Because the newly public message which is the good news of Easter is at one and the same time so obvious – the message of new creation, which answers the deepest longings of the whole cosmos – and so utterly unexpected that if we are to announce God in public in these terms, as Paul did so spectacularly at Athens, we need the preceding private stillness to rinse our minds out of preconceived notions and make ready for God’s startling new world. Note, by the way, that it is the public truth of Easter – the dangerous, strikingly political truth that the living God is remaking the world and claiming full sovereignty over it – that has been for two hundred years the real objection, in western thinking, to the notion that Jesus rose bodily from the tomb. Western thought has wanted to keep Christianity as private truth only, to turn the Lion of Judah into a tame pussy-cat, an elegant and inoffensive, if occasionally mysterious, addition to the family circle.

And part of the point of where we are today, culturally, socially, politically and religiously, is that we don’t have that option any more. We face a dangerous and deeply challenging future in the next few years, as the demons we’ve unleashed in the Middle East are not going to go back into their bag, as the ecological nightmares we’ve created take their toll, as the people who make money by looking after our money have now lost their own money and perhaps ours as well, as our cultural and artistic worlds flail around trying to catch the beauty and sorrow of the world and often turning them into ugliness and trivia. And we whose lives and thinking and praying and preaching are rooted in and shaped by these great four days – we who stand up dangerously before God and one another and say we are ready to hear and obey his call once more – we have to learn what it means to announce the public truth of Easter, consequent upon the public truth of Good Friday and itself shaped by it (as the mark of the nails bear witness), as the good news of God for all the world, not just for those who meet behind locked doors. Every eye shall see him, and all the tribes of the earth will mourn as they realise the public truth of his Easter victory. But we can only learn that in the quiet privacy around the Lord’s Table, and the humble stillness where we lay aside our own agendas, our own temperamental preferences, in the darkness of Holy Saturday. When we say Yes to the questions we shall be asked in a few minutes’ time, we are saying Yes to this rhythm, this shaping, of our private devotion to our Lord, our private waiting on him in the silence, in order to say Yes as well to this rhythm, this shaping, of our public ministry, our living out of the gospel before the principalities and powers, our working with the grain of the world where we can and against the grain of the world where we must.

Read it all.

Maundy Thursday: “If I then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet; ye also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you” (John 13:14-15, KJV). English 15thC Book of Hours [MS 459] #MaundyThursday #HolyWeek pic.twitter.com/r4HDFOSw9N

— LambethPalaceLibrary (@lampallib) April 18, 2019

O Christ, the true vine and the source of life, ever giving thyself that the world may live; who also hast taught us that those who would follow thee must be ready to lose their lives for thy sake: Grant us so to receive within our souls the power of thine eternal sacrifice, that in sharing thy cup we may share thy glory, and at the last be made perfect in thy love.

Today is #MaundyThursday, the day we remember the Last Supper.

The name is derived from the word mandatum, meaning to command, and recalls the words of Jesus to his disciples after washing their feet: ‘A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another’ (John 13:34) pic.twitter.com/u4rIZQGETa

— Westminster Abbey (@wabbey) April 18, 2019

You can listen directly there and download the mp3 there.

The #gardenofgethsemane by Carl Block, the acclaimed Danish artist. A moving and tender image whether you have a faith or none pic.twitter.com/T5g423VzqI

— Beech Genealogy (@GenealogyBeech) April 13, 2017

From Rod Whitacre here:

In the story of the footwashing, then, we have the most profound revelation of the heart of God apart from the crucifixion itself. We also learn more of the relation between Jesus and his disciples, the relation of the disciples with one another in humble service and the mission of the disciples to the world. These themes are similar to those of the Eucharist developed earlier (see comments on 6:52-59). The community that Jesus has been forming here takes more definite shape, revealing more clearly “the law of its being” (Bultmann 1971:479), which is humble, self-sacrificing love.

#MaundyThursday Woodcut of the Last Supper from a Sarum Missal (Paris, 1527) [Sion A34.3a/Sa7 1527] pic.twitter.com/LVKs70ZApL

— LambethPalaceLibrary (@lampallib) March 29, 2018

Where charity and love are, God is there

Where charity and love are, God is there.
Christ’s love has gathered us into one.
Let us rejoice and be pleased in Him.
Let us fear, and let us love the living God.
And may we love each other with a sincere heart

Where charity and love are, God is there.
As we are gathered into one body,
Beware, lest we be divided in mind.
Let evil impulses stop, let controversy cease,
And may Christ our God be in our midst.

WHERE charity and love are, God is there.
And may we with the saints also,
See Thy face in glory, O Christ our God:
The joy that is immense and good,
Unto the ages through infinite ages. Amen.

A #MaundyThursday healing miracle performed by the monastic reformer St Gilbert of Sempringham (1083-1189). #medieval #histmed pic.twitter.com/nmboh9rc24

— Katherine Harvey (@keharvey2013) April 13, 2017

A collect for #MaundyThursday #HolyWeek #Lent: pic.twitter.com/dzidifryWf

— Church of England (@c_of_e) April 13, 2017

As is our custom, we aim to let go of the cares and concerns of this world until Monday and to focus on the great, awesome, solemn and holy events of the next three days. I would ask people to concentrate their comments on the personal, devotional, and theological aspects of these days which will be our focal point here. Many thanks–KSH.

#MaundyThursday is a medieval anglicisation of opening lines of service for the day, ‘mandatum novum’ – ‘new commandment’ (John 13:34) pic.twitter.com/4v1pxShHmw

— Amy Jeffs (@amyjeffs0) April 13, 2017

Blessed Lord Jesus, who, when about to depart out of this world, having loved thine own, and loving them to the end, didst institute the holy sacrament of thy Body and Blood, the dying legacy of thy love: Vouchsafe, we earnestly pray thee, that we may never draw near thine altar, save with hearts enkindled by love for thee and for one another; for thy dear name’s sake.

#MaundyThursday#WielkiCzwartek
Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.. pic.twitter.com/ZXFwzVBO8k

— Little My 🌹 (@KrysiaMy) April 18, 2019

O Lord Jesus Christ, who on this day didst wash thy disciples’ feet, leaving us an example of humble service: Grant that our souls may be washed from all defilement, and that we fail not to serve thee in the least of thy brethren; who livest and reignest for ever and ever.

Today, we commemorate Jesus Christ sharing the Last Supper with his disciples. Before they ate, Jesus washed his disciples feet in order to demonstrate the importance of serving others.

'I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.'#MaundyThursday pic.twitter.com/bBwhUQtjGJ

— St Aloysius' College (@StAlsGlasgow) April 18, 2019

Evangelicals need to thicken our theology of the Lord’s Supper, first by drawing more of the Bible into the discussion of the Supper, and second by drawing more of the Supper into discussion of the Supper.

Even a fine recent treatment of Reformed sacramental theology, Todd Billings’s Remembrance, Communion, and Hope, is still too thin on both counts. Billings does discuss the key New Testament passages—the institution narratives, Jesus’ resurrection meals, 1 Corinthians 10-11—and makes passing references to Passover and other Old Testament passages, meals, and festivals. But the richness of Old Testament theology still feels lacking. Billings observes that Paul sees manna as a type of the church’s covenant meal, but he doesn’t follow up the clue. If manna is a type, might there be others?

Many examine the Supper through a “zoom lens,” focusing narrowly on the most disputed point in historic debates—the metaphysics of the bread and wine. Much to his credit, Billings pulls back the camera to give us a wider view. In several “congregational snapshots,” he reminds us that the Supper involves people gathered to say and do, eat and drink. He rightly shows that a theology of the Supper must be integrated with the theology of the church.

But we need an even wider angle. Communion bread doesn’t fall from heaven. Wine doesn’t come tricklin’ down the rock. As one Eucharistic prayer puts it, the bread and wine are “fruit of the earth and the work of human hands.” Bread and wine represent nature transformed into culture by human action. A thick theology of the Supper needs to broaden beyond the theology of the church into a theology of culture. So, I offer a suggestive, not definitive, picture of what a thicker theology of the Supper might look like—a pencil drawing, not a portrait.

Read it all.

Today is #MaundyThursday the day that our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ washed the feet of his disciple, preformed the last supper and commanded that you must “Love one another. As I have loved you” John 13:34. May God bless you all this day and every day to come. #HolyWeek pic.twitter.com/QKa3Fh8ipk

— Ian Parker (@IanParker24) April 18, 2019

Wow. Jean Vanier gets to the very core of the incarnation w this one. Happy Holy Thursday. pic.twitter.com/IlRzo3b8KE

— Jeremy Zipple (@jzipple) April 18, 2019

O Lord Jesus Christ, enthroned in the majesty of heaven, who, when thou camest forth from God, didst make thyself as one that serveth: We adore thee because thou didst lay aside the garment of thy glory, and gird thyself with lowest humility, and minister to thy disciples, washing their feet. Teach us to know what thou hast done and to follow thine example; deliver us from pride, jealousy and ambition, and make us ready to be subject one to another, and with lowliness to serve one another for thy sake, O Jesus Christ, our Lord and Saviour.

–Prayers for the Christian Year (SCM, 1964)

“No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.”

Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”

 “Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!”

Icon by Egyptian artist Isaac Fanous#MaundyThursday #HolyWeek #Lent pic.twitter.com/Y17D01343Q

— BAME Anglican (@BAMEAnglican) April 18, 2019

Assist us mercifully with thy help, O Lord God of our salvation, that we may enter with joy upon the meditation of those mighty acts whereby thou hast given us life and immortality; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Christianity had revealed to the world a momentous truth: that to be a victim might be a source of strength. No one in modern times saw this more clearly than the religion’s most brilliant and unsparing critic. Because of Christianity, wrote Friedrich Nietzsche, ‘the measure of a man’s compassion for the lowly and suffering comes to be the measure of the loftiness of his soul’. The commanding heights of western culture may now be occupied by people who dismiss Christianity as superstition; but their instincts and assumptions remain no less Christian for that. If God is indeed dead, then his shadow, immense and dreadful, continues to flicker even as his corpse lies cold. The risen Christ cannot be eluded simply by refusing to believe in him. That the persecuted and disadvantaged have claims upon the privileged — widely taken for granted though it may be today across the West — is not remotely a self-evident truth. Condemnations of Christianity as patriarchal or repressive or hegemonic derive from a framework of values that is itself nothing if not Christian.

Familiarity with the Easter story has desensitised us to what both Paul and Nietzsche, in their very different ways, instinctively recognised in it: a scandal. The cross, that ancient tool of imperial power, remains what it has always been: the fitting symbol of a transfiguration in the affairs of humanity as profound and far-reaching as any in history. ‘God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.’ It is the audacity of it — the audacity of finding in a twisted and defeated corpse the glory of the creator of the universe — that serves to explain, more surely than anything else, the sheer strangeness of Christianity, and of the civilisation to which it gave birth.

Today, the power of this strangeness remains as alive as it has ever been. It is manifest in the great surge of conversions that has swept Africa and Asia over the past century; in the conviction of millions upon millions that the breath of the Spirit, like a living fire, still blows upon the world; and, in Europe and North America, in the assumptions of many more millions who would never think to describe themselves as Christian. All are heirs to the same revolution:
a revolution that has, at its molten heart, the image of a god dead upon an implement of torture.

Read it all.

Possibly the best thing you’ll read on #NotreDameFire and Easter this year – by @holland_tom https://t.co/vpRNFxSzeS

— Graham Tomlin (@gtomlin) April 17, 2019

O Lord, who didst spend this day in quiet retreat at Bethany, in preparation for thy coming passion: Help us ever to live mindful of our end; that when thou shalt call us to pass through the valley of the shadow of death, we may fear no evil, for thou art with us, who didst die that we might live with thee for ever.

The Wednesday of Holy Week, sometimes called ‘Spy Wednesday’, is traditionally considered to be the day on which Judas went to betray Christ for thirty pieces of silver. There’s a fascinating Middle English poem about Judas’ betrayal, dating to the end of the thirteenth century, which gives us an unusual take on the story: Judas is forced into betraying Christ to regain money which has been stolen from him.

The poem tells how Judas is sent by Jesus to buy food for the apostles with thirty pieces of silver, but on the way he meets his sister, who berates him for supporting a false prophet. She lulls him to sleep, and when he wakes up the silver has been stolen. Judas, in despair at having lost the money Jesus entrusted to him, is taken before Pilate, who asks him what it will take to make him betray his lord. Judas says he will never betray Christ, except to regain the thirty pieces of silver. The poem doesn’t tell us what happens next – a very pregnant pause – but the scene cuts to Christ and the apostles dining together. Christ tells them that one of them has betrayed him, and Judas denies it. Peter speaks up to deny it too, but Christ tells him “Peter, I know you well; you will forsake me three times before the cock crows”.

Read it all and make sure to read and ponder the translation of the poem.

On ‘Spy Wednesday’ of Holy Week, a 13th-century English poem with an unusual story about Judas’ betrayal https://t.co/0lAy9tYn3m pic.twitter.com/INwcbfZf3c

— Eleanor Parker (@ClerkofOxford) April 17, 2019

O God our heavenly Father, who to redeem the world didst deliver up thine only Son to be betrayed by one of his disciples and sold to his enemies: Take from us, we beseech thee, all covetousness and hypocrisy; and so strengthen us, that, loving thee above all things, we may remain steadfast in our faith unto the end; through him who gave his life for us, our Saviour Jesus Christ.

Wednesday of Holy Week. pic.twitter.com/fXvO0Da56i

— G.S. White (@rokki_isi) April 17, 2019

Lord God, whose blessed Son, our Saviour, gave his back to the smiters, and hid not his face from shame: Grant us grace to take joyfully the sufferings of the present time, in full assurance of the glory that shall be revealed; through the same thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord.

O Lord Jesu Christ, who as on this day of the Holy Week didst teach the people in the temple at Jerusalem, and also instruct thy disciples on the Mount of Olives: Grant us the ready mind at all times to learn what thou wouldest teach us, that thy word may dwell in us richly in all wisdom; for the glory of thy holy name.

Lord Jesus, who as on this day didst curse the fig tree bearing leaves, and nothing but leaves: Grant that we, warned by this example, may never seek to make a fair show in the flesh, but strive to bring forth the fruit of a holy and godly life, acceptable in thy sight; who with the Father and the Holy Ghost art one God, world without end.

You can listen directly there and download the mp3 there.

When a man/woman/church/diocese finds the right vocation under God, it is as if a caged eagle soars — Bishop Mark Lawrence #Assembly2017 pic.twitter.com/yLkLMLj51G

— Kimberley Pfeiler (@CanonKimberley) June 27, 2017

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.

As on this day we keep the special memory of our Redeemer’s entry into the city, so grant, O Lord, that now and ever he may triumph in our hearts. Let the King of grace and glory enter in, and let us lay ourselves and all we are in full and joyful homage before him; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord.

–Handley Moule (1841-1920)

Entry of Christ into Jerusalem (1320) by Pietro Lorenzetti The south transept (the south arm of the western transept) of the Lower Church in the San Francesco at Assisi was decorated by Pietro Lorenzetti from the vault down to the floor with scenes from the Passion #PalmSunday pic.twitter.com/u3aLvM8559

— HistoryandHeritageYorkshire (@GenealogyBeech) April 14, 2019

If we try to follow Jesus in faith and hope and love on his journey to the cross, we will find that the hurricane of love which we tremblingly call God will sweep in from a fresh angle, fulfilling our dreams by first shattering them, bringing something new out of the dangerous combination of personal hopes and cultural pressures. We mustn’t be surprised if in this process there are moments when it feels as though we are being sucked down to the depths, five hundred miles from shore amid hundred-foot waves, weeping for the dream that has had to die, for the kingdom that isn’t coming the way we wanted. That is what it’s like when we are caught up in Jesus’s perfect storm.

But be sure, when that happens, when you say with the disciples on the road to Emmaus, “We had hoped … but now it’s all gone wrong,” that you are on the verge of hearing the fresh word – the word that comes when the storm is stilled, and in the new great calm we see a way forward we had never imagined. “Foolish ones,” said Jesus, “and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets had spoken! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and so enter into his glory?”

Who knows what might happen if each of us were to approach Holy Week and Good Friday praying humbly for the powerful fresh wind of God to blow into that combination of cultural pressure and personal aspiration, so that we each might share in the sufferings of the Messiah and come through into the new life he longs to give us.

Read it all.

“Palm branches are glorious boughs which tell of victory; yea, the Lord was now ready by His Own Death to trample down death, and to carry the victorious banner of His Cross in triumph over the devil, the prince of death.” – St Augustine #PalmSunday pic.twitter.com/BvgXD9dPTV

— Fr. Kevin M. Cusick, LCDR (Ret.) (@MCITLFrAphorism) April 13, 2019

O Christ, the King of glory, who didst enter the holy city in meekness to be made perfect through the suffering of death: Give us grace, we beseech thee, in all our life here to take up our cross daily and follow thee, that hereafter we may rejoice with thee in thy heavenly kingdom; who livest and reignest with the Father and the Holy Spirit, God, world without end.

‘Nu sceole we healdan urne palm…’: an Anglo-Saxon sermon for Palm Sunday https://t.co/h4hm9Y5pdw pic.twitter.com/JR6XRAuLqm

— Eleanor Parker (@ClerkofOxford) April 14, 2019

You can listen directly here and download the mp3 there.

Without a doubt, at the center of the New Testament there stands the Cross, which receives its interpretation from the Resurrection.

The Passion narratives are the first pieces of the Gospels that were composed as a unity. In his preaching at Corinth, Paul initially wants to know nothing but the Cross, which “destroys the wisdom of the wise and wrecks the understanding of those who understand”, which “is a scandal to the Jews and foolishness to the gentiles”. But “the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men” (I Cor 1:19, 23, 25).

Whoever removes the Cross and its interpretation by the New Testament from the center, in order to replace it, for example, with the social commitment of Jesus to the oppressed as a new center, no longer stands in continuity with the apostolic faith.

–Hans Urs von Balthasar (1905-1988), A Short Primer For Unsettled Laymen

#Easter2018 After the darkness of Lent and Holy Week, Hereford Cathedral is flooded with light and full of flowers on this Easter Sunday morning. As seen through the artistic lens of choral scholar Mark Laseter @engcathedrals @c_of_e @HerefordDiocese pic.twitter.com/qCdqsThAfp

— Hereford Cathedral (@HFDCathedral) April 1, 2018

All night had shout of men, and cry
Of woeful women filled His way;
Until that noon of sombre sky
On Friday, clamour and display
Smote Him; no solitude had He,
No silence, since Gethsemane.

Public was Death; but Power, but Might,
But Life again, but Victory,
Were hushed within the dead of night,
The shutter’d dark, the secrecy.
And all alone, alone, alone,
He rose again behind the stone.

–Alice Meynell (1847-1922)

There’s a rumour, a whisper. Something’s happening. Could it be? #HolySaturday @gandkchurch @cofe pic.twitter.com/4xJz6oTEpv

— Craig J Huxley (@CraigJHuxley) April 15, 2017

The feathers of the birds made the air soft, softer

than the quiet in a cocoon waiting for wings,

stiller than the stare of a hooded falcon.

–Barbara Ras (1949– ), “A Book Said Dream and I Do”