Holy Week

Yesterday I had a meeting with Bishop Taylor of the Episcopal Diocese of Western North Carolina. My priest Rev. Brian Cole and I went to announce to the bishop that I feel called to pursue a life of ordained ministry.

It felt good, and right, to say in a very official way "I want to be a priest. I have felt called to live my life for ministry in some form or fashion since I was a a young girl. Every time I go to church, I am distracted because all I can think during the service is 'I want to be up there, I want to serve communion.' I want to teach, love, and minister to God's people in the highs, lows, and mundanes of their lives."

Bishop Taylor responded by saying that he did feel like the Holy Spirit was moving in my life, but now is not the time to discern that call. He asked me to come see him after the baby is born and we will look at starting the process then. He stated (wisely, I think) that my life is changing and who I am now is not who I will be after the baby is born. He said I should focus on taking on the role of motherhood first and then we will look at the role of priesthood and how it fits into my life as wife and mother. I half expected this answer and was not shocked or disappointed. In fact, I left feeling very encouraged and at peace. Upon parting, the Bishop said something to the effect of "So I'll see you at the Maundy Thursday service tonight, right?" My answer, of course, was "Absolutely," regardless of any earlier intentions for my evening (which consisted of staying home and trying not to ralph, like all my other nights lately).

I've somehow missed Maundy Thursday services up until this point. I didn't know what to expect by I knew that it was going to be about the Last Supper. This appealed to me because communion has always been the part of the service that I enjoyed the most. I love the physical, visceral act of eating and becoming one with Christ and the Christian community. I could never feel completely at home at a church that did not celebrate communion at least every Sunday.

The service was beautiful and poignant. It brought home the fact that Jesus showed us that if He who is perfect is not too perfect to wash feet then how are we to say we are above even the dirtiest tasks needed to care for one another? I spent a large portion of the service realizing that Jesus' death has never been a cause for mourning in me. I always saw it as an action of perfect submission to God's will and the humility and love of which Jesus was capable. It was always just something that had to happen so that He could rise again. As the alter was stripped bare and we canted "Oh God, my God, why have you forsaken me" I realized that this WAS a death- an ugly, horrible, sad reason to mourn. When I left, I still could not have told you why, and it bothered me.

Then I had a dream. It wasn't a pretty dream but it helped me understand that Jesus' death was not just something that had to happen so that Easter could occur, but it was the murder of an innocent, holy man.

In my dream, two young men met a homeless but harmless man on the streets. He was near death but still alive. They lit him on fire and it killed him. (Luckily, this scene was not very graphic but rather figurative). Both men were imprisoned. One of the young men was not penitent and had no regret about what he had done. He did not value this man's life because as far as he knew it meant nothing to him. He quickly faded out of the dream. Most of the dream focused on a private conversation with te second man who confessed what he had done and how horrible he felt about his actions, how it was tearing him apart inside. The second man told me that he was following the first man's actions and deeply, deeply regretted killing the innocent man. I remember him wailing in agony at regret over what he had done. But in the end, it had been done.

Of course, it didn't take long before I woke up thinking "what in the...?" After a while I realized what the dream meant to me. It was a way for me to understand in a very personal way, why Jesus' death is so tragic. First, He was innocent, harmless. He did not deserve to die on the cross. There is tragedy in the injustice.

The second thing that makes His death, and not just his resurrection, something we need to remember and commemorate, I learned from the wailing of the second man in the dream. Jesus died because we are imperfect. Each of us played a part in His persecution. When we mourn his death, it is our own failings, our own inability to love completely, and our own collective role in his crucifixion that we must come to terms with. It is a horrible experience not only for Jesus but also for his persecutors.

That being said, I am ready for Easter. I want to celebrate my Lord, not mourn him. I want loud, happy music and celebrations with the "A word" abounding! I have never looked forward to Easter in such a way as I do this year. Here's to Sunday's sunrise and the end of the Lenten season!