I think this has officially been the fastest, Lent-iest Lent that ever Lented. All of us likely gave up way more than we were planning to, and with our attention so constantly drawn to the crisis at hand, time has flown by in a way that it usually doesn’t this time of year (especially given typical weather up North!). Whether it’s seemed as fast to you, either way, Holy Week is now upon us. It will be different. It already is. 

This was the first Palm Sunday I didn’t spend in a church. At 27, that isn’t saying as much as my brothers and sisters in Christ who are much older and wiser than I, but it does make a striking comparison to my children’s experience. My son is just 2, almost 3, and my daughter isn’t even a year. I’m not sure my son even remembers what Holy Week was like for him last year, let alone the year before, but he’s old enough now that such things as the Good Friday Tenebrae service and Easter Sunrise service make an impression. Except that this year will be different. It already is.

There are images floating around the internet sharing a striking message:  that this Easter will be more like the first Easter than any of us have ever seen. I think there’s something to it. As much as I will miss the joyous thunder of the organ and the full sound of hundreds of voices lifted in familiar hymns, perhaps there is something valuable to be gained from a quieter Easter sequestered in our homes. Perhaps we have an opportunity to reflect on the Resurrection narrative in a way we couldn’t have before. Perhaps the relative quiet will underscore the quiet of the empty tomb. Perhaps the longing for gathering with the Church will remind us how central Christ is among the usual trappings of baskets and chocolate. Perhaps we can more easily sympathize with the disciples who were hidden away, afraid of a suddenly and cruelly uncertain future, not knowing the wondrous events unfolding at the tomb beyond their closed doors. 

Thanks be to God, we do know what happened Easter morning. Jesus’ death and resurrection set us free to wait on what the future holds, not with trepidation, but with hope and confidence that God will keep His promises at the last. Everything will be different, and yet it already is. Those poor disciples did not yet know the joy that would soon find them, but we do. We are an Easter people here and now. And one day (by all accounts, one day soon) we will know fully and completely the joy in store for all God’s children.

Romans 8:18: “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”

One day all the Church will capture That bright vision glorious,

And your saints will know the rapture That Your heart desired for us,

When the longed-for peace and union Of the Greatest and the least

Meet in joyous, blest communion In Your never-ending feast.

LSB 445:5

Dear Heavenly Father, we pray that You would be with us this Holy Week. Turn our hearts to the Passion of Your Son; to the great and terrible work He undertook for our sake. Comfort us, as we spend this Eastertide differently than in other years, that You have promised to be in our midst, and that even now Your Word never returns empty. In Jesus’ name and for His sake, Amen.