Yesterday, I had the great honor to spend the day with colleagues in ministry. Some are currently deacons, one was a priest, and the rest are studying and practicing to become ordained deacons. We spent the day talking about Holy Week, the week before Easter. As a deacon, Holy Week is a spectacular, and exhausting time.
It starts with Palm Sunday, commemorating Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, complete with the excited crowds who line the road with vegetation. Never mind that they were excited because they thought he was going to kick the occupying Romans to the curb, with great military power.
The week continues with what we call Maundy Thursday, Maundy coming from the root word from which we get mandate, or commandment. That night commemorates the night Jesus gave his new commandment, an there is traditionally a foot washing. As Jesus said, because I have washed your feet, so you should wash others’.
Good Friday is a day deep sorrow, as we read through an enactment of Jesus’ betrayal, capture, trial, torture, and execution.
Then comes Saturday, where many hold a vigil. The service begins with a new fire being built, and a big candle lit from that fire, and carried into the darkened church. If there is a deacon at the church, the deacon carries in the new fire chanting, “The Light of Christ”, and the community responds, “Thanks be to God”. This is repeated until the deacon is at the front of the dark church. The candle is placed in a holder, and remains lit and in the front of the church throughout the Easter season, as a symbol of Christ’s light.
Then the deacon chants an ancient and haunting song, that lasts nearly 5 minutes. Picking some of the highlights:
Rejoice now, heavenly hosts and choirs of angels.
This is the night you brought the people out of Egypt.
This is the night when all who believe in Christ are delivered from the gloom of sin.
This is the night when Christ broke the bonds of death and hell, and rose victorious from the grave.
How holy is this night, when wickedness is put to flight, and sins are washed away. It restores innocence to the fallen, and joy to those who mourn.
It casts out pride and hatred, and brings peace and concord.
How blessed is this night when earth and heaven are joined and man is reconciled to God.
In many places and throughout history, the Great Easter Vigil is a bigger deal than Easter morning. Because of the prominent, historical role of the deacon to be the one to bring in the Light of Christ, and proclaim this hymn of gratitude and salvation, it remains a highlight for many deacons.
Our training yesterday reviewed some of the richness and history of this ancient hymn, and we had the opportunity to practice. One of the things that was stressed is that we stand in for Christ, bringing the light into the darkened people, which is a humbling experience.
It’s no wonder that this phrase from John struck me this morning. Christ is able to shed light into the darkness of our lives. And it doesn’t take much light to lighten things up. I’ve read that if the earth’s curve didn’t get in the way, you could see a candle flicker from 30 miles in the darkness. If that is true, than to have even a slight flickering faith in Christ should illumine our bodies, and beyond.
That’s the beauty of God’s gift of faith. Just a little bit in me, dispels the darkness in me. And hopefully spills out a little beyond me, to lighten a little bit beyond me. Likewise, a little bit of faith in someone else, dispels their darkness, and spills out, and dispels a little bit of mine.
This morning, I’m thinking about the light that dispels darkness, how to carry it at the Great Vigil, and beyond.
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