Resurrection

Two years ago today, with most of the Boston area shut down, a friend in the year above me at college asked on Twitter, "Is there a precedent that says Boston will be okay?"

I replied, "Today is the 18th anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing. As someone who grew up in OKC, I believe we'll be okay."

Today it has been twenty years, and it has been two. April 19th for me will always mean Oklahoma City, will always mean 168 seconds of silence at 9:02 am CDT, but I was far too young to remember. Two years ago, I was here, not so far from Boston. I don't know how I could forget.

It's important to remember. But what came out in my friend's question was hope for recovery, and as Easter people our hope is not only for recovery but for resurrection. I grew up in a city that was and is living out a resurrection story.

We are changed because new life is indeed new. We do not forget, but we grow and we live.

Learn of Christ to Bear the Cross

One of my favorite Holy Week hymns (and I love a lot of them) is "Go to dark Gethsemane" by James Montgomery. At Tenebrae tonight we read from St. Augustine's treatise on the Psalms in which he writes about understanding the trials of the psalmist and joining the psalmist in those trials through prayer:"Let us now see under what evil he lies; and when he begins to speak, let us place ourselves beside him, that, by sharing his tribulation, we may also join in his prayer." That really reminded me of this hymn; the last line of each verse focuses on something we can learn from Christ in the experience of Holy Week.

Go to dark Gethsemane, 
ye that feel the tempter's power; 
your Redeemer's conflict see, 
watch with him one bitter hour. 
Turn not from his griefs away; 
learn of Jesus Christ to pray. 

When Christ went to pray, he told Peter, James, and John also to watch and pray that they would "not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." (Matthew 26:41) The disciples fell asleep time after time, but Jesus prayed and grieved through the weakness of the flesh. Christ did not sin, but he was tempted as one of us. One of the readings from the Letter to the Hebrews tonight emphasized this: "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin." (Hebrews 4:15)

Holy Monday

Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but

first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he 

was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way 

of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and 

peace; through the same thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord, who 

liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, 

for ever and ever. Amen.

-- Book of Common Prayer, Collect for Holy Monday

During Holy Week, the liturgies do not include a dismissal. We are still sent out, but we also remain in the worship service from Sunday to Sunday. We do not skip from Palm Sunday to Easter or even from Palm Sunday to the Triduum to Easter. The journey lasts the full week.

Blest are those who from this table

Live their lives in gratitude.

Taste and see the grace eternal.

Taste and see that God is good.

-- Sylvia Dunstan

Sanctus

Holy, holy, holy Lord,
God of power and might,
Heaven and earth are full of your glory,
Hosanna in the highest.
Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.
Hosanna in the highest.

Hosanna.

It's the cry of a crowd that was horribly wrong about the nature of their Lord and the scope of the salvation to come. But with each Eucharist we nevertheless sing this hymn. Their expectations were wrong, but their song was true. Hosanna. Save us, a praise to the One who will save and a plea for deliverance. They were in need of a savior, and we stand in need of Christ still. Christ is still the One who comes in the name of the Lord, the One who is God Incarnate to deliver us, the One who was pierced for our transgressions and crushed for our iniquities.

Holy, holy, holy, Lord. We strive for relationship with God who created us and all the world in power and might, the God in whose image we are made. When we turned away and our love failed, God's love remained steadfast. (Service of Word & Table II) Through all our cycles of apostasy, God loved, God loves, and God will love. And so God, whose glory fills all that is, whom we characterize by power and might, became flesh. This is He who comes in the name of the Lord.

We are always in need of God's grace, so we call out, "Hosanna," and God saves.

Hungarian Hymns: Grant Me Tranquility

I spent last semester in Hungary, and I have a Hungarian hymnal, "Az Úrnak zengjen az ének." This hymn, "Adj már csendességet" by Balassi Bálint, is the first in the Lenten section of the hymnal. The title translates as "Grant me tranquility." Here's a video of the hymn:

During Lent, I've been singing the Psalms, and something I like about this hymn is that it feels very Psalm-like in topic and tone. It goes from lament about circumstances to mourning sin to trust in and praise of the Lord. Here are some of my favorite lines in both Hungarian and English (translation by Szirtes George):

Sok ideje immár, hogy lelkem szomjan  vár mentségére, 
Őrizd, ne hadd, ébreszd, haragod ne gerjeszd vesztségére! 

Through long years of penitence,

my spirit craved sustenance, desiring salvation;

Shield me and watch with me,

let not your enmity cause my damnation.

Nem kicsiny munkával, fiad halálával váltottál meg. 

Not without labour you saved me, my saviour, through death of your son.

Nem kell kételkednem, sőt jót reménlenem igéd szerint, 

Megadod kedvesen, mit ígérsz kegyesen hitem szerint.

Why should I doubt,

when despair is cast out in trust of your word;

Freely you’ll grant me

the grace not denied me, the faithful’s reward.

Repülvén áldjalak, élvén imádjalak vétek nélkül, 

Kit jól gyakorolván, haljak meg nyugodván, bú s kín nélkül!

Flying, I’d bless you,

adoring address you, my trespass defying,

Thus practiced in flight,

my soul being healed might I rise in my dying.

Taste and See the Grace Eternal

"All Who Hunger, Gather Gladly" is a communion hymn by Sylvia Dunstan. It's in The Faith We Sing, and I love its focus on community and grace.

All who hunger, gather gladly;
holy manna is our bread.
Come from wilderness and wandering.
Here, in truth, we will be fed.
You that yearn for days of fullness,
all around us is our food.
Taste and see the grace eternal.
Taste and see that God is good.

The Glory of These Forty Days

The United Methodist Hymnal doesn't have many Lent-specific hymns outside of the Holy Week section, which is a shame. "The Glory of These Forty Days" isn't in the UMH or any of the supplements, but it's in the Catholic Missal and the Hymnal 1982 (Episcopal).

The glory of these forty days
We celebrate with songs of praise;
For Christ, by Whom all things were made,
Himself has fasted and has prayed.

So often we don't think of Lent as a season of celebration or a time of glory. It's solemn and somber, a contrast to Easter following it. We bury alleluias during Lent! Nevertheless, though, a season of introspection and cleansing should be joyful. I'm reading through Mark, and I recently read the section in which Jesus tells the Pharisees that "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath." Lent is a gift to us just as the Sabbath is. Lent is a time to look to the model of Christ, fully God and thus Creator, in fasting and prayer. As we seek to be renewed in God's image, we follow the example of God Incarnate.