The Holy Week Mirror Image

I am placing myself within the Holy Week drama. So instead of re-membering the week’s events, I am co-membering – placing myself in each character’s role. I got as far the Garden in Gethsemane when I realized I was penning a short story instead of a reflection. So to spare you a long read, I will share the process as a way of making my point.

I began by holding up a spiritual mirror to see myself in the story. For instance, it is not the priests questioning Jesus about His authority and teachings, but me, the guy that sits in the pew. I am the one who gets to choose which scripture lessons apply to me and those that apply to those people that irk me, and even those passages which I avoid and disagree with. And when Jesus enters the Temple, I see Jesus turning over my church’s money table – the endowment. He wants me to use the income to feed the people who are poor. Does He know that without the endowment income our church would close?

The difficult images that fill my mirror are upsetting to my soul. I am the one who falls asleep while Jesus sweats blood. I am the one who denies Him, betrays Him, yells crucify, cast lots for his robe, and even the one who holds the hammer and the nails. With grace, there are other images that are comforting because I am the one who carries His cross when He falls, pours oil on His head, and stays with Him with until his last breath.

I know it is a stretch, but I am even the donkey, pressed into service. I lose sight of Jesus as I forget that He is sitting on my back and I think the crowd is cheering for me. Funny, looking in the mirror I can see that so many times I have accepted praise when all along it was Jesus working within me.

Now I could have looked in the mirror and seen the angel in the empty tomb, or I could be the disciple that out runs Peter. Instead the image of the large stone comes into view. I am the one who tries to lock Jesus in the tomb. It is my sin, my fear, my self-centeredness that is more comfortable with Jesus being confined. In that mirror image, I can see that the tomb is my heart. And I find myself wrestling with the Holy Spirit who rolls the stone away, pushing me aside.

The last image in the spiritual mirror is recognizing Jesus in the bread and the wine. I spoke with the stranger on the walk to Emmaus but only saw Him when he broke the bread. It is this image that remains. Have a wonderful Easter!