At first thought it probably strikes us as odd, to consider Holy Week a season. After all, do "seven days" a season make? In this case, yes they do. For the seasons of the church are not defined by meteorological or climatic concerns, they do not revolve around (no pun intended) our understanding of the journey from apogee to epigee.
Rather, when we speak of seasons of the church, we are referring to those times that are pivotal to our faith. They are defined by those significant moments in God's saving work in us and for us; they are the movements of our salvation, informing us of how the love of God surrounds us in its continuous orbit. In other words, as we worship God throughout the year, we, in a sense, look beyond our earthly calendars to see what particular aspect of God's unchanging love is revealed in all its celestial splendour; and Holy Week, while fleeting when measured by the ticks of the clock, remains timeless in its significance. For in Holy Week, we see sacred time and real time as one.
In Holy Week, we attempt to live the last week of Jesus' life with him. From Christ's triumphant entry into Jerusalem (which we celebrate on Palm Sunday) to the moment the fire of new life is kindled in him (and us!) on Holy Saturday at the Easter Vigil, Holy Week is the only season where we attempt to watch and worship the drama of salvation unfolding, if not minute by minute, then at least day by day. This explains why during Holy Week there is no dismissal, for - as you have read in previous Palm Sunday Bulletins – "we have not been dismissed! Nor shall we be until God has finished working our redemption for us."
However, so as not to give an account of Holy Week that is "over the top" or "airy-fairy," perhaps this discussion should be brought down to earth and some of the practicalities of Holy Week made known.
Not only do we note the absence of the dismissal during Holy Week, but a sermon is traditionally not preached to mark this season's inception either. Instead an Exhortation is given on Palm/Passion Sunday. The cynical would say that this is nothing more than the priest's attempt to increase attendance or givings, or both, ensuring that pews and coffers are appropriately full, in anticipation of the fullness of life that awaits us on Easter Day.
Not so. In fact, the exhortation is more of an invitation. The priest implores parishioners to "be there" during Holy Week as a sign that we don't just "talk the talk," proclaiming the words and works of Jesus, but we also "walk the walk," journeying with our Saviour from cross to crypt, from trial to triumph…and beyond.
As an interesting aside, our Presbyterian brothers and sisters next door at St. Andrews undertake a similar pilgrimage during Advent. Their "Footprints of Christmas" event is the liturgical way that they make their journey to Bethlehem, waiting and watching for the birth of the son of God in our midst. Shame on us Anglicans, who pride ourselves on being liturgically avant-guard, for not being as vigil-ant! I guess you could say that their observance and our over-sight is a "stumbling-block to the Anglicans, (but not) foolishness to the Presbyterians."
As mentioned previously, Holy Week begins on Palm/Passion Sunday and has the singular distinction of being the only season that actually ends in the middle of a service of worship.
Those who have attended an Easter Vigil, know that the service begins outside, in darkness, and that the congregation brings the light of Christ in to the church only to illumine a sanctuary that is barren, bereft of the usual hangings and ornaments that mark our worship.
This is due to the fact that during the most solemn three days of Holy Week (called the Triduum - i.e. Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday) the altar and sanctuary are stripped. Fabric fashionistas will note that from the moment of Jesus' arrest on Maundy Thursday, the familiar Passion Red colour is bled from our worship; and it is not until the first Eucharist of Easter, which is celebrated in the middle of the Easter Vigil, that the sanctuary is repopulated and the white hangings of the holy season of Easter make their appearance. In this we symbolize that this most Holy Week is one of transformation.
When all the blood is shed, and all the stories of our salvation read, and rehearsed, the white light of Christ, heretofore lost in the abyss of the tomb, emerges to reflect the stainless sacrifice that has brought us to redemption. Having run the gamut of the divine drama that enfolds during Holy Week, we enter the season of Easter in hope, with its joyous proclamation fresh from our hearts and first on our lips; darkness is banished, death is conquered, "Christ is Risen, indeed. Alleluia!"
