Sermons For The Triduum 2025: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter. Preached by the Rev. Michael G. Wallens

St. Pauls - Maundy Thursday - April 17, 2025

What comes to mind when you think about Maundy Thursday? 

Most of us probably think about the foot washing and the last supper. That’s certainly part of what happens on this night, and that’s the focus of tonight’s gospel (John 13:1-17, 31-35). But this night is also the night of the betrayal. 

After washing the disciples’ feet (including the feet of Judas) Jesus returned to the table and declared, Very truly, I tell you, one of you will be betray me (John 13:21). It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it into the dish (John 13:26). 

We know what happens next. Jesus gave the piece of bread to Judas and immediately [Judas] went out. And it was night. (John 13:26, 30) Later that night Jesus and his disciples go to a garden on the other side of the Kidron valley. Judas also goes there and brings soldiers, police, chief priests, and Pharisees. They come with lanterns, torches, and weapons. Jesus is arrested, bound, and taken away. (John 18:1-4, 12) And the betrayal is complete.

IIf one follows the lectionary for this week then you know that there is a thread of betrayal that is woven throughout this week. That’s why I wanted us to recall that Maundy Thursday is not only the night of the last supper and foot washing, but also the night of betrayal. 

I don’t think there is a more stark or heartbreaking image of betrayal tonight than in the stripping of the altar. It is the last thing we will do tonight. We will strip the altar. 

Every betrayal, whether of ourselves or another, is a stripping of the altar of our life. Something is lost, pulled apart, and dismembered. Betrayals dismember trust, relationship, love, innocence, self-esteem, plans and hopes for the future, integrity and wholeness. When we betray we dismember our own life or someone’s else’s, and usually both. 

How have you experienced your self-betrayals and your betrayals of another? In what ways has the altar of your life been stripped? What is dismembered in your life tonight? 

I want us to name what is dismembered in us because tonight is also the night of remembrance. Do this in remembrance of me, Jesus says to us (1 Corinthians 11:23-26). Jesus is not saying to us, Don’t forget me when I’m gone. Think about me now and then. There’s more to remembrance than that.

Remembering is the antidote to dismembering. 

I’m not talking about remembering as simply recalling a past event or the way things used to be. I am talking about re-membering, membering again. It’s taking the members, the parts and pieces of our lives, and putting them back together again. That’s what this night is about. We come this night to re-member what has been dismembered. 

Everything Jesus says and does tonight is about

 re-membering.

This is my body that is for you. — Do this in remembrance of me.

In what ways are you embodying the presence of Jesus? How are you embodying his likeness? What would it look like for you to embody the image of Jesus? I’m asking about tangible, fleshy life. It is re-membering ourselves to faith, hope, love, beauty, compassion, mercy, forgiveness, generosity, hospitality – all the things we see in the life and body of Jesus – not simply as good ideas or beliefs, but as actions that connect us to something larger than and beyond ourselves.

• This cup is the new covenant in my blood. — Do this in remembrance of me.

  
  
  
  

  What cups are you drinking from these days? Which ones are filling you up and giving you life? And which ones are leaving you empty and thirsty? What keeps you from drinking deeply from the cup of life? Tonight is the invitation to drink from the cup of remembrance, to re-member within ourselves what gives life, what holds meaning for us, and what really matters. What is that for you?

• Unless I wash you, you have no share with me. — Do this in remembrance of me.

  
  
  
  

  What in you needs to come clean tonight? And what is your fear about that? This is about honesty and vulnerability with ourselves. It means naming our wounds and guilts, and then reimagining our lives as larger than what has happened to us or what we’ve done. We re-member ourselves; our value, dignity, and beauty. 

• You also ought to wash one another’s feet. — Do this in remembrance of me.

  
  
  
  

  From whom and in what ways have you become disconnected? With whom do you need to re-member? Even though we wash feet on this night, this night is not really about feet. It’s about intimacy and opening ourselves to receive and hold the life of another. It’s recognizing the beauty, dignity, and value of another, and holding their needs, hopes, and lives as important and valid as our own.

• Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. — Do this in remembrance of me.

This is the pinnacle and fulfillment of all our 

re-membering. The love Jesus is speaking about is not a feeling. It is steadfast loyalty and commitment to another and his or her well-being. Love is a verb, an action, and it has the power to change our lives and the world. Love looks like tears for and outreach to Ukraine; a parent’s sleepless night with a sick child; sitting at the bedside of a dying loved one; supporting, encouraging, and calling forth the best in another; commitment to one who has fallen and lost her or his way; caring for those in need; celebrating the joys and successes of another; sitting with and holding the grief of another, working for justice; forgiving hurts and healing relationships; living in gratitude. 

Remember this picture of Jesus, on his knees, looking up as our dusty feet rest in his soon-to-be-pierced hands. Remember as Jesus says, Love one another like this. Hands-on and no-holds barred. Love until you surprise people. Love until the powerful of this world feel the threat of your love. Love until the broken of the world are healed, and the starving of the world are fed. Love until love becomes your signature, your trademark, your calling card, your identity. Love until you understand what I have done to you. Love until the world understands who I am. Remember me, and remember this: I have made you for love. Do you know what I have done to you? What I have done for you? What I long to do with and through you?

You cannot love without re-membering. Love is the way of 

re-membering.

This entire week has been about re-membering, and it is not over. Do not let your re-membering end tonight with communion, the foot washing, or the stripping the altar. Re-membering is not an event. It is a way of living. It is a way of relating to others. It is a way of becoming more fully ourselves. 

Leave here tonight re-membering. Let it be your daily practice.

Re-member. Re-member. Re-member.

St. Pauls - Good Friday - April 18, 2025

Today, Good Friday, is the day in the church calendar when we remember the crucifixion and death of Jesus Christ. For those of us who have attended many Good Friday services, we might miss how strange it is that we call this day good. After all on this day, we’ve spent each year emphasizing that the death of Jesus was especially cruel, dehumanizing, shameful, torturous.

But then the one day on the church calendar that we spend specifically focusing on it, dwelling on it, facing it fearlessly, we call that day good. But why? Why wouldn't we call it regrettably necessary, unfortunately important, required, essential, demanded, but horrible?

This is an important question for us to answer, not only to figure out why we call this day one thing over another, but because the fact that Christians call this singular historical event the day men killed God on a cross, the fact that we call that day good is central to the Christian faith.

I used to try to understand, explain, or make sense of this day, Good Friday. I don’t anymore. I’ve given that up. What do you say on days like this? What can be said? 

Besides, most of the explanations that I’ve heard or come up with myself don’t really satisfy. They are mostly ways of avoiding death, and a betrayal of Jesus’ humanity. And to whatever degree we turn away from death and humanity, we turn away from our own lives. I don’t want us to do that today.

The risk for you and me today is to say too much and to try and make this day okay. It’s not okay and it never will be. If it were, we’d have no need of Easter. And Easter is not what makes Good Friday good. Easter is what keeps Good Friday from becoming the Last Friday.

There is not a view of this day long enough to eventually say, It was worth it. You know as well as I do that some losses are irreparable. The time is ruined. The suffering cannot be redeemed. 

We hear that in the story of Jesus’ death. We see it in the pictures of the dead in Ukraine. and Gaza and Israel We feel it every time a friend or loved one dies. And we fear it when we think about our own deaths. 

Maybe the most that can be said about this day is, That’s what happened. Maybe that’s what I should have done today. Maybe after we heard the Passion of Christ (John 18:1-19:42) I should have stood before you and said, That’s what happened, and then sat down. Isn’t that what the gospel writers do? They don’t explain this day or make it acceptable. They just tell us what happened.

I know what happened but I have no explanation for what happened. I have only my experience of what happened. And I suppose that’s true for you as well. 

So let me ask you this: How are you experiencing this day? In what ways have you experienced death and loss? Whose or what deaths are you bringing with you today? What parts of your life are dying? And what parts need to die?  

In a few moments we will pray the solemn collects. In some way they are our response to the experience of this day. When we have no words of explanation, we offer words of prayer. 

• We’ll pray that God will confirm us in faith, increase us in love, and preserve us in peace. Who among us doesn’t need that on days like this?

• We’ll pray that God will help us seek justice and truth, and live in peace and concord. Isn’t that what the cross of Jesus, the cross of Ukraine, and the crosses of violence throughout our world today are asking for? They are showing and giving us our work to do.

• We’ll pray for all who suffer and are afflicted, that God’s mercy will comfort and relieve them, that they will know God’s love, and that you and I will care for their needs. That prayer reminds me that on days like this, on days of suffering and death, the presence of another matters and makes a difference. We need each other.

• Days like this are hard, and it’s easy to lose our way, become hardened, angry, and resentful. Suffering can do that to you. So we’ll pray that hearts will be softened and opened to the truth, that we and people everywhere may align our lives, in faith and obedience, to something larger than and beyond ourselves. You and I call that the gospel of Christ. 

• And finally, we’ll pray that all may “see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection.” Even on days like this we trust that is still happening.

Here’s what strikes me about those prayers. They are not an escape from this day. They don’t undo this day or take down the cross. They don’t even ask that we be saved from suffering, death, and the cross. Instead, they invite Jesus into our sufferings and deaths. And isn’t that what’s happening today? 

Jesus is never more real, more human, more embodied, more identified with and like us, than he is on the cross. It’s not at his birth, or in his teaching and preaching, or the miracles he performs, or even at his resurrection. It’s on the cross in his suffering and dying that his humanity is most fully displayed.

Jesus is never more present to you and me and our sufferings and deaths than he is on this day. That’s the power and good of this Friday. And that’s not my explanation of this day, that’s my experience. Maybe that’s what it means to glory in the cross of Christ.

Basically, as Christians, we love because the cross draws us towards love. Its power is as compelling as it is mysterious and difficult to articulate. The cross pulls us towards God and towards each other, a vast and complicated gathering place called the church. 

A rabbi on a podcast I heard the other day was speaking about the 23rd psalm. He pointed out that the verse reading, Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadows of death…….He pointed out that in order to have shadows one needs light…not thought about that before. So….Whether or not we want to see Jesus shamed and wounded, here he is, drawing us closer and closer to the holy darkness where divine light dwells.

This is the solid ground we stand on. This is the path we are invited to walk. Stark….holy….brutal….beautiful.

St. Pauls - Holy Saturday - April 19, 2025

Nobody wants to come to Holy Saturday. Look around. Very few show up on this day, and most probably do not even know there is a liturgy for this day. I don’t blame them, I understand. 

Not much happens today. The liturgy is short, maybe twenty minutes. The church is empty and bare. There are no decorations, colors, or candles. We don’t sing today. And there’s no food, no bread and wine. The body and life are missing today. Gone. 

I suspect Mary Magdalene and the other Mary didn’t want to come to this day either. Joseph of Arimathea wrapped the body of Jesus in a clean linen cloth, laid it in the tomb, rolled a great stone to the door of the tomb, and went away. The body and life are missing today. Gone. And now Mary Magdalene and the other Mary sit “opposite the tomb” (Matthew 27:57-66).

You probably know what that’s like. What do you imagine they’re feeling? Are they talking or are they silent? If they are talking, about what?

Nobody wants to come to Holy Saturday, and yet, every one of us will even if we never come to church on this day. I’m talking about the Holy Saturday of life. 

Holy Saturday is the day after. It’s the day after your life completely changed, and not in a way you wanted. It’s the day after she or he died. It’s the day after the relationship ended. It’s the day after your plans and hopes where shattered. It’s the day after the biggest mistake of your life. It’s the day after the betrayal. It’s the day after the loss.

Holy Saturday is the day when we sit with our loss and realize again and again that it really did happen. This is not a nightmare from which we will awaken. This is our new reality, and it comes with all sorts of feelings: grief, sorrow, hurt, fear, despair, anger, guilt, shame. It usually leaves us tearful and exhausted. And I wish I could tell you that it’s only one day, but I can’t. You know as well as I that it’s not.

Holy Saturday is an in between day. What was is no longer and what will be is not yet. We not only wonder about what is next but if there will even be a next. Here’s how Job puts it: If mortals die, will they live again? All the days of my service I would wait until my release should come (Job 14:1-14). Holy Saturday is a day of ambiguity and not knowing. It’s a day of waiting and sitting opposite the tomb.

What is your Holy Saturday today? What tombs are you sitting opposite of? How are you experiencing your Holy Saturday? What are you feeling? And what do you need to do with this day?

I think we’d all like to jump from Good Friday to Easter. That’s pretty much what Holy Week has become for most people. Jesus is dead and then suddenly alive. Great joy has suddenly replaced great sorrow. (Alexander Schmemann) Nobody wants to come to Holy Saturday.

I used to think that my grief and losses would be replaced by joy and new life or that they would somehow be changed into joy and new life. But neither of those has happened. Easter does not replace Good Friday, and Good Friday does not turn into Easter. 

I don’t think the losses and griefs of our Good Fridays ever go away, diminish, or no longer touch us. They’re always with us. Instead, I think that Easter, new life, grows around and becomes larger than the Good Friday losses. We are no longer chained to or imprisoned by our losses. We learn to live again, not apart from our losses but with them. That’s what’s happening in the Holy Saturday of life. 

The Church describes that metaphorically by saying that Holy Saturday is the day Jesus descended into hell. Look it up, it’s on page 53 in the Book of Common Prayer. Be careful here. Hell in this context is not about punishment or a moral judgment. It’s simply the place of the dead, the place that holds all our losses.

Let me read you something about this day from the Eastern Orthodox tradition:

Today hell groans and cries aloud: “It had been better for me, had I not accepted Mary’s Son, for He has come to me and destroyed my power; He has shattered the gates of brass, and as God he has raised up the souls that once I held.”

We’re more than poor schmucks pitifully clinging to fair tales. It’s true: we too are corpses buried in the forgotten country. But exactly here, on this strange day, evil and sorrow strain to hold their grip. There’s a rumbling. Death — that ol’ snaggletooth enemy — feels uneasy, getting spooked. As St. Epiphanius said, Something strange is happening: There is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and he has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and Hades trembles with fear. My Friends….We’re living in a strange, strange day. Hold on.

St. Pauls Easter Sunday - April 20, 2025

Alleluia. Christ is risen.

The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.

So let me ask you this, what makes this story true? I don’t think it’s true because the women found the stone rolled away from the tomb. And I don’t think it’s true because they did not find the body. And I don’t think it’s true because two men in dazzling clothes said, He is not here, but has risen.

I don’t know if any of that actually happened, and neither do you. So if you’ve come here today simply believing and trusting that the story is true, I have one word for you: Continue. Also keep in mind that it is not enough to just believe this story.

I don’t want us to leave here today just believing in this story. I want us to leave here today living this story. This story has meaning and is true only to the extent it is lived and experienced in our lives. What good is it to us if the stone has been rolled away from Jesus’ tomb but not ours? What good is to us if Jesus is free of his grave clothes but we are not? What good is it to us if Jesus is raised from the dead but we are not?

Today is not the wrap up or ending of a tough week for Jesus. And it is not the happy resolution to Holy Week. Easter does not suddenly replace Good Friday, turn back time, or undo the past. And Easter is not what makes Good Friday good. Easter is what keeps Good Friday from becoming the Last Friday, not just for Jesus but for you and me too. 

Easter makes a future possible. It declares us and our lives to be more and larger than what has happened to us or what we have done. I think that’s why Peter went home, amazed at what had happened. I don’t think he was amazed at what had happened only to Jesus. I think we was amazed at what had happened to himself. He experienced a change, something new, something alive within himself. He was not only a witness to the resurrection, he was resurrected. And he didn’t just go home, he returned to himself.  

Who among us today doesn’t want to be amazed like that? Don’t you want to come home to yourself? I do. I want to be true to myself in a way that makes a difference for the better in my life and yours. I want to choose love over fear, growth over comfort, vulnerability over security, wisdom over knowledge, compassion over indifference, and forgiveness over paybacks. 

Look at the ways those choices enlarge and give life for ourselves as well as others. What if that’s what it looks like for the stone to be rolled away and the grave clothes to be laid aside? What if that’s resurrection? 

What would it take for you to leave here today amazed at what had happened to you, amazed at what is happening to you? I’m not talking about amazement in the sense of something magical, out of this world, or a spectacular eggstravaganza. 

I’m talking about the kind of amazement that deepens your life and gives meaning; that leaves you weeping in gratitude; that surprises you with your own goodness and beauty; that causes you to whisper to yourself, Yes, amen, let it be; that takes your breath away, leaves you speechless, and makes you glad to be alive; that opens your heart and eyes to more than you ever imagined, the possibility of the impossible.

At St. Paul's.....

Let me show you what I am talking about.  Think back to when you have attended a baptism or your own or your children’s or a good friends…..Picture them. Aren’t they amazing? Look at them and see the miracle of life, the beauty of creation, and the image of God revealed in  human beings, is that not amazing? Take a look at them, consider all that might be for them What do you see in them that amazes you, and what if they are a mirror showing you what is amazing in your life? 

What are/were your best prayers, hopes, and wishes for them? My guess is that you wanted them to leave the baptismal font amazed at what has happened to them amazed at who they are, and amazed at the life that is before them. And isn’t that also what we want for ourselves? 

We wanted those special people &  ourselves to leave here today eastering. Eastering, isn’t that a great word? That’s my word for living and making todays’s gospel true in our lives. I got it from the poet Gerald Manley Hopkins. Easter is something we believe in, eastering is something we do. 

The stone has been rolled away and the grave clothes have been laid aside so tell me, what do you need to choose or change in order to leave here today eastering and living like a bride married to amazement (Mary Oliver)? That’s the only question that matters today.

Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Let’s not stop there. Alleluia. Margot is risen. Margot is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Alleluia. Mirella is risen. Mirela  is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Alleluia. Dedie is risen. Dedie is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Alleluia. Jonathan is risen. Johnathan is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Alleluia. Rudy is risen. Rudy is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Alleluia. Susan is risen. Susan is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Alleluia. Shere is risen, Shere is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Alleluia. Kate is risen. Kate  is risen indeed. Alleluia.

You get where this is going, right? We could go on for a while. So on this next one I want you to shout out your name.

Alleluia. _____ is risen. _____ is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Yes, indeed. Yes, indeed. Happy eastering!

At the Baptisms in the River....

Let me show you what I am talking about.  Here are Brittany, Almaria, and America. Aren’t they amazing? Look at them and see the miracle of life, the beauty of creation, and the image of God revealed in  human beings, is that not amazing? Take a look at them, consider all that might be for them What do you see in them that amazes you, and what if they are a mirror showing you what is amazing in your life? 

In just a few moments they will be baptized. What are your best prayers, hopes, and wishes for them? My guess is that you want them to leave the river today amazed at what has happened to them amazed at who they are, and amazed at the life that is before them. And isn’t that also what we want for ourselves? 

We want Brittany, Almaria, America and ourselves to leave here today eastering. Eastering, isn’t that a great word? That’s my word for living and making todays’s gospel true in our lives. I got it from the poet Gerald Manley Hopkins. Easter is something we believe in, eastering is something we do. 

The stone has been rolled away and the grave clothes have been laid aside so tell me, what do you need to choose or change in order to leave here today eastering and living like a bride married to amazement (Mary Oliver)? That’s the only question that matters today.

Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Let’s not stop there. Alleluia. Brittany is risen. Brittany is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Alleluia. Almaria is risen. Almaria  is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Alleluia. America is risen. America is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Alleluia. Hank is risen. Hank is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Alleluia. Rudy is risen. Rudy is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Alleluia. Susan is risen. Susan is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Alleluia. Regan is risen, Regan is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Alleluia. Asa is risen. Asa is risen indeed. Alleluia.

You get where this is going, right? We could go on for a while. So on this next one I want you to shout out your name.

Alleluia. _____ is risen. _____ is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Yes, indeed. Yes, indeed. Happy eastering!