Over the past week
we have lived the horrible drama
of the arrest and death of Jesus.

Maundy Thursday he gave us a mandatum
to love one another as he loves us,

and he went out into the night
to be betrayed, arrested,
falsely judged, tortured,
and killed as a common criminal;
and, we watched.

He was placed in a grave
in a spent stone quarry just by the wall.

On Good Friday, this worship space
was grim and bare
- the vault of a tomb -
as we lamented the treatment by humankind
of all that is good
all that is holy;
and, we watched.

But, that in itself, watching,
is the first step to recovering
those very things that have been lost.

As Charlie noted
in his most excellent sermon last evening,
the events in Jerusalem and the West Bank
this weekend
seem to parallel the discord
of Jesus' time.

I, too, received an e-mail yesterday about noon.
This one was from our Episcopal Bishop
of Jerusalem and the Middle East,
The Rt. Rev. Riah Abu El-Assal.
He is, of course, a Palistinian.

He reports that he walked the Via Dolorosa yesterday
through empty streets.

The only sounds were the rumble of tanks
and distant gunfire.

"It was frightening," he said.
"People stayed huddled in fear inside.

Foreigners have been ordered to leave the country,
as if something dire
is about to happen."

Yet, in the midst of this horror
God continues to raise up people
of faith and peace.

"We continue to pray, hope, and work," says the Bishop,
"toward transformation
of this current reality of death."

"Perhaps, once we break with the old
and come to terms with the new,
we will celebrate a Holy Resurrection," he writes,
but, not yet.

For, meanwhile,
you and I watch
with stunned helplessness
as this holy city, this holy land,
shows itself to be anything but.

A Jewish friend of mine,
on the night of the Seder,
quite angrily cried out
that Jerusalem is turning into
a place of death
and God is doing nothing, nothing!

Well, so it seems,
But, in spite of the reverence
with which the faithful Christians, Jews,
and Moslems hold this city,
I am not sure God chose it 2000 years ago
because it was particularly holy.

Perhaps quite the contrary is true.
I might suggest to you
that God sent his Son there
on his final pilgrimage
precisely to confront the un-holiness
which had invaded
and apparently captivated
the human spirit.

God wanted a showcase,
in a place men and women least expected it,
in which evil could be seen
and clearly recognized
in the human heart.

A week ago, Jesus topped the rise
of the Mt. of Olives,
beheld the City, Jerusalem,
and cried, "Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
you who stone the prophets,
how often would I have gathered you
under my wings,
but, you would not."

And Jesus wept over Jerusalem.
He, too, looked at the lovely city
and saw it as a place of death.

God always weeps over such.
God weeps now,
and we watch in horror.

I once read a book called, "Stones, Walls, and Graves."

It is a history of the city, Jerusalem,
told by its cycle of cutting stone
from the quarries all around and beneath the city.

Such stone was then used to build walls
for houses and fortifications
to protect the inhabitants.

Then, those inhabitants were buried
back in the same quarries
from which they cut the stone.

Jerusalem is a city of the dead
more than of the living,
writes the author.

And, so it seems.
For, we have become tomb watchers, you and I,
as we observe, mouth agape,
the apparent death of hope
in the land of promise.

We are reminded of the soldiers
assigned to be tomb watchers
at the end of the Gospel
on Passion Sunday.

Fearing that the followers of Jesus
would steal the body away
in order to be able to claim
that Jesus had risen from the dead,
the leaders of the Sanhedran
asked Pilate to post soldiers
at the quarry
as tomb watchers.

Their task was to keep Jesus
in the tomb
- a job many in every age, including our own
have undertaken.

I have to laugh at the result,
as is depicted in the window behind Henry.

It shows the tomb watchers
over-whelmed, stunned, and rendered helpless
as Jesus bursts out of his tomb.
Alleluia, he is risen.

God in Holy Week shows us how he intends
to make the world, even Jerusalem, someday,
holy.

He does not do so,
can not do so,
by changing the stones of Jerusalem.

He will make Jerusalem holy
or Baltimore holy
or Monkton holy
or Saint James
or your household or mine, holy,
by changing, by transforming,
the human heart.

Perhaps some tomb watchers
all over the world
will see the horror of Jerusalem this Holy Week,
reject trading violence for violence,
and be persuaded of a better way.

Perhaps, we will recognize
our own places of death of heart and soul
in the sadness and violence of Jerusalems
of any age

Perhaps we will recognize in our vigil
a part of ourselves
which lies dormant or even dead
and in need of Resurrection.

Perhaps we can learn
to keep watch with others
during their dark times,
their long, dark nights of the soul.

Joyce Rupp, in her book, "Out of the Ordinary,"
writes that Easter is about Tomb Watches.

"It is about the love
that keeps vigil and waits
and believes in life,
no matter how dark and empty
and cold
things seem."

Watch, weep, and pray
fellow Christians.

Discover, for sure, the bankruptcy
of the fear and escalating violence
you see in the city God would have be holy.

Use this Eastertide
to identify God's in-breaking
transformative power
for your own life,
your own places of darkness.

For, God will heal the world
one human heart at a time.

There is no reason to watch any longer
if we get the point.
The defining moment is here.

The Day of Resurrection has begun.

Alleluia,
Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen, indeed,
Alleluia.