consoling each other and weeping. They must’ve felt bereft. Jesus’ corpse lay in the tomb all day. Jesus’ spirit must’ve gone to heaven, since he told the thief on the cross, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:43 NIV)
The most important event in human history occurred the following morning before dawn in a cemetery, where two temple guards kept watch. An angel rolled the enormous stone aside. I’ve imagined Jesus’ resurrection hundreds of times. What did it look like? Did he simply sit up, remove the blood-soaked shroud, fold his face cloth, and walk out? Did angels bring him a clean robe? Did God himself descend to the tomb and breathe life into his Son’s corpse? Did the angel bow in his presence? Was there an explosion of light inside the tomb when Jesus arose? Did he go to the Mount of Olives to pray until he appeared to Mary Magdalene? Did he still look Jewish, or were his hair and eyes a different color than when he was human? Everyone struggled to recognize him. He must’ve looked different in his resurrected body. I don’t believe he looked as he will in heaven, but he must’ve looked more like his heavenly body than his human form.
The resurrected Christ spoke to Mary Magdalene, Peter, John, the Emmaus Road disciples, and the ten apostles who assembled in an upper room that evening. (See John 20.)
Take time this week to read the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ last week on earth and his resurrection. You can find these in Matthew 26-28, Mark 14-16, Luke 22-24, and John 18-20. Take time to pray and praise. Go to church on Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Maybe even imagine the events of Resurrection Sunday, as some call it.
May God bless you this Holy Week and may the joy of Jesus’ resurrection fill you with hope.