Keeping It Real with God: A Holy Week Lament

Blessed Holy Week. Here we are on Palm Sunday, the beginning of these holy days, in which we enter deeply into Christ’s Passion. We’ll read through the whole passion story in the Gospel of Matthew, almost like a preview of what’s coming the rest of the week. Then, as the week unfolds, we’ll move through each moment, each experience of the disciples and Jesus on the way to the cross.

Even though I know the story will ultimately end in resurrection, this is kind of a somber day. It will likely be a heavy week too. As I reflect on the suffering of Jesus and his loved ones, I can’t help but to reflect on my own suffering, and I think that’s kind of the point – to connect our own suffering (and ultimate rising) with that of Christ.

In the Passion account from Matthew, right before he dies, Jesus cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Honestly, this cuts right to the heart. It hurts to think that Jesus feels forsaken by God, the one who sent him, especially in his hour of need. I just can’t believe that a loving God would desert him or be far from him. Maybe I’m over-identifying because I’ve had moments when I’ve felt abandoned by God. In some of my saddest, most desolate times, I too have cried out to God: “Where are you? Have you left me to face this alone?” It’s a terrible feeling.

Something that does bring me some consolation is that the words Jesus utters are also in Psalm 22. Maybe he is voicing his raw pain at feeling forsaken by God, but maybe he’s also saying aloud the words of a prayer. And the words of that psalm prayer do bemoan feeling abandoned by God, but they express a lot more than that too.

Psalm 22 is a psalm of lament, and these kinds of psalms, as you might expect, cry out to God. They wail, they complain, they moan, they howl. They express a myriad of strong emotions – sorrow, grief, anger, dismay, rage, despair, fear. They get honest and gritty. They can be prayed with soft, slow tears or while screaming with a fist raised to the sky. Their raw, very human emotions are part of why I appreciate them so much. They express the inside parts out loud and don’t necessarily bother with politeness. They help those who pray them to show up before God honestly, as we are, without dissembling or the need to present pretty, more acceptable feelings. They keep it real.

And psalms of lament don’t stay that way; they don’t continue in the darkness or anger or despair. They may get loud with those emotions, but eventually, there’s a turn. It’s almost as if the psalmist has to get it all off their chest before they can turn to God in faith and trust and love, which they do – sometimes quickly, sometimes . . . eventually. That’s the other reason I appreciate psalms of lament. They help me to get real and raw, but they don’t allow me to stay there and ruminate or churn in those feelings forever; they help me to acknowledge how I feel and then move forward.

And that’s what Psalm 22 does. In this lament, the crying out to God and then praising God go back and forth. So, “my God, I call by day, but you do not answer; by night, but I have no relief,” is followed by, “yet you are enthroned as the Holy One; you are the glory of Israel. In you our ancestors trusted; they trusted and you rescued them.” Then, a few lines later, “but I am a worm, not a person, scorned by people.” The psalmist is suffering deeply, not unlike Jesus. People are tormenting them, and they share all of that with God but also remember the times when God has been there, how God has always been a trusted rescuer. Although the psalmist cries out to God in agony, there’s a deep trust as well. In fact, because the psalmist trusts God so deeply, they can be totally honest, knowing that God will always be there, through screaming and rejoicing.

Like many psalms of lament, this psalm ends with praise. “And I will live for God; my descendants will serve you. The generation to come will be told of God, that they may proclaim to a people yet unborn the deliverance you have brought.” It’s as if the act of praying this way helps to move the psalmist from agony to praise. Maybe it reminds the speaker that God is close. Maybe the prayer helps them to feel that God is close. Undoubtedly, God is lovingly, tenderly present throughout it all.

Just like with Jesus in his Passion. Hopefully, as Jesus prays even just that one line of Psalm 22, as he shares his agony with God, he also praises God for all that God has been and done for him. Jesus, who has such intimacy with God, experiences God’s presence with him. That’s how he can cry out in anguish so honestly. Jesus doesn’t have to show up with pretty emotions at the moment of his death. He can be real and raw. And God is with him.

So, what does all this mean for us? Can you get real and raw with God when you need to? I can, but I often don’t. I often don’t let myself get into the more difficult emotions, so I keep them at a distance, and, thus, I keep God at a distance – and myself too. Maybe what I need is a good Palm Sunday cry, or as I move through this holy week, a deep-down emotional purge. God knows there’s enough going on in the world for a wailing, chest-heaving lament. I don’t know about you, but this has felt like a particularly lenty Lent to me. We’re surrounded by news of warfare and violence, oppression of vulnerable people, despair. This is good time for Psalm 22.

Resurrection is as much a part of the story as crucifixion, and Easter is coming. But rushing that, jumping right to joy because sitting with suffering is uncomfortable, is a kind of bypass. Sometimes life calls for lament. If that’s what we feel called to over these holy days, I hope we can enter in for a proper lament. I hope we can linger with God through these holy days, however we come to them.

As we express whatever’s in our hearts and as we share it all with God, we build trust. May we have trust enough to say to God with Jesus and the psalmist, “But you, God, do not stay far off; my strength, come quickly to help me.” May these holy days help us to come to God however we are – lamenting, praising, pleading, even simply keeping still. Through it all, may we know God’s loving presence close with us. Amen.

For Reflection:

• When it comes to your prayer, can you keep it real with God? Why or why not?

• When you pray, can you feel God present with you? What helps you to know that God is there? What do you do when you feel like God is far away?

• What resonates with you from the psalm or the gospel or any of the parts of Holy Week? Maybe you could spend a little time with God and see what emerges.

By Sister Leslie Keener, CDP

Sister Leslie Keener, CDP is the director of God Space, a vibrant spirituality ministry building community in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. A Sister of Divine Providence, she holds a Master’s in Ministry and a Certificate in Spiritual Direction and Retreats from Creighton University. Sister Leslie guides retreats, offers spiritual direction, and nurtures vocations within her community. Passionate about helping people encounter God in everyday life, she delights in meaningful conversations, dancing, and spicy food.