(Editor’s note: Columns often contain opinions, and those opinions belong to the author.)
In Augusta, we have two Holy Weeks. The first and most important is the liturgical week we’ve just observed which just has one name for Christians, Holy Week.
But then there is another Holy Week and for golfers it’s known as Masters Week. Drive down Washington Road and as soon as you pass the turn off for I-20, you begin seeing all the signs. Tickets wanted. Any day. Practice round needed.
If you are one of the chosen, as you walk to the Augusta National Golf Club, people are all around you, holding up one finger, two fingers, indicating the number of tickets they need. And you pass right by them all, because you’ve got the Golden Ticket that lets you into a place many only dream about.
The exclusivity of the Masters is part of the allure; to be on the inside rather than the outside looking in. But since this past week has been Holy Week for Christians, I have a different take on our little tournament.
What if you had a badge for the Masters, and as you passed you all these people holding up their hands saying, “I just need one”, you could say to them, “I have your ticket right here. Come on in. You’re going to the Masters.”
The holy week of golf in Augusta is about who can get in and who can’t. But our Holy Week as Christians has been about one man, our Master Jesus Christ. Jesus isn’t about exclusivity but inclusivity. Jesus isn’t about keeping people out but bringing people in. It is Jesus who says to each of us, “I have your ticket right here. Come on in. You’re going with the Master.”
That’s the invitation of Easter, to walk with Jesus the risen Lord. If a golf lover was given the opportunity to go to the Masters they would jump at the opportunity. But when we are given the opportunity to walk with the Master, the reaction is somewhat different. Hesitation.
Maybe we hesitate because we’re a bit like Groucho Marks who said, “I would never want to belong to a club that would have me as a member.” Ever feel that way? And then there’s the experience of never knowing exactly what’s going on. Those few times I’ve been to the National, I felt like a fish out of water. Although I can recognize some of the players, I don’t know their stats like people around me. Or I’ll be at one hole and then somewhere over the course, I’ll hear a huge roar from the crowd and wonder, “What happened? What did I miss?”
What I’ve just described is not a golf tournament but their experience of coming to church. We’re not sure we have the right clothes; we have no idea what everybody is talking about or if John 3:16 is some kind of funky golf score. And then when people begin shouting, Alleluia! Christ has risen, the Lord has risen indeed, Alleluia!, we wonder, what happened? What have I missed?
And if you think I’ve just described a newcomer’s experience of church, I’ve also just described the experience of the first Easter morning, when no one really knew what was going on, only that something had happened.
Some people like Mary Magdalene go the message almost immediately, but as you read through the resurrection stories, you’ll realize that many people didn’t have a clue as to what was going on. You and I are in good company when it comes to encountering the Easter experience with questions, as well as awe and wonder. And that’s exactly how it should be.
So, however you are observing Easter, just remember you’re not alone. It is Jesus who had said to you, “I’ve got your ticket. Come on in. You’re going with the Master?” And Jesus will teach you everything you need to know. It will be even better than walking the course with Jack Nicklaus. And the roar of the crowd? It’s the roar of welcome for the Messiah, the Master. It’s a roar of welcome for you.
The Rev. Dr. Cynthia Taylor, is a retired Episcopal Priest and full-time animal lover. She volunteers with her corgi, Zelda, who is a therapy dog.
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