It’s the Triduum, again.

classical art of the last supper, crucifixion and ascension

Once, as a teenager, as I sat in church and as the song was going, I thought, “How do we not get bored of singing about the same thing?”.

I was genuinely curious but did not ask it out loud since everyone seemed sincere as they sang the same few songs about the work of Christ week in and out. Back in the day, we were not introducing new songs regularly but tended to sing the same few choruses and hymns.

I did not think for once that my church was stopping me from thinking, although it did not particularly encourage me to question everything.

The song was on to its fourth verse when another thought floated around my tiny head: what if this is much more than a ‘so that’s what happened’ matter. Perhaps there is more to the sheer facts of the cruel death of Jesus.

There is.

I have been in church for nearly five decades: my wonderful foundations in my Presbyterian church, an intersection with the charismatic tradition in high school, the massive ocean of church history, a needed encounter facilitated by the Catholic tradition, and then marrying and being a part of the Methodist tradition. As a young family, we joined an independent church for a while, which had Brethren roots, then started a non-denominational church …