Holy Week

How did Jesus’ last week become Holy when it was filled with so many experiences that seem anything but holy? I guess it began well on Palm Sunday when he entered Jerusalem with a parade of enthusiastic greeters who welcomed him with shouts of “Hosanna” and “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.” It was a dramatic entrance worthy of an opening song to any Easter Cantata. With palm branches waving and quotes from scripture being sung, it had the mark of the divine, the holy on it. Praise was in the air, and the emotion of joy filled Jesus and his followers.

Yet shortly afterward, Jesus found himself in the temple, filled with hot anger, his emotions boiling over as he watched what was happening. His Father’s house had become a marketplace, a “den of thieves,” and he grabbed a whip, snapped it loudly, and began overturning the tables in a wild display of holy anger at what he saw. Nothing sacred here. 

Soon, back-alley deals would be made. Judas would start looking for a way to betray Jesus. He was still part of the inner circle, but his heart was no longer in it. Was it grief, disappointment, disillusionment, or the devil himself guiding Judas to make such a damning decision to betray Jesus? Still, Holy Week had much darkness creeping within it. 

A meal would soon follow between Jesus and His followers. Perhaps sitting down at the table would help calm the sea of emotions everyone was experiencing. Jesus spoke of the peace He would give them, but it was a peace that would come through leaving—through death. Sorrow and sadness filled the upper room. Troubled hearts beat in unison around the table. What was Jesus really saying? Peace through departure—departure that would come not with loving embraces but through denial, desertion, and even betrayal. It’s hard to find the holy in such a moment; it feels more like all hell is breaking loose. 

Blood, body, drink, eat. Can Jesus make it any more confusing? Life is confusing. Life is stressful. Teary eyes, trying to make sense of where things are. Jesus’ eyes now turn to the garden to go and pray. He needs time. 

Descending deep into Gethsemane’s darkness with a few of his disciples close by Jesus weeps and wrestles as the Holy Son of God kisses the dust of the garden soil in prayer. The prayer: “Is there another way to carry out your will?” Is this path to the cross the only way?” Does suffering have to define my story?” Tears and blood flowed mingled down. But not my will, but your will be done.

When his time alone ends and he returns to find his disciples sleeping, the betrayal unfolds. Led by Judas and a kiss, the soldiers arrest Jesus. After a little resistance from a few of his disciples, they flee into the darkness. Where is the holy? Again, it seems like hell has the upper hand. We are a long way from the joy of Palm Sunday. This is a time of darkness. 

What will follow are trials filled with accusations and lies. Condemnations and judgments will dominate. Beatings, mockery, and humiliation will form the chorus as Jesus is quickly condemned to death by Holy Men. But where is the Holy of Holy Week? He is now truly alone. Everyone has abandoned or denied him. 

Let it be done. Crucifixion is messy. Carry your cross to your death as you are mocked along the way. Public shame. Stripped, beaten, and for all to see. A reality show before there was such a thing. “Give him holy hell.” Hammers and nails do their work. Wood beams now lift up this one who came in the name of the Lord. “Holy, Holy, Holy.” I think not. Nothing seems holy here. It seems downright evil to kill a person this way. But this is how Jesus will die. He will speak from the cross: why, forgive, I thirst, paradise, my mother, receive my spirit, God, why have you forsaken me? Not the lyrics to any holy song. And then he breathes his last. 

How did all of this become holy? Especially when the week was filled with so many tough experiences. It felt more like a week of hell. We all go through times in life when we feel stuck in an endless cycle of difficult conditions that we can’t escape. Our emotions range from grief to anger to feelings of abandonment, isolation, and loss. Nothing seems holy. Sometimes God feels absent: “My God, my God, why have your forsaken me?”

Jesus’ week became holy not because it was free from pain, but because God was present in every moment of it. Holy Week was filled with betrayal, sorrow, injustice, loneliness, and suffering. Yet not once was Jesus abandoned by the Father. Even in the darkest moments, God was still there. And that speaks to us. Our difficult times can become holy, too. Not because suffering is good, and not because hardship feels sacred, but because God’s holy presence meets us even there. We cannot separate hell from the Holy, because no place is so dark, broken, or painful that God will not enter and stay with us. As Deuteronomy declares, “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” The holiness of our hardest seasons is found in this promise: we do not walk through them alone.