The Week that was, that is, and always will be

I’ve always been a bit of a history buff. Whether it be the early days of this country, great historical figures such as George Washington or Abraham Lincoln, Renaissance artists or British royalty such as King Henry VIII and his multiple wives (now there’s a story for you) or Martin Luther and the Protestant Reformation, history is its own teacher. But, we say that was then and this is now.

This Holy Week is rich in profound history. A week made holy because of the One who gave his life for us – Christ, Our Lord. Fifty two weeks in the year and God chose only one to change the course of history for all time. However, we may be tempted to remember these past events only as events of the past: Jesus’ last supper that tragic Thursday night, his arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane conspired by his own Benedict Arnold – Judas, his bogus trial before Pontius Pilate, his unjust torture and death on the cross. We recall those dark hours in his life and they are past events for sure. They happened in a specific time, in a particular place and were immersed in the faith and traditions of an ancient Jewish culture. They took place in a specific season of the year (early spring), surrounded by people now long dead.

But, unlike our read of ancient documents and history books, these moments of high drama in the life of Christ are yet alive and present among us today. Their future effect, not just in our liturgy but in the events themselves, will live on far beyond our time for generations of Christians yet to be born.

This week assures us the God of the past, who spoke through the ancient prophets, is the same God today who continues to speak through the leaders and events of our time, and will be the same God who’s Word will continue to live in a time beyond our own.

It all began this Sunday with Jesus triumphant entrance to Jerusalem. Yet, he knew that it was in essence his death march; that the singing voices of “Hosanna in the highest,” would soon loose their enthusiasm and that victory would come only through his suffering. Not long, perhaps only hours before the first palms were raised in joy, the dead Lazarus walked out of his tomb -- alive again. Wonder and awe overtook the crowds and in particular those who were filled with hatred and revolutionary zeal to overthrow the Romans who occupied their land. With the power Jesus had just imagine the possibilities. The frenzy of the crowd that first Palm Sunday must have been infectious.

And so, Jesus signed his death warrant as he well knew the lust of certain leaders to bring his demise. The excitable crowd was their last straw – something needed to be done to end the life of this revolutionary preacher before they loose their country all together and incite further anarchy.

On Thursday, memorialized with exceptional joy, we receive the gift of the Eucharist and that of the Priesthood. Jesus’ words, “Take and eat – Take and drink: my body, my blood -- Do this in remembrance of me,” reach through the barrier of time and space. Each Mass recalls that supper but in a singular way, this Holy Thursday we are joined to Christ and his Apostles in that upper room. What does it teach us? See Jesus’ wash the feet of his beloved disciples, even that of Judas his betrayer, and we learn the full meaning of our lives as a Eucharistic people – “As I have done, so you must do.”

Then Friday made Good by the good and gracious God. The cross, an instrument of hideous torture, becomes the eternal sign of reconciliation between God and humanity. In the stark and unadorned liturgy of Good Friday, a favorite of mine, we stand at the foot of the cross dazed, exhausted, filled with emotion. We will never know the depth of Mary’s suffering as she joined her passion to that of her Son. As we venerate the cross in our Churches we cannot help but feel moved to know that his sacrifice was for us. Once for all – like the waves of a tsunami which push outward with nothing to stop them, the transforming power of Jesus’ sacrifice and death flood every space of time: past, present and future.

If it were not for the passion, death, and resurrection of Christ, we would all be filled with despair and the voices of denial, of leading atheists such as Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins, whose militant views of science over faith see religion and the God question as absurd and childish, would be heroes for our time. They preach a Gospel of self-absorption, egotism, and pride. Christ preaches love, reconciliation, humility, peace, hope, servanthood and life beyond this life. For those who deny a reality beyond this one, when you’re dead, you’re dead. Christ's faith teaches, when you die, you just begin.

The opening words at the core liturgical celebration of our faith – the Easter Vigil – summarize the God of all ages. As the new paschal candle is prepared to be raised like Christ and burn for the next 50 days before our altars, we hear: “Christ yesterday and today; the beginning and the end; all times and seasons belong to Him – the Alpha and the Omega.” This is the week that was, that is, and will be forever.

We join as one in these holy days.