night and day, and the Passion

Our search committee at church has found three likely candidates to be our new rector. The first came to visit this weekend. Several groups, some were particular people invited for lunch and there were some open-to-anyone receptions held to meet him and his wife. The clergy met him last night over dinner.

It was 10 p.m. when we got up from the dinner table, and I still felt as if I hadn't even met the man inside that face. He had few, if any, questions for us, and, as my husband put it, appeared to wish he were somewhere else. Although we gave him lots of information (or, maybe because we gave him lots of information) about the city, the church, the diocese, and the people, he had no questions. I felt as if we'd invited an interesting couple to dinner, but they didn't show up.

Today was Palm Sunday, with all its pagentry. Our assistant rector carried on the show in grand form, complete with the changing of the Lenten purple vestments and hangings to the Passion week red, a change made after we processed all around the neighborhood with the choir, brass players and congregation singing, "All Glory Laud and Honor, to Thee Redeemer King."

In place of the gospel lesson, we had a reading of the passion, this year from the gospel of Matthew, done in parts, that is, with different people playing different roles. I was the narrator, and, at the early service, did some of the parts too.

It is a powerful thing to do, especially when the whole congregation yells, "Crucify him! Crucify him!"

The sermon centered around Peter's denial of Christ, three times before the cock crowed, as Jesus had predicted. Peter continued to say," I do not know the man!" The preacher said that Peter spoke truly, that he did not know Jesus, really, and we frequently don't either. It was a well written, well spoken homily; in fact, the whole liturgy was excellent. If we'd been trying to impress the candidate, we surely should have done so.

Fortunately, that wasn't our goal. It was to worship, and to involve everyone in the drama that the passion of Christ is, and to see ourselves in the ongoing drama of our lives in Christ.

In case I don't get back here till Easter, have a blessed Holy Week.