Passiontide
In The Episcopal Church, the Sunday before Easter has a two-part name: The Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday. Although a mouthful, it accurately reflects the two different gospel readings we will hear this Sunday. The first, which is read during the Liturgy of the Palms, recalls Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem. The second, which is read immediately before the sermon, is the story of Jesus’ passion—his arrest, trial, crucifixion, and death. That is a lot to squeeze into one service, and, in a sense, that is the point.
Before the 1979 prayer book was adopted, however, our lectionary observed Passion Sunday a week earlier—on the Sunday before Palm Sunday. Following the ancient tradition of the Roman church, we celebrated Passiontide as a two-week miniature liturgical season, which began on the fifth Sunday in Lent. By starting a week early with readings that anticipate Jesus’ passion, the church was able to prepare for the Paschal Triduum—the three holy days of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Eve—more intently. In the late 1960s, however, the Roman Catholic Church removed Passion Sunday from its calendar, and, when our current prayer book and its lectionary were approved, we followed suit.
In some churches, the altar and processional crosses are draped in sheer purple fabric for Passion Sunday—an indication of the observance of Passiontide. At St. Paul’s, although we wait until Maundy Thursday to drape the crosses in black, we do not wait until Holy Week to begin hearing about Jesus’ death. Even though Passion Sunday and Palm Sunday have been rolled into one, you may have noticed that the readings for last week anticipate Jesus’ death by describing how Mary of Bethany anointed his feet in preparation for his burial. Truthfully, we have been anticipating the end of Lent ever since Ash Wednesday, and, regardless of what you call it, Jesus’ passion has never been far from our minds.
Still, there is something remarkable about journeying from the heights of Jesus’ adulation to the depths of his rejection in the span of thirty minutes. This week, at the 8:45 and 11:00 a.m. services, we will begin in the parking lot outside the Welcome Center. After reading through the Liturgy of the Palms with its “Hosanna in the highest!” we will follow a jazz band around the block, waving our palms and dancing as if we were celebrating Jesus’ arrival in our city. As we enter the church, we will sing Valet will ich dir geben, the traditional opening hymn for Palm Sunday, which proclaims, “All glory, laud, and honor to thee, Redeemer, King, to whom the lips of children made sweet hosannas ring.” The 7:30 a.m. service starts in the Guild Hall and, although there is no jazz band or hymn, we still begin joyfully.
When the lengthy passion gospel is read, the congregation begins by remaining seated and then stands solemnly at the mention of the Place of the Skull, where Jesus was crucified. When the gospel is finished, there is no congregational response; we simply return to our seats as if in stunned silence. To an outsider with no familiarity with the Christian tradition, that emotional rollercoaster could feel like whiplash. Those of us who have been on this journey from joyful praise to condemnatory exclamation many times before might take it for granted, but there is value to letting the strangeness of what we do stun us a little bit.
Sometimes clergy argue that we try to do too much all at once—that we should hear about Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday but save his passion for Good Friday. I have heard colleagues claim that the inclusion of the passion gospel on Palm Sunday is a modern accession to a culture in which people are not likely to come to church on Good Friday, but Anglican prayer book lectionaries have included the story of Jesus’ passion on Palm Sunday since the sixteenth century, as some versions of the Roman Catholic lectionary have done since medieval times. In a way, Palm Sunday has always been a Sunday of Jesus’ passion.
As Holy Week begins, I invite you to make time each day for this profound journey. Start with Palm Sunday and its rapid change from an experience of joy to an encounter with pain. Allow the challenging words of the passion gospel to propel you into the rest of the week. Join us for Morning Prayer each day and for Evening Prayer on Monday, Tuesday, and Friday. Come hear Sara preach at the last Soup and Sermon offering at Central United Methodist Church on Tuesday, and join us for the last Ancient Roots that same night. Participate in Community Meals foot-washing on Wednesday morning and come to the Healing Eucharist at noon or to the casual Eucharist on Wednesday night.
As the Triduum begins on Thursday evening, make this final stretch of your Lenten journey a priority for your spiritual life. Make sure to join us at 7:00 p.m. on Maundy Thursday for the celebration of the institution of the Holy Eucharist, the optional congregational foot-washing, and the stripping of the altar. Come back on Friday at noon for the liturgy that day, and return again that night for our Good Friday concert. Wake up and worship with us on Saturday morning with the brief and stark Holy Saturday liturgy, and stay around to help set up for the Easter Vigil. Make sure to come back at 8:00 p.m. as we keep vigil, waiting to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, and then return on Sunday morning as we celebrate to joy of Easter Day. Although we do not have a public service on Easter evening, finish your journey by joining on the road to Emmaus as you say Evening Prayer that night.
Every year, I make the same promise: if you take part in all the services of the Paschal Triduum—from Maundy Thursday through Easter Day—your life will be changed. I believe that. There is something special about setting aside so much time for that sacred journey. When we offer ourselves again to the mystery of Christ’s passion, death, and resurrection, we experience rebirth within ourselves. I hope you will experience it with us at St. Paul’s.
Yours faithfully,
Evan D. Garner
