Rest

In music theory class, I learned the importance of a rest, or pause. Sometimes as powerful as notes themselves, rests can shape a melody and significantly alter the impact of a composition. In much the same way, moments of silence can speak to us theologically just as much as the louder ones, of which today is one of the most vivid examples.

I can only imagine what it must have been like for the disciples sitting in the silence of this day long ago. Placed between the drama of Good Friday and before they knew what was to come, the silence must have been overwhelming. In such silence, they must have tried to piece together all that just happened and draw some understanding from it all.

We, too, have been given a day of silence to rest and reflect on all that happened long ago, just as we can try to understand what it means to us today. Before moving to the crescendo of the Christian symphony, we’re given the opportunity to pause and listen to the power of the silence. May we listen closely.

Good Friday

At first it was the tune that drew me close, now it's the lyrics that stir my soul and help me understand a day like this.

O sacred head, sore wounded, 

Defiled and put to scorn;

O kingly head, surrounded

With mocking crown of thorn:

What sorrow mars Thy grandeur?

Can death Thy bloom deflow'r?

O countenance whose splendor

The hosts of heav'en adore!

 

Thy beauty, long desired,

Hath vanished from our sight;

Thy pow'r is all expired,

And quenched the light of light.

Ah me! for whom Thou diest,

Hide not so far Thy grace:

Show me, O Love most highest,

The brightness of Thy face.

 

In Thy most bitter passion

My heart to share doth cry,

With Thee for my salvation

Upon the cross to die.

Ah, keep my heart thus moved

To stand Thy cross beneath,

To mourn Thee, well-beloved,

Yet thank Thee for Thy death.

 

What language shall I borrow

To thank Thee, dearest friend,

For this Thy dying sorrow,

Thy pity without end?

Oh, make me Thine for ever!

And should I fainting be,

Lord, let me never, never

Outlive my love for Thee.

 

My days are few, O fail not,

With Thine immortal pow'r,

To hold me that I quail not

In death's most fearful hour;

That I may fight befriended,

And see in my last strife

To me Thine arms extended

Upon the cross of life.

Second Exodus. New Covenant.

It was a Passover meal like many others, where each year the story of their ancestors’ exodus, or delivery from captivity, is retold and celebrated. Ages ago, their ancestors were held as slaves in Egypt, and Passover celebrates God’s deliverance from slavery. Although it would be many years before other ancestors would enter the promised land and the freedom it offered, by Jesus’ day the meal celebrated the gift of that freedom. This was the Exodus, the exit from Egypt, and the most visible evidence of the Hebrew people’s covenant with God.

It was in this context, when Jesus took bread and wine and spoke of a “new covenant,” everyone in the room took notice. There had never been any covenant but THE covenant, but now he spoke of a new one which, like the first, promised deliverance from captivity and the gift of freedom, only this one was not geographical or political. For Jesus, the new covenant was a deliverance from the captivity of sin to the new life of grace.

It would take years to understand such a deliverance, one might say we are trying to understand it still, but tonight we celebrate the beginning of that new covenant, that second exodus, in whose light we sit two thousand years later. If you have ever been in captivity and, more important, come to know the true freedom of God's grace, then this is a night to celebrate.