When Following Jesus Looks Like an Empty Church. Even during Holy Week.

It’s Palm Sunday. 2021.

I’m sitting on the couch, my daughters snuggled in tight on either side of me, the computer sitting on the coffee table in front of us. The organ plays, and they begin to sing the first stanza of “All Glory Laud and Honor” with all their might. Feeling my eyes start to water, I stand up and walk toward the kitchen, looking for something to keep my mind off what I’m feeling inside. This isn’t what I want for today. I don’t want to watch this service. I don’t want to imagine Jesus’s procession in my mind. Not here. Not now. I want to ignore it and pretend today is just another day of the week.

This is not what church is supposed to be like. There is no celebration in my heart for this Jesus that is coming into the city. It doesn’t feel celebratory. It feels too far off. Jesus’ power feels empty today. Or maybe I’m just cranky.

A cramp forms in my stomach and I feel the physical pain of mourning. A physical sign of the angst my body feels over spending this holiest week at home, without my beloved church community. Sure, there will be a celebration of sorts on Easter Sunday, but without the other gatherings of this week, I almost don't even want to go. I don’t want a substitute Easter celebration. I want Easter like it’s always been. Gathered together, wearing our best dresses and our fanciest hats, singing “Alleluia” and “Christ is risen” and celebrating the truth that Jesus is victorious over death. 

Usually Holy Week feels sacred. The most sacred week of the year. The week when we remember the death so that the resurrection feels majestic. The resurrection has no teeth without the days that precede it. But this Holy Week feels different. This Holy Week feels redundant. Like it started more than a year ago and has been the longest Holy Week of my life. More than 365 days of remembering loss. Of feeling sadness and lament and heavy, heavy emotions. I am ready for the flowers and the new life and the resurrection. 

I have experienced resurrection in my own life. I know it’s real. I know it’s beautiful. And I don’t want to wait for it any longer.

And yet.

We have to. 

We have to continue to live in this place of lament. This last year has shown us the stark divide between God’s kingdom and our world. In the last year we have seen, firsthand, how the world is not what God intended when he created it so long ago.

We’ve seen almost three million deaths worldwide because of a virus that no one could control.

We’ve seen black men and women killed. Simply because they are black.

We’ve lost friends and relatives without being able to say goodbye. Unable to celebrate their lives with other people who have loved them.

We’ve seen mass shootings.

Nuclear bomb testing.

Nasty and emotional political divides.

Broken democracies.

Fights for power.

Children torn from parents.

And so much more.

It has been a year from hell. It has been a year like no other I can remember. Ever. In my life. It’s like in Harry Potter when Voldemort increasingly gains power until it feels like he will win and kill them all. It feels like evil will win this world and we will all be crushed to pieces. We know how the story ends, but right now, it feels like maybe we’re wrong.

Is this what it felt like on that very first Easter? The mourning, the uncertainty, the pain of loss? This sense of unbelief—Will we ever get through this? Will the church as we once knew it ever be quite the same? 

Church isn’t supposed to be virtual. Church is supposed to be the living, breathing, touchable hand of God. Church is supposed to be the place where we physically feel the touch of other humans, a promise that God is here, in the midst of us. Church is supposed to be the place where we feel the water dripped on our heads and taste the bread and wine on our tongues. Church is a sensual place; not a virtual one. And we haven’t had any of that in over a year. No wonder this Holy Week feels so dark.

The pastor starts his sermon with a question that pierces my heart and puts me back into my place: “Are we willing to make the sacrifices required in following Jesus?”

This is really the crux of our faith. Even today. Especially today. We have given up so much of our lives over the last year; not for our own safety, but for the safety of others. For those who are more vulnerable than we. We have sacrificed our own desire for “church” to protect the ones who need it most. We have laid down our own hearts for the sake of others’ lives. 

This question makes me wonder: What if church is more than a community of people gathered together to worship this Jesus that we all love? Maybe church is a community of people willing to sacrifice everything—even its own life together—for the sake of the world. As painful as it feels not being together, maybe this year Holy Week isn’t so much about gathering together to remember Jesus’s death. Maybe it’s about what our empty church represents instead.

We represent a Jesus who was willing to give up his entire life so that we would know how much God loves us. We represent a Jesus who was willing to come to the earth and live his entire life as an outcast so that each one of us could experience true love and eternal life. We represent a Jesus who everyone thought would break down the walls in this world, but instead was about showing us that greater things are still to come. We represent a Jesus that proclaims the Kingdom is here, and yet will never be fully here, all at the same time.

At the start of worship I thought to myself, “This is a Holy Week like no other.” But now I’m not quite sure. Now I think maybe this is a Holy Week like all the others that have come before. Maybe this Holy Week feels different because we really understand what Holy Week is all about. Maybe this Holy Week is about reminding us that death and resurrection will never be truly complete here in this life. Easter is always temporary—and permanent—all at the same time. That is the paradox of the Christian faith. 

And maybe this year we are experiencing that in a very real, and very tangible, way.

Celebrating Easter At Home

Here we are, a year after the pandemic was first declared, and we’re planning for another Holy Week and Easter at home. I never imagined this pandemic life without church would continue for an entire year and I’m deeply saddened by the thought of another Easter at home. I hope this is the last time in my life that I am separated from church in this way.

Easter is my favorite day of the entire year. Not necessarily because of the celebration, but because of the quiet that happens just before. Easter is all about mystery. About stillness and quietness. About the beauty of wonder.

Growing up, my Mom would wake us up SUPER early, bundle us up, and take us to our church’s outdoor sunrise service. I'll never forget the way we walked into the wooded sanctuary in the dark of the morning, the wonder I felt when I heard the Magnificat sung, and the majesty of the sun rising just as we were remembering our baptism and partaking in Holy Communion. Then we'd eat an amazing breakfast at church, prepared by my favorite people that were like grandparents to me. After breakfast, my family, and my best friend’s, would stay at church to get ready for the festival service. From the brass choir to the Gospel processional with banners and torches, this Easter service was a true celebration of the primary tenant of our faith—Christ is risen from the dead.

Every year, once I was in my Easter dress, I'd sneak into the dark and quiet Sanctuary where I was blown away by the smell of fresh flowers from the flower cross and the potted flowers around the altar. Even as a young child, I'd sit in the pew quietly, just for a moment or two alone. I needed those moments of quiet, those moments of mystery, so that I could fully appreciate the fanfare that was to come.

Easter was the defining moment of my faith as a child. Not because of the fanfare—but because of the stillness and the mystery that came before it. That quiet sanctuary filled with flowers remains my most vivid Easter memory, even now, as an adult.

I've had a hard time as a parent finding ways to recreate that same stillness and mystery for my own children, but last year offered us an opportunity to do just that. We woke them up SUPER early, bundled them up, and headed to the beach to watch the sunrise. And we discovered that even in the midst a pandemic, the stillness and mystery still happens. Christ is still risen.

Although Easter last year was one we will never forget, it didn’t have the same majesty that Easter should have. The quiet and stillness are most powerful when the fanfare comes next. The stillness feels like wandering until you’ve experienced the celebration that comes at the end.

Last year I put together some ideas for how to make Palm Sunday and Holy Week special when we can’t celebrate in-person together. The words I wrote then feel even more relevant today. Our church isn’t quite ready to worship together yet—even masked and outside—so it will be another Easter at home. Last year was a unique experience—one we worked hard to see the beauty in—but the reality is Easter was an incredibly hard day. Although we watched worship on our computer, it felt less like Easter than just another day in what was to become a very long pandemic life. We tried to celebrate at home, but the truth is I was a teary mess the entire day. I am feeling a deep sense of grief over another Easter without my church community, while at the same time remaining hopeful that by summer we can gather together in celebration once again.

This year, our church is offering drive-through Communion, and I am beyond excited to receive the body and blood of Jesus Christ for the first time in over a year. It has been far too long, and Easter will be momentous and special for Holy Communion alone. It will be a true remembrance that nothing can keep Jesus in the tomb.

Although the last thing we want to do is celebrate another Easter at home, we’ve learned that marking these occasions together can be special memories, and that God most certainly shows up. Here are some of our ideas for how to make your Easter Weekend special and meaningful, even if you—like us—won’t be able to gather with your church community or family and friends.

Holy Saturday

Decorate

Spend the morning decorating your house for Easter. We turn our mantel into an altar for Holy Week, and on Holy Saturday we will decorate it with twinkly lights and vases of flowers from our yard or neighborhood. I’m not sure what will have blooming here in New England—Easter seems early this year—but usually we can find a few daffodils and forsythia branches. Last year a friend bought me flowers for my Easter mantel and I may continue the tradition by purchasing a bouquet or two for myself. We’ll also hang our Alleluia banner—we used these letters—and the flower cross we created last year.

Easter Sunday

Watch the Sunrise

The best part of Easter Sunday last year was waking up early to watch the sun rise. The location that we chose wasn’t the best place to see the sun rising over the water, so we’ll scope out a different location this year. Beginning the tradition of waking my kids up early, when it’s still dark, and driving to a secluded location to watch the sunrise was perhaps the greatest gift of being forced to celebrate Easter at home. This is something we will continue for the rest of our years.

Read the Easter Story

I like to do this while we’re waiting for the sunrise because it is a great conversation starter while you’re sitting in the stillness. What do you think it felt like to discover the empty tomb? My favorite version of the story comes from Matthew 28. It beautifully captures the mix of emotions that the women felt when they discovered the empty tomb.

Dress Up

Everything feels a little more special if you wear your nicest clothes. When we go to celebratory affairs, we dress up. You may be at home on Easter morning, but treat yourself to a nice outfit for the day. It might help you feel a little better about having nowhere to go.

Participate in Online Worship

It seems like a no brainer to attend worship on Easter, in whatever way you can. But the reality is online worship is not something that feels celebratory, and it’s something we many times avoid. Communal worship is important on Easter though, even if we don’t feel like it, because it reminds us that our faith is bigger than the four walls around our house. Worshiping with your church community, even if it’s just through Zoom, can help us remember that God remains with us no matter what, and that this too shall pass.

Have an Egg Hunt

Last year David and I hid eggs for the girls, but this year we’re considering inviting a few friends over for a masked egg hunt. We know enough about the virus this year to know it’s likely not going to pass through surfaces, and you can have hand sanitizer available for everyone to use before and after the hunt. If you take precautions in filling eggs and limit the hiding so that only one person is touching them, you can be fairly confident that you’re having a safe and fun event. We are still limited in MA as to how many people we can have gather in our yard, but even inviting one family over can make the day a little more special.

Make something special for dinner

Sharing special meals is one way we mark special days on our calendar. Easter is a time to make something you wouldn’t normally fix on an ordinary weeknight. I love this recipe for Lamb Chops or this one for Baked Ham, served with crispy potatoes and creamed greens. Or if you’re vegetarian, this Lemony Asparagus Risotto looks delicious, as does this Chickpea Salad and this Spring Panzanella. And don’t forget the deviled eggs!

However you celebrate Easter this year, may you find peace and beauty in the stillness and mystery of the day.

Observing Ash Wednesday at Home

“There will be two virtual Ash Wednesday services, but no imposition of ashes.”

My heart sank as I read the message in my inbox. How can we have an Ash Wednesday service without the imposition of ashes? 

This feels like the hardest loss of them all. 

We did Maundy Thursday at home. We read the story of the Last Supper and drew pictures of Jesus. We washed feet and shared bread and wine. We prayed the Lord’s Prayer and asked for Your will to be done.

Then we did Good Friday at home. We turned off the lights and stripped our mantel and remembered the darkness and sadness of the day.

We celebrated Holy Saturday—planting flowers, cleaning the house, and decorating the mantel for the celebration to come.

And we cried our way through Easter Sunday. We woke up in the dark to drive to the beach to wash the sun rise above the ocean. We talked about the beauty and stillness of that morning. The majesty before us. The hope in the midst of our darkness.

We dressed up for church and sat around our coffee table and heard the story of that first Easter morn. We had scavenger hunts in our backyard and pulled out all our best ideas to make Easter a day full of happy memories.

Summer came and went.

We had a small Thanksgiving celebration and gave thanks for the good in the midst of the bad.

We had Christmas Eve snack dinner and sang Christmas carols around candles and made a Holy Communion table of our own. 

And now here we are … Ash Wednesday less than two weeks away … and we’re finding ourselves having to figure out how to do this on our own too.

It is painful for me to think about observing Ash Wednesday at home, away from my beloved Church Community. Ash Wednesday, more than any other worship service, is centered on confession and public absolution. In a normal year, we’d worship in the Sanctuary, singing together, hearing scripture together, praying together—all things that we’ve been able to do together virtually thanks to Zoom. But in a normal year, we would also walk to the altar together to share Holy Communion and remember the promise that Christ has gone before us. Remember his command to remember Him as we eat and drink this bread and wine. Later in the service, we would walk up to that very same altar and receive ashes on our forehead and be reminded that we are dust … and to dust we shall return. 

In a year like this one, that reminder that we will all return to dust is so important. In a year where we’ve seen so many challenges, so much strife, so much isolation and so much death, it’s almost a breath of fresh air to remember that we all, eventually, return to dust. But not being able to do that in the presence of other believers is heart-wrenching.

So I did what we’ve all done so many times over the last eleven months. I found my resolve and dug into my faith and put my creative juices to work. I put together a Family Worship to guide us in observing Ash Wednesday at home. It’s designed to be short and intimate and is adaptable for your family, whether you are 0 or 99+.

Maybe your church community has found a creative and safe way to hold a traditional Ash Wednesday service. Or maybe your church will have a quiet, pensive virtual service that will include a time of confession and absolution, but no imposition of ashes. Or maybe you just don’t have the energy for either of those.

Wherever you are, I feel you, friend. I’m holding you close as we embark on this weird Lenten journey together. I gift you the Ash Wednesday Family Service we will use in our home. Wherever you are, I hope this Family Service is a blessing to you. 

remember you are dust …. and to dust you shall return

My God, My God, Why Have You Forsaken Me?

You can find the transcript of this recording here.

Remembering Holy Week at Home

Palm Sunday is behind us and the Holy Triduum is before us. As we turn our eyes from the procession of the King to his final meal with the Disciples, we begin to think about how we can prepare our homes for Family Worship in a way we may have never done before.

Feeling overwhelmed and not sure where to start? I feel you. But don’t. Don’t allow yourself to feel anxious over making this week perfect. We have enough on our plates right now. Allow yourself to grieve the loss of your community during this very holy time and simply promise to spend a few minutes together as a family each day. That alone can bring a depth to this week that you may have never experienced before. Here are some simple ideas that I hope will bring you inspiration and a feeling of empowerment over this very special week.

Create a Family Altar

This can - and should - be simple. Use what you have around the house. We hung our palm crosses from Sunday on a piece of yarn and hung it from our mantel. On the mantel, we removed the decorations that are usually there and added a candle, a small vase of forsythia flowers, a wooden cross that we had on a bookshelf, and a Bible. If you don’t have a cross of some sort, draw one on a piece of paper. If you don’t have a mantel, use a coffee table, or a side table, or a corner of your kitchen counter or dining table. Don’t overthink it - you want your altar to be in the space where you will gather as a family over the week’s activities.

Maundy Thursday

Eat Dinner Together

Maundy Thursday is all about Jesus’ last meal with his Disciples. Remember that story by eating dinner together. It doesn’t matter what you eat, just set apart the time to share a meal with one another, and allow no interruptions. I suggest you keep the meal simple, so that you have as little cleanup as possible. Our church sent out a wonderful Family Worship liturgy that we will use, but you don’t have to use any liturgy at all. As you’re eating dinner, read the story from John 13:1-17 and 31b-35, where Jesus washes the feet of his Disciples and foreshadows his betrayal.

Family Foot Washing

Continue your remembrance of Jesus’ last meal with a family foot washing. All you need is a big bowl of warm water and a dry towel. As the members of your family finish their meal, gently go to where they are seated and wash their feet. My guess is by the time you finish washing their feet, someone will volunteer to do yours as well!

Strip your Altar

After you’ve finished your meal and the washing of feet, do the work of clearing off the table and cleaning up together. Remind your children - especially if they are younger - that this is the day that begins our journey to the cross and the empty tomb and invite everyone to gather around your Family Altar. Ask one family member to read Psalm 22 out loud, or you can read it out loud and invite them to strip your altar. As the Psalm is being read, gently remove everything from the altar one at a time, and bring it to a place in your house where it will be out of sight. You’ll want to keep it close though, so you can use it again for Easter Sunday! When your altar is empty, and the Psalm is over, say the Lord’s Prayer together and remain in silence for just a minute or two.

Good Friday

This can be a hard day for your youngest or most sensitive children. One of my favorite ways of remembering Good Friday with my littles is by reading The Tale of Three Trees together. Sit around your empty altar as you read the book - or you can find a video of the story here. After the story, allow time for conversation, and then practice intentional silence together. Remember - just one moment of silence can be hard for tinies, so don’t push them to be silent for too long! Finish your remembrance of the death of Jesus by singing the old hymn Were You There together.

Earlier this weekend, a dear friend of mine posted a picture of her family altar saying, “It’s going to be the Holy Week I always wanted but never had the time to implement.” My prayer for us all this Holy Week is that we seize the opportunity to just be present for the final days of Jesus’ life. Many blessings to you and your family as you embark on the journey together.

Artwork by Pieter Bruegel the Elder.

Celebrating Palm Sunday At Home

The hardest part of self-isolating during this strange time of our lives is that it is encroaching on the holiest of weeks. I can’t tell you how many times over the last week I’ve wanted to just cancel Holy Week and pretend it will happen later in the year. I miss my church. I miss singing with the organ. I miss sitting in the Sanctuary and simply feeling the presence of God.

My church, like many others, has been live-streaming worship on Sunday mornings, but it doesn’t really feel like worship when I sit on my couch and watch a screen. There’s no standing and sitting as one big group of people. There are no pews to sit in (or crawl under if you’re my youngest daughter). There are no hugs. There’s no sitting around tables talking about your week as your kids go back for more and more cookies and cupcakes. I’ve found that the addition of technology to church has been more of a damper on this time of stay-at-home than it has been uplifting, so we’ve just been pretending that we’re choosing to miss church these last few weeks.

But ya’ll … this Sunday is Palm Sunday. The Sunday where we remember Jesus’ triumphant entry to Jerusalem and begin our remembrance of his last days. I can’t just pretend to not go to Palm Sunday worship. I’m not sure I’ve ever, in my entire life, missed worship during Holy Week. The last thing I really want to do is create my own Palm Sunday celebration - but if my only choices are to pretend it’s not happening or make a meaningful celebration at home, I’ll chose the latter.

If you - like me - are finding yourself in this place of mourning and sadness, I encourage you to take a few steps to make your Palm Sunday a meaningful one. I thought I’d share with you the things we’re going to do together as a family. I’m keeping it simple, because the last thing I need is anxiety over making meaningful experiences. Remember - the most meaningful part of the day will be the connections and the memories that you make.

Wear Purple! 

Purple is the color of royalty and power. One of the most profound parts of Palm Sunday is the realization that Jesus - the King - rides into town on a donkey. It’s the story of a royal parade - so dress for the occasion!

Start with a Parade!

Remember Jesus’ procession with your own parade around your house or neighborhood. If you don’t have palms, collect pine boughs from your backyard. Or make paper palms - there’s a great tutorial here and a cool printable here.

There are several songs you can use for this procession - one of my favorites is “Prepare Ye the Way of the Lord.”  True story - I had no idea until today that this song was in Godspell. We used to sing it at church camp and it’s always one of my favorite Call to Worship songs. Thanks to my good friend DHawk for pointing out the connection. Another option that we often use in church is All Glory Laud and Honor.

Read the Bible Together

After you’ve had your parade, sit down and read aloud the story of Jesus’ procession into Jerusalem. We’ll be reading the account from Matthew, because it’s what our church will be using. You can find it in Matthew 21:1-11. After you’ve read the story together, talk about what it may have felt like to be there, on the streets of Jerusalem, as Jesus passed you by. What parts of the passage stuck out to you as you heard it? Did you notice something new?

When you feel like your discussion is complete, say a prayer together, thanking God for the words. Pray for people and situations on your heart, and just allow each other a brief moment of silence and reflection.

Create Something Together

Being creative is one of the best ways to make powerful memories together - and is one way that you can make your Palm Sunday extra special in the absence of a regular worship service.

If you were able to get palms, consider turning them into palm crosses to hang up around your house. You could hang them in your windows, or on a mantel, or you can save them and use them on your Holy Week altar (more about that coming soon!)

Or, maybe you want to do a simple painting of palms to hang on your wall, or in your window, or on your family altar. You can use this same tutorial to draw palms with sidewalk chalk on your driveway or neighborhood sidewalks (but remember to stay away from other people!)

If you’re feeling really crafty and have lots of arts supplies, consider making a hosanna banner. Cut out a piece of white fabric - or you can use a big piece of white paper. Use craft paint or felt letters to put the word “hosanna” on your fabric or paper. Then hang it on your front door for the whole neighborhood to see!

Whatever you choose to do, you will always look back and remember “that time when the churches were closed and we had to remember our faith at home.” My prayer for you this weekend is that you find a way to make those memories powerful ones. May God bless you and sustain you in your journey this week.

Photo by Grant Whitty on Unsplash.