[ hold :: this space ]

The chapel at the entry to the church was darkened, and the stone floor covered with sand and rocks. People were invited to commit themselves to walking the path to the cross alongside Jesus over the next few days, by making their footprint in the sand.

A recording of this meditation played in the space: 

Gethsemane

The night is always our undoing.

 
All you knew to be certain becomes unknown.
All you knew to be right and true and good is tested against the shadows and whispers of loneliness and fear.

It comes up wanting. 

 
How did it seem, just hours ago, in the company of friends and a little food and wine, that there was nothing the world could throw at you that you couldn’t overcome?

You know otherwise now.

 
The daylight reminders that life surrounds you, without thought, just simply existing, have gone.
The hum of a song, the overheard conversation, the sudden shock of sunlight caught through the corner of an eye - have drained from the air. It waits, empty, ready to be filled by a lurking tangle of powers and forces beyond our knowing.

How can the world sleep? 

And in the middle of this night, all words of logic and good theology, articulated with certainty and clarity just yesterday, collapse and crumble, as you grasp for them, desperately, to make sense of what will come tomorrow.

But there is no sense to be made of this, at least none that holds up to the rigour of testing in the cold, dark garden of night.
 

You try to pray to the God you knew yesterday.

Every noise becomes sharper, has a meaning beyond itself. That footstep must belong to an intruder, or an army. A voice calling is that of an accuser, a coin falling will be the herald of betrayal. A branch snapping is an echo of a soul breaking.

 
Any way but this one, God. 

The shadows reach out, tempting, and for a moment it seems easier to succumb, to walk into all they may hold – terror, of course, but certain terror, of your own making. 

But that’s not the way of this night.

You wait as the world sleeps around you.

 
Loneliness is your only companion,

and fear is that which knows you best.

To be honest, we needn’t have bothered with the rest of the stations… the table was like a magnet. People stayed for there hours.

The ‘table’ was set up on the floor of the sanctuary - in reality, it was 10 metres of fabric laid out on the floor - with cushions around it for people to sit on. The table was laid with loaves of bread, bottles of wine and wine glasses.

"Jesus’ love never failed me yet" was playing in the background, and the following words were on the table:

    In the living of this story,
    history finds its common point.
 

    We eat bread and drink wine in the company of Jesus and his disciples on that night so long ago,
    and in the company of people of faith since that time and into the future.

    When we sit at this table,
    heaven finds its place on earth. 

Who are the people whose stories and lives brought you to this table?

Who are the people you long to join us here?

If you would like, write their names on the cloth…

The stories of holy week in the gospels are so remarkable in the understated way they’re told, yet every one of them is packed full of extraordinary drama.

The turning of the tables is one of those stories that we decided to speak for itself. So we decided that we’d show the scene after it had happened.  Bec is one of the best creators of space I know. She made a fantastic soundscape of voices and sounds, with different tracks playing on multiple cd players around the space  … which unfortunately, due to equipment failures, didn’t quite work on the night… but she also set up an amazing scene, in the body of the church, of upturned tables, scattered seeds, coins, broken pottery, feathers and bird cages. It was startling and stunning.

It was also a little too attractive for some of the children who spent time in the space… they thought they’d help make it a little messier. Unfortunately, the only photos were taken after that, when the beautiful creative mess had just got ugly…

John 12:1-8 

In the foyer of the church we played with the contrast of Mary’s deep intuitive knowledge of Jesus’ saving love, and the condemning voices of the other disciples who wanted salvation to come in a very different shape.

We had a looping animation playing, asking just what kind of saviour Jesus is, and played Lamb’s "Lullaby" over the top

            "We’ll have joys outnumbered
            We’ll share perfect moments
            You and me…"

On a table near the screen were two bowls. The first was filled with oil and had the following words next to it: 

Mary took a jar of very expensive oils, anointed and massaged Jesus’ feet, and then wiped them with her hair.

            Take some oil. . .

            make a sign of the cross on the back of your hand to take with you as you walk.

                            Let the fragrance of love be your company on this journey.

The second bowl was filled with water, and had these words next to it:

Judas, one of the disciples, asked “Why was this oil not sold, and the money given to the poor?”.

                Using your finger, write a prayer in the water…

                    for those who crush love with cynicism and power…
                    and for those who are crushed by their words and actions…

                                 Let your prayer be held in the love of God
 

Holy Week snuck up early this year, and the alt worship project had just begun… so we thought we’d aim small as we planned worship for the week. Sam, Bec and I decided we’d do just a few small stations at Wesley in the city…

Wesley Uniting Church is large and old… with a stack of redeeming qualities! There’s a beautiful chapel at the entrance to the church… there are multiple entry and exit points… the pews are movable… the sanctuary space is raised, huge, and (apart from the grand piano!) empty… 

Best of all, though, the church staff - caretakers, minister, admin staff - are absolutely brilliant. They didn’t blink an eyelid at the mess (a chapel floor that was covered in sand… a carpeted church floor covered in seeds, feathers and dirt…). When i arrived at 7.30 the next morning to begin the clean-up, i found the caretaker had already vaccumed the carpet, and was looking, bemusedly, at the sand covering the chapel floor. "I can’t quite work out where to start", he said.  They were an absolute gift.

This is how we set out the space… entry through the bottom right hand door… exit through the bottom left hand door, via the chapel…  

Over the next few days i’ll put up the outlines to the different stations.