BLESSED HOLY WEEK

An Old Russian Icon for Holy Week

By Bp. Joseph (Ancient Church of the West) 

Blessed Holy Week, O sacred time! 

We draw near to the Upper Room, where the Lord of Glory humbles Himself to wash the feet of His disciples, and gives us the Mystical Supper - His Body broken, His Blood outpoured - for the life of the world. 

We kneel with trembling hearts in the Garden of Gethsemane, where the Eternal Son groans beneath the weight of sin, and His sweat falls like drops of blood to the ground. 

We follow, with bitter sorrow, through the halls of unjust judgment, as the Judge of all the earth is mocked and condemned by men. 

We behold the scourging of the Innocent One, the King crowned with thorns, and the Lamb led to the slaughter - silent before His shearers.

We climb the hill of Golgotha, that dread and holy mount, where Mercy and Truth meet together, where Righteousness and Peace have kissed each other (Psalm 85:10). 

There, lifted high upon the Tree, He stretches out His arms between earth and heaven, bridging the abyss between God and man. 

We stand in awe, and weep as the sun hides its face, and the veil of the Temple is rent in twain. We hear His final cry - 

It is finished! - 

and we bow our heads as He gives up the ghost. 

He, the Prince of Life, enters the realm of the dead, not as one defeated, but as a conquering King. He descends to the depths to preach to the spirits in prison (1 Peter 3:19), to lead captivity captive (Ephesians 4:8), to crush the serpent’s head in the place of skulls.

We lament. We wait. We bury Him who is the Resurrection and the Life. 

We are dust and ashes, and in our grief we lie down with Him in the tomb, crying out, “O Lord, in the grave who shall give Thee thanks?” (Psalm 6:5). 

Yet even here, in the valley of the shadow of death, our hearts begin to stir, for the ancient hymn rises: “Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.”

And then - O unlooked-for wonder! - before the dawn, the earth quakes, the stone is rolled away, and He who was dead now lives forevermore! 

Death is swallowed up in victory (1 Corinthians 15:54)! The Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared to Simon! (Luke 24:34) 

He tramples down death by death and upon those in the tombs bestows life. 

He is revealed as God, our Friend, our Master, our Teacher, our Brother—now seen in His glory as the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End.

We pray. We chant the ancient hymns. We process with palms and candles. We beat our breasts. We fall to our knees. We rise again on Saturday night with songs of triumph.

For in the darkest hour - the Death of God, the death of our only Hope - we have found the Mystery of mysteries: 

That He is the Resurrection. 

That He is the Life. 

That He is God with us. 

And that He has redeemed all things.

We wait, and in our solemn, silent, trembling, fearful, overwrought, painful, impassioned, hope against all hope, as we light the candles of our Easter Vigil, we will cry - “Alleluia! Alleluia! Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!” 

The Traditional Greek Icon of the Resurrection, Preserved at St. Katherine’s Monastery in Sinai 

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