Holy Week Reflections, part two.

Vulnerability, service, & breaking the silence of holy week.

Erin’s Lent study this year is exploring holy week a little bit differently than most, placing many common readings on different days than normal. But it seems to be fitting what God is teaching me, so I’m going with it. Today’s lessons drawn caught me off guard. The silence of holy week was broken with two voices, responding to Jesus’ vulnerability & service.

In two different snippets of stories, Judas & Peter each speak up.

As Mary, Lazarus’ sister, meets Jesus at his feet during a meal to wash his feet and anoint him with expensive oil, Judas speaks up, speaks against her vulnerability.

Later, Jesus is the one that kneels to wash his disciples’ feet, and Peter breaks the awkward silence of that moment, refusing this act of service.

As often the case, their words reveal their hearts:

Judas reveals greed and a pompous attitude towards the vulnerability and service Mary offers Jesus.

Peter reveals stubbornness and a refusal to accept the new terms of redemption that Jesus offers–through vulnerability and service.

{Side note here: I love this connection between Mary & Jesus here. It is profound.}

Important to these breaking-silence-moments is this: Jesus washes both Judas & Peter’s feet.

Despite the fact that, at this point, Judas’ heart is completely given over to betraying Jesus for money. Despite the fact that Peter doesn’t fully understand what Jesus is doing.

Jesus still gives grace. He still shows them the way of redemption: vulnerability, service, washing feet.

One will refuse that way. One will receive it as only grace can help him do.

But for now, the silence settles back over that room, back over the disciples. Jesus gets up, but remains vulnerable and open, telling his disciples that they won’t understand now, but they will. Still, it’s awkward and hard and full of questions. But one thing fills that silence–this Jesus is unlike anything or anyone they ever thought before. He is continuing to turn everything upside down.

Still, they stay. They stay with him, listening intently. And they wait silently– the silence their own vulnerability in this waiting–for what happens next.