We’re a few days into Passiontide already, but Holy Week is still not quite here, so this is a good time to share this introduction to Passiontide, Holy Week, the Triduum, and Easter/Pascha.
subject index:
Hymn: Cross of Jesus, cross of sorrow
Passiontide doesn’t start, technically, until the 5th Sunday in Lent, commonly called Passion Sunday, but we’re going to look at a passiontide hymn today.
Cross of Jesus, cross of sorrow,
Where the blood of Christ was shed,
Perfect man on thee was tortured,
Perfect God on thee has bled.
This is a phenomenally theological opening for a piece of music. The mystery of the incarnation is explored, wherein we see Jesus as fully God and fully man. The cross, particularly, is his place of suffering and sorrow. One may wish to say that Jesus technically suffered only with respect to his human nature, but the hypostatic union (or the perfect conjoining of divinity and humanity in his singular person) is such that all the experiences of Jesus, be they human or divine, are fully shared in both natures. Thus we are perfectly right in saying that God bled on the Cross.
Here the King of all the ages,
Throned in light ‘ere worlds could be,
Robed in mortal flesh, is dying,
Crucified by sin for me.
The scope of that first scene on the cross is widened massively in both directions through time. First it points backwards into eternity past, wherein we see the eternal reign of God and the sharing in power and light that the Son has always had with the Father. And then it points forward from the cross to you and me; we are recipients of the grace of that death. He died for the sins of real people, not just for some abstract cause, however noble.
O mysterious condescending!
O abandonment sublime!
Very God himself is bearing
All the sufferings of time.
This third stanza just takes a moment to reflect in wonder on what has thus far been said. After all, if Jesus was just God and not man, such suffering would be abstract, meaningless, even a mockery of real human suffering. And if Jesus was only man and not God, the gravity of his condescension and abandonment of divine rights would be nullified. The cross is only significant because the God-Man himself died there.
Evermore, for human failure,
By his passion we can plead;
God has taken mortal anguish;
Surely he will know our need.
Now we get a more explicit application, or lesson, from the theological assertions and emotional outpouring of this hymn. Because Christ has suffered and died specifically for the sins of the whole world, we can plead for the forgiveness of all our sins based squarely and solely upon that death. Not only can we be sure it is a valid and sufficient sacrifice for our sins (because Jesus is God), but we can also be sure that God is sympathetic to our plight (because Jesus is man).
Once the Lord of brilliant seraphs
Winged with love to do his will,
Now the scorn of all his creatures,
And the aim of ev’ry ill.Up in heav’n, sublimest glory
Circled round him from the first,
But the earth finds none to serve him,
None to quench his raging thirst.
This is an unusual turn for a hymn. Normally the “application” verse that turns to the self is the last one. And four verses is a pretty standard length, at that. But instead we get these 5th and 6th verses after, in which we meditate further on the glory of Christ and his undeserved death. Both of these stanzas contrast the eternal glory he enjoys in heaven with the scorn and abuse he received on earth.
The hymn ends with a verbatim repeat of verse 1. The structure of the 7 stanzas are thus somewhat chiastic:
1: Cross & hypostatic union
– 2 & 3: meditations on the mystery of Christ’s two natures
– – 4: Application
– 5 & 6: meditations on how Christ is treated in these two realms
7: Cross & hypostatic union
Passion Sunday Coming Up
After Lent’s lighter moment on its 4th Sunday, things really start to ramp up on the 5th Sunday. This is nicknamed Passion Sunday, even the Passion Gospel itself is not read on this day.
As I introduced this day in a previous post, it is an anticipation of Palm Sunday. A noteworthy feature of the traditional lectionary was that major Sunday commemorations tended to have a follow-up Sunday to further explicate its meaning, but in the case of Palm Sunday, that follow-up had to be a preview Sunday instead. Originally, the Gospel was Jesus’ speech about “before Abraham was, I am” – asserting his divinity. This was paired with a lesson from Hebrews about his priestly sacrifice, so the theological import of his death on the Cross would be better appreciated on the following Sunday. The modern calendar carries out a similar function using the Gospel stories of the resurrection of Lazarus, Jesus’ saying that “the son of man must be lifted up,” and the parable of the wicked tenants. The traditional Collect was similar to those for the 2nd and 3rd Sundays, with a thematic similarity to the Collect for Good Friday, making it serve as another “preview” of the Passion to come. The modern Collect, however, is a transfer from what was originally an Eastertide Collect, asking God to fix our hearts where true joy is to be found, despite our unruly wills and affections. As far as I can see (thus far), this somewhat weakens the traditional Passion Sunday function.
One of the old traditions that typically began with this day is the covering, or veiling, of images in the church building. All the statues, icons, even crucifixes, would have some sort of shroud or veil obscuring them. In past days where church buildings were beautifully and vividly decked with visual splendor, this would have been a stark sight to behold. On one level this tradition is easy to understand as an anticipation of the starkness of Holy Week: the mourning of Christ’s death on account of our sins, the injustice of his conviction, is aptly expressed in the covering of images that normally bring us joy.
But there are also connections to the liturgy of Passion Sunday itself that probably play a role in this. The traditional Gradual, from Psalm 143, contains the verse
Hear me, O Lord, and that soon, for my spirit waxeth faint: * hide not thy face from me, lest I be like unto them that go down into the pit.
– a plea that is given an extra layer of personal devotion when the visual depictions of God and his Saints are literally hidden from your face that morning!
The traditional Epistle, from Hebrews 9, also contains a thematic link. Starting in verse 11, “CHRIST being come an High Priest of good things to come, by a greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hands; that is to say, not of this building; neither by the blood of goats and calves; but by his own blood he entered in once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us.” It is fitting, therefore, to cover all the things in the church “made with hands”, to remind people that these images are merely images of the Truth to whom they must ultimately look.
Finally, and perhaps most bluntly, the traditional Gospel for the 5th Sunday ends with the Jews wanting to stone Jesus for claiming equality with God, “but Jesus hid himself, and went out of the temple.” Sure enough, as you look around the room back then, Jesus has hidden himself; his images are covered. Suddenly you find yourself in the place of those who would kill Christ – he is hidden from you. This is very much an anticipation, in tone, of the final rejection of Christ on the following Sunday: “Crucify him!”
Chances are, however, that your church building is not adorned with wall-to-wall pictures, icons, artwork, and lined with alcoves with statues of our Lord and our Lady and the Saints. Directly appropriating that old tradition may not have anywhere near the usual impact in many church buildings today. So what might we do instead?
- put a veil over the altar cross
- print a service bulletin with no cover art
- silence some or all of the instruments
Be creative! How else might you ratchet up the experience of Lent?
The Saint Aelfric Customary 