Stephen Silverthorne
Special to Spur Ottawa

The beginning of John’s Gospel, chapter 12, paints a powerful scene. Jesus has just raised a man, Lazarus, from the dead. Lazarus’ friends and family gather for a meal to celebrate, and Jesus gathers with them as an honoured guest. Dramatically, Lazarus’ sister brings in a jar of outrageously expensive perfume and anoints Jesus’ feet. She wipes it off with her hair. The room is filled with a sweet fragrance.

This scene’s power shines through in many ways: the sister’s overwhelming gratitude, the intimate love with which she unfurls her hair and wipes His feet, and the scandalized reaction of observers. Yet, for my church tradition, the story’s greatest power lies in what it tells us about the events we celebrate next week. As an Anglican, I join with Lutherans, Roman Catholics, and many other church traditions in observing the start of Holy Week this coming Sunday: a seven-day commemoration ending in our celebration of Christ’s resurrection at Easter.

This story of Lazarus’ sister, Mary, and her anointing of Jesus is read on the Sunday before Holy Week because it prepares us for the deep tension in the events we observe throughout the week. The tension comes from seeing Jesus being two things we find hard to reconcile: a glorious king and a humble servant. Just as the prophet Samuel anointed the young David to announce his royal destiny, Mary anoints David’s ancestor, Jesus, as a sign of Jesus’ glory and kingly power. Yet, just as Mary had anointed her dead brother in preparation for his burial, her anointing of Jesus was a sign of his coming humiliation and death. For me, Holy Week’s power comes from the way it forces me to reckon with these two things at once.

Where once the crowds cried “Hosanna!” they now cry “Crucify him!” Jesus is enthroned as king, but that throne is a cross.

The week starts with Palm Sunday, and there the dual nature of Mary’s anointing is put on full display. On Palm Sunday, we hear how Jesus leaves the home of Lazarus and rides into Jerusalem to cries of “Hosanna!” and “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” (Luke 19:38). Crowds wave branches and throw down their coats on the road before Him. Yet, the cross looms over this joyful, kingly scene. Later in the Palm Sunday service, we read the crucifixion story. Where once the crowds cried “Hosanna!” they now cry “Crucify him!” Jesus is enthroned as king, but that throne is a cross.

On Thursday, our church services focus on Jesus in the upper room with His disciples. We read John 13, and watch Jesus take off His outer garment, tie a towel around Himself as a slave might do, and proceed to wash His disciples’ feet. It is the work of a slave, the most menial of household tasks. Yet, in the next breath Jesus reminds them “You call Me teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am” (John 13:13). Jesus is a slave, yet He is their Lord.

On Friday, we listen again to the events on Golgotha: “There they crucified Him, and with Him two others, one on either side, and Jesus between them” (John 19:18). It is a horrible, dehumanizing scene. Jesus is surrounded by mockery, cruelty, and pain. In His death, He is accompanied by two common brigands. Yet above His cross is the sign “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews” (John 19:19). Jesus is executed as a common criminal, yet proclaimed as King.

We come to know Christ’s power and love when we humbly embrace the mission God gives us.

All these services, with their glimpses of Jesus in glory and humility, lead us to the Great Vigil of Easter. Just as the grieving women come to Jesus’ tomb in the darkness, churchgoers begin the services of Easter by gathering in the darkness of Saturday night or early Sunday morning. We light a fire, and by candlelight we read the story of our first ancestor’s fall into sin at Eden, and the terrible woes which result. Yet, in the darkness, we also hear God’s promise that from this fallen woman will come offspring who will crush the serpent’s head (Genesis 3:15).

Through the night, we read story after story of how God brings this promise to its fulfilment. God saves Noah and his family from humanity’s restless evil and the flood which covered the earth. God rescues Israel from its crushing slavery in Egypt. God promises a return for those exiled in Babylon. God shows Ezekiel that the dry bones of Israel’s hopes will once again have life. The lights then go on, alleluias are sung, and we hear how the women find Jesus’s tomb is empty. Jesus has risen. He has fulfilled God’s ancient promise and crushed sin and death under His feet. Jesus’ humiliation on the cross is revealed to be the capstone of God’s long, slow, but unstoppable mission to save His wayward children. It is a glorious display of His power and love.

Let the events of Holy Week remind us that God is not absent in hard times.

So it is with Christian life: we come to know Christ’s power and love when we humbly embrace the mission God gives us. Like Christ on His journey to the cross, we will encounter setbacks, deprivations, and humiliations. These hard times can veil the glory of our King, and dampen our hope. But don’t be fooled. Let the events of Holy Week remind us that God is not absent in these times. Instead, let the experience of Holy Week teach us that it is when we embrace hardships for the sake of Christ that we encounter His power most fully. Paul puts it this way: “I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the sharing of His sufferings by becoming like Him in His death” (Philippians 3:10). Let’s resolve to know Christ and the power of His resurrection as well. Let’s not reject the challenges God brings us. It is by embracing them we come to see how glorious He really is.

Rev. Stephen Silverthorne serves as rector of St. Paul’s Anglican Church in Kanata.