I was running late for church. Very late. I squeezed in through a side door and sat down in the pew ahead of a couple of priests I know from around town.
It wasn't any church I go to now. It was another much newer building, suburban-looking, with carpet and modern drywall, but still with pews in the midst of it. It was an Episcopal church, with many banners and candles high up on the front wall on either side of the altar space.
The church wasn't full of what I'd call typical parishioners. It was full of mostly rough street kids who were coming to church and being brought to faith in Jesus. I knew that these were young men from a mission outreach congregation started by one of the churches I work for.
One of the best preachers I know was standing in front of the church, in the midst of his sermon. It wasn't a traditional sermon. Behind him, he had prepared four small television screens on pedestals covered with a royal blue cloth. Each of the TVs had graphics of different types of flowers. They were all rotating and spinning or otherwise engaged in some kind of action.
Below each of them was labeled the words: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter.
The preacher began talking about various palaces the Pope has for himself. (These were not true places, of course . . .) He talked about palaces in India and other palaces in Europe. After describing each of the palaces, he concluded each of his descriptions with this sentence, "When you are outside of the walls, nothing can contain you."
As he then began to speak about the flower graphics on the television, suddenly there was a commotion from the opposite side of the church from where I was sitting. Some of the guys had seen flames from one of the candles on the wall suddenly jump up and nearly catch one of the banners on fire.
I couldn't see from where I was sitting, but huge panic suddenly filled me as I was flooded with thoughts of another church fire I'd personally experienced. I jumped up to see the beginnings of these flames.
The preacher said that the flames were just larger than normal, and that nobody should worry. There was no cause for alarm. I could see that he was right. We all sat back down.
Attention again turned towards the screens, and the preacher described each of the flowers on the screens and what they symbolized. I don't remember what he was saying, but it was reaching deep into my soul as visual art or music often does, and I could feel God's presence.
The flowers on the Maundy Thursay and Good Friday screens were spinning, and they would gradually drop their petals and wilt. The graphics were on a loop, but still seemed slightly randomized so that you didn't know their exact behavior.
The Holy Saturday graphic was of images of dead flowers, perhaps with a dark thunder/lightning storm in the background. Sometimes there were pictures of dead leaves.
The preacher said that we experience all of these things during Holy Week - all of these thoughts during Holy Week, and assumably, in our lives. But even in the midst of this, we remember what spring looks like - the trees leafing and the bright sun shining.
The Easter television had pictures fading in and out of grey, foggy, mysterious and ambiguous screens of the sun shining through big, leafy, windswept trees - the ones one would see on a warm, fly-a-kite, spring day. It reminded me very much of the abstract pictures of Zen types of heaven - wide open grassy fields with a solitary tree in the center. Kind of a large, warm emptiness.
I began to cry - even to sob - because I realized there was a deep message from God in this sermon for me.
Now if I just knew what it was . . .
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