Jesus Christ and Him Crucified

Well folks, we've just finished up one of my personal favorite times of the year, the Triduum. I've often said that the period leading up to it, Lent, is the most Grace-filled period on the liturgical calendar, if you're willing to reach out and accept some. And I believe that. But there's something very special about the period of Christ's Passion that is the culmination of all that Lenten Grace (in fact, the culmination of thousands of years of divine preparation, but that's not the point I'm making).

Of course, my two favorite Masses of the year are the Evening Mass of Lord's Supper, and the Easter Vigil two evenings later. Their striking liturgical beauty, the way they bookend the Triduum, calling us to partake in the universal plea for salvation that is the Passion. Also, their length. People seem to think I'm out of my mind when I mention that I wish that Sunday Mass was about a half-hour longer. But once you realize what's happening during the Sacred Liturgy, why wouldn't you want it to last a little longer? It enraptures your mind, and you just don't want it to end. This year however, as I sat in my pew (left center, front row) on Thursday evening, and later at the Vigil, a thought struck me.

My Protestant brothers and sisters, I love you guys. We share so much, we can rejoice together in the fact that Christ paid a debt for us that we could never hope to fulfill. But guys, you've got nothing like this. And, you know, it's not your fault. The problem is, you subscribe to a theology that simply can't. It doesn't matter if you're Baptist, Presbyterian, Methodist, even Lutheran or Episcopalian. Trinitarian, Unitarian, Bitarian. Conservative, Liberal, Progressive, Universalist. It doesn't matter. You reject tenants of Christianity that prevent you from partaking in the fullness of worship.

Sermons are great. They can stir the heart and inspire us to Christian action. But they aren't the point of gathering together on the Lord's day. Theme weekends, bible lecture series, fellowship and hugs and spiritual gifts, these things are great, but they aren't the point. They never have been, they never will be. From the beginning, Christians have gathered for one reason.

Worship.

Of course, at this point you may be tempted to say "Well, I worship best listening to a great sermon and singing heartfelt hymns!". And my reply would be no. You don't. You worship best by worshiping the way God wants to be worshiped.

I don't say this to attack or condemn those that fall into the categories I mentioned. You've developed a relationship with Christ, and that's what it's all about. But at some point, you've got to take that relationship to the next level. The level Christ has called for us to attain.

My challenge to you is this: Go to Mass. The Triduum season is over, but we celebrate Christ's death and resurrection every week. Every day, in fact. Attend the liturgy and listen. Follow along and participate. Ignore the kids fighting in the pew behind you, the baby crying in the back, the bored woman fighting back a yawn in front of you, and actually get involved. Every word, every movement, every gesture and response is full of purpose, dripping with meaning, and is regarded as something sacred. Every symbol, icon, statue, stained glass window, and gilded chalice firmly points towards Jesus Christ and him crucified.

And I urge you to pay special attention to the Liturgy of the Eucharist. It is through those words that Heaven pours itself down onto the altar and Christ appears. Not the spirit of Christ, or a symbol, but Christ himself is truly present to us there, and we fall to our knees in true worship and awe.

And after you let that wash over you, realize that for all the fun and fellowship and bible study you experience at your church, the raw sacredness simply isn't there. The reverence and adoration of Christ's real presence isn't on display in all it's glory. And then realize why it can't be.

And then come home.