Easter Monday

The horror behind us has not vanished.
The stain on the wall hasn’t faded.
Your eyes are still red from weeping
at his sorrow, bearing yours.
How could you forget the burn of the nails
as he was hammered to your own heart,
and suffered for your selfishness?
Without doubt you felt the world collapse
as he breathed his last, the whole city shaken,
dust to dust, not one stone left upon another.
Surely you remember the travesty of his lifeless flesh,
the theft of your time with him.
Clearly, you saw the stone rolled onto the grave,
the granite weight of death so immovable.
This you know: that sin and sorrow killed him,
that the army that led him to his death
was quartered in your heart.

And yet he is alive. What do we make of this?
That there is a mercy more powerful than all that.
That all of this, the sin and sorrow, the guilt,
the stone hardness of death itself,
is no longer what it was.
What seemed absolute has become a mist,
changed by mystery, diluted with light,
confined by the certainty that despite all horror,
our graves, overpowered by love,
open like wings, and let go,
and we begin anew.

Now we know.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Risen

We have witnessed our death.
Christ has carried our pain,
accepted our selfishness and fear,
been pierced with our wounds,
suffered our injustice.
The Beloved has borne us into our death.

But love like the holy bread
transforms that which swallows it.
Christ has broken the walls of the tomb—
our tomb.
Christ is risen,
and now we too are alive.

Alleluia!

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Holy Saturday

Grief is the friend
who teaches us what abides.

Emptiness is the gift
in which the struck bells ring.

Silence is the wonder
in which the next thing may unfold.

Nothingness is the air
that fills the sail.

Darkness is the mystery
where the tomb can become a womb.

Waiting is the discipline
that holds the moment open.

Mystery wraps its long arms around us,
knowing glory beyond our knowing.

This is every day’s holiness,
losses sinking in, miracles biding time,

sitting still, God holding our hand
without our knowing.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Eli, Eli

           My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
                      —Psalm 22.1

          Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?”
                    —Matthew 27.46


To you who despair, here is the voice of hope.
God has not abandoned Jesus, or turned away.
(There is no suffering God does not look upon, or share.)
The mystery of the cross is that both you and God hang on it.
It is you repeating the ancient cry of our deepest horror:
the fear that God doesn’t know where you are,
and doesn’t care, the fear that you are alone
and unaccounted for in this cold world.
But on the cross it is also God.
God knows what it is to feel abandoned by God.
God is with you in that terrible aloneness.
Your longing is God.
Nothing, even the sense God has abandoned you,
can separate you from God.
God is there in your feeling forsaken,
your feeling of unworthiness,
your life as small as a grave
in the great wideness of this world.
God is with you there in that tiny, dark alone place.
And that cross, that tomb, because God is in it,
is unable to be final or complete,
unable even merely to be what it appears to be at all.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.ne
Listen to the audio recording:

His blood

         Jesus took a cup, and after giving thanks
         he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you;
         for this is my blood of the covenant,
         which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”

                  — Matthew 26. 27-28

         Pilate said, “I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.”
         Then the people as a whole answered,
         “His blood be on us and on our children!”

                  — Matthew 27. 24-25

         We have been chosen and destined by God
         and sanctified by the Spirit to be obedient to Jesus Christ
         and to be sprinkled with Christ’s blood.

                  —1 Peter 1.2

         The blood of Jesus God’s Begotten cleanses us from all sin.
                  — 1 John 1.7



God does not demand blood. That’s our sickness.
Jesus’ blood does not make Jews guilty and Christians saved.
The power of the cross is not in the blood. It’s in the forgiveness.
Jesus’ blood—his life—that flows from his heart is his love,
that forgives us all. The blood of forgiveness
is splattered on the guards and their thorns
and the women and their tears,
sprinkled on the men and their hammers
and the disciples and their fear,
falls on the soldiers and their spears
and the onlookers and their deadly silence.
It’s a grisly scene, with blood everywhere,
the blood of forgiveness sprinkled on us all.
None are clean. All are washed.
None are without guilt. All are saved.
Behold the mystery of the cross, the blood of Christ.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Jesus, flesh of God

Jesus presence of God
           peace amid our chaos

Jesus flesh of God
           suffering with us

Jesus wound of God
           receiving our sorrow

Jesus hope of God
           praying for us

Jesus prisoner of God
           freely surrendering to us

Jesus innocence of God
          our scapegoat

Jesus silence of God
           no answer to our accusations

Jesus tenderness of God
           dying with us

Jesus love of God
           take us

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Low Jesus

My Beloved Jesus, my Healer and Savior
I do not look up to the heavens to seek you.
I look down, down to the lowest place, beneath me.
For you have come, with all the sorrows of the world,
come fresh from death row, from the starving child,
the bombed apartment, the locked ward,
from the bleeding street and the dusty camp,
with the despair of those dying alone—
you have come and knelt beneath me and washed my feet.
With a world to save, you come to me,
with such attentive tenderness, taking your time,
holding my wayward feet in your hands,
you bless me, heal me, wash me, anoint me.
You take the lowest place and serve me.
I will never find you up on the podium or pedestal,
but down on the ground, harvesting, cleaning,
invisible, among the unseen, unsung, unsavory.
You, my Lowest Christ, my ground beneath, my earth,
you hold my feet. I need never look higher.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Body and blood

           Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it
           he broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said,
           “Take, eat; this is my body.”
           Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks
           he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you;
           for this is my blood of the covenant,
           which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”

                           —Matthew 26.26-28


Oh, Mystery!

You hand me your brokenness
           and my taking it makes you whole.

I receive your blessing
           and my taking it makes me whole.

I take your brokenness into myself
           and it becomes part of me.

I drink of your forgiveness
           and I become part of you.

Around the table we share
           and we become part of each other.

We all are baked into one loaf,
           into your dying, and your rising.

We receive your giving
           and we too are given.

Oh, Mystery, I receive.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Seed

           Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies,
           it remains just a single grain;
           but if it dies, it bears much fruit.

                           —John 12.24

Beloved,
in love you have thrown the seed of yourself
into the soil of us.
You have sown yourself in the wound of us,
the dark, rich humus of our sorrow and lostness.
You have surrendered yourself to our pain
and the taunting of the demons that haunt us.
You’ve allowed the seed casing of your life to split open,
and your love to bleed out, reaching,
fingering tenderly through the dark soil,
infinite power of life creeping out.
You’ve already said, “Into your hand I commit my spirit.“
You have already died,
and been raised by life that is eternal.

So now you are ready
to ride your little donkey toward us,
Resurrected One, ready to be crucified.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Holy Week Prayers and Litanies

Download this document here.

Through the darkness

Gentle Shepherd,
through this valley of the shadow of death
you are with me.
The rod of your presence, the staff of your love,
they comfort me.
You have sought out my pain,
and come to be with me in my struggle.
In this darkness, where I am hurting and alone,
you are hurting with me, alone with me.
It is my pain you are nailed to,
my unknowing that leads you,
my blood that flows from your wounded side.
For this unspeakable miracle,
that you bear my pain with such love,
I thank you.
Even in my suffering I am in the paradise of you.
Beloved, whom I trust,
lead me through this darkness
to the dawn.
Amen.


Show us the way


Gentle and faithful God,
we are lost, wandering and hungry.
In our fear and self-centeredness we are in the dark.
In the pain we bear and the pain we inflict we are broken.
In our despair and distrust we are as good as dead.
Yet you are with us; you claim us;
your bear our cross, and make it your own.
Your presence radiates in us, and gives us light.
Heal our trembling hearts, transform our will,
lift up our spirits, and and give us hope.
Crucified One, walk with us,
show us the way, and lead us toward life.
Amen.

Make gentle our hearts

Tender God, we give thanks
that even in our sin we are your Beloved.
You welcome our shamed and violent hearts.
You heal our broken spirits.
You forgive the suffering we cause.
Make gentle our hearts in trust
that the pain we have cast onto others,
that has hurt you the deepest,
still fails to separate us from you,
but is swallowed up in your love.
Gentle God, you who suffer all violence and yet forgive,
Christ, you who are crucified
in all who are wounded, silenced or shamed,
fill our hearts with your mercy,
with gratitude for your grace,
with passion for your justice,
and with love for our neighbors,
in the name and the courage of Christ.
Amen.

At your table

Gentle Christ,
you invite us to feast with you,
to celebrate the Passover of death,
our liberation to new life.
We feast on your grace.
Knowing our guilt, you invite us.
Bearing our judgment, you share with us.
Suffering our wounds, you rejoice with us.
You hold us worthy, and you honor us.
You feed us, wash us, and teach us to pray,
and you pray for us when we are too weak.
We thank you. In deepest reverence
we receive you, take you into ourselves,
and become your Body.
For this Mystery we thank you
and ask your blessing,
that we may die with you and rise with you
by the grace of the Holy Spirit
and the infinite love of God.
Amen.

At the cross

Jesus,
we are silenced by your suffering.
You bear our pain
and even our thanks finds no words.
But we confess: it is pain we ourselves have caused.
It is our lynchings, our crucifixions you endure.
It oppression and injustice we have aided
that bears you away.
And yet you forgive.
In you we behold both our sin and our salvation.
Break our hearts, Loving One,
break our pride and fear,
and let your deep compassion seep in,
that we may end our violent ways,
that we may not judge or dismiss another.
Open our eyes to the Golgathas we live with.
Make us, by your suffering grace, compassionate people,
who hunger and thirst for justice and mercy.
Amen.

In the garden

Oh, dear Beloved,
how can I bury you?
To let you into the ground
is to let the pain into my heart.
I bury you in myself.
always here, in love.
And I release you,
accepting my loss, willing
to find wholeness in woundedness.
The garden, echo of Eden,
place of beauty and rest,
hides such sorrow.
Give me the honesty to weep,
the patience to wait,
the faith to know I am beloved
even when I am broken.
Give me the trust to know
you are not done yet.
Always, there is more. Always.
In your silence, I wait.
Amen.

The veneration of the cross

[Ideally for two readers plus congregation:
Reader 1 in plain type; Reader 2 in italics; Congregation in bold]

On the cross of Christ—behold our suffering.
        Jesus occupies our brokenness, knows our powerlessness, bears our wounds.
Even in our deepest pain God is with us.
        Behold the life-giving cross,
        on which was hung the salvation of the world.


On the cross of Christ —behold our fear.
        In self-centered anxiety we cast our wounds onto others.
Even in our terror, God is with us.
        Behold the life-giving cross,
        on which was hung the salvation of the world.


On the cross of Christ—behold our sin.
        Jesus suffers our violence and injustice, but forgives.
Even in our sin God is with us.
        Behold the life-giving cross,
        on which was hung the salvation of the world.


On the cross of Christ—behold our death.
        Though we fear it, death does not separate us from God.
Even in our dying God is with us.
        Behold the life-giving cross,
        on which was hung the salvation of the world.


On the cross of Christ—behold our salvation.
        Jesus suffered all we fear separates us from you,
        but not even sin and death can separate us from your love.
The God of love is with us and for us.
        Behold the life-giving cross,
        on which was hung the salvation of the world.

_________

Prayer for Christ Imprisoned


Sovereign of the universe,
you dared to come to us in humble form,
in a prisoner, condemned and despised;
and still you come to us so,
and still we despise and condemn you.

We ask for your mercy and forgiveness.
Heal our hearts, and change our ways.

In the name of Christ we pray for all prisoners,
and those who guard them.

We pray especially for political prisoners
victims of government-sponsored violence,
and all who live in fear of coercion.

We pray for those who carry such fear
that they are willing to cause others to suffer.

Give us the heart of Christ,
the will to not cooperate with violence and evil,
but to resist it with our lives,
with courage and nonviolence,
with mercy, gentleness,
forbearance and forgiveness,
so that in our suffering,
in our resistance and in our faithfulness,
and in your invincible life-restoring grace,
we will know resurrection.
Amen.

___________


         The passion of Christ


Eternal God, our gentle servant,
in the silence you cry for justice.
We listen for your voice.

Loving Christ, Crucified One,
you appear in the suffering of the world.
Give us hearts of compassion.

You come to us in love
in the poor and the powerless, the crucified.
We love you only as we love them.

Your body is broken for us,
the earth, wounded for our appetites.
We repent of our greed.

Your blood is poured out for us,
our kin exploited for our ease.
Give us hearts of reverence and humility.

We were once slaves in Egypt:
undocumented immigrants, unaccompanied children.
Set us free from our cold heartedness and fear.

Scorned and rejected, O Christ,
imprisoned and condemned,
help us do to others as we wish for ourselves.

Unseen One, you who have suffered for our sins,
all those we do not see, who suffer for our sins,
forgive us, redeem us, and by your grace
grant that we may make this
a more just and gentle world. Amen.


Last Supper – A meditation


Beloved, in the face of evil you set a table of grace.

In the midst of death you feed us life.

In the face of injustice you practice generosity.

In our self-absorption you draw us into community.

In our fear you fearlessly love us.

In the face of oppression you initiate liberation.

We flee to save ourselves, but you give us yourself.

In our clinging to our lives you give us yours.

Knowing our unworthiness, you honor us.

Knowing our betrayal, you entrust yourself to us.

Suffering our hard-heartedness you forgive us.

Knowing our brokenness, you enter it.

To the sorrow still to come upon us, you grant peace.

When we think you are dead, you come to us.

Feasting on you, we become you.

Broken as bread, we die with you.

Life poured into us like richest wine, we rise.

Your heart beating in us, we go into this dark world
with joy and gratitude, with love and courage,
with wonder and hope, your name on our lips.


LITANY OF THE CROSS

Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
Grant us your peace.
Loving Christ, on the cross you emptied yourself;
may we follow in humility, self-emptying and trust.
Lord, have mercy.
In tender love you entered into the suffering of the world;
may we take up our cross and follow, vulnerable for the sake of love.
Christ, have mercy.
You bore our sin and violence and showed us only love;
fill us with your love.
Lord, have mercy.
You received our sin without judgment, and forgave us entirely;
we confess our sin, and pray that we may be forgiving of all people.
Christ, have mercy.
You exposed the evil of our systems and powers,
and the forces of injustice we participate in;
help us resist evil and injustice.
Lord, have mercy.
You bore our pain and shame,
for there is nothing that separates us from God;
open our hearts to God’s presence with us in our pain.
Christ, have mercy.
You shared the bonds of our mortality,
yet trusted in life that is eternal; grant us trust in eternal life.
Lord, have mercy.
You showed us that whatever we do
to the least of these, our sisters and brothers,
we do to you; open our heart to all who suffer.
Christ, have mercy.
You show us the power of nonviolent resistance, f
or your actions have changed the world;
may your Spirit live and work in us.
Lord, have mercy.
You enter the darkest parts of our souls,
and shine with the light of love;
fill our hearts with the mystery of your love.
Christ, have mercy.
We thank you. We praise
Lord, have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
Lord have mercy, and grant us your peace. Amen.
SILENT REFLECTION

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