March 22, 2024

It's the time of year when I tell you how great church is. And how you should come!

It's not meant to be a guilt trip, it's just that I get really nerdy about Holy Week. One thing I love about it is that Holy Week is completely countercultural. l love that Holy Week invites us to immerse ourselves in our holy story, somewhat apart from the busy-ness of the rest of the world. It is a lot of church in one week, and believe me, I understand that it might not work for you, for whatever reason: time, interest, logistics. Yet, this is the opportunity we have each year to actually live our Great Story. To allow it to direct the rhythm of our days and the beat of our hearts, for the span of a week. 

Over the course of this week, we’ll wave palms and shout Hosanna, take time for contemplative prayer, and wash one another’s feet if we're brave enough to be that vulnerable. (It's not required but it sure is powerful.) We'll break bread and drink wine. We'll wince at Peter, and know he is us. We'll gather at the foot of the cross and allow ourselves to feel pain and loss. And then we'll wait. Our culture is not good at waiting (and neither am I) but on Holy Saturday, we do it anyway, as we anticipate holy mystery. On Saturday night we'll gather in the darkness, echoing the darkness just before Creation. We'll light the first fire, and then we'll start to retell the story from the very beginning, just as people have for thousands of years.

When Sunday morning breaks we'll ring bells and sing with joy and we'll celebrate that empty tomb. I love that we'll be celebrating something we cannot explain!

I think we tend to consider this as a week of grief and heaviness. And it does involve those elements. But It's also about the mystery, and the grittiness, and the radical transformation that the teachings Jesus invites us to live. It's an embodied experience of the challenges and joys we encounter when we throw ourselves into the Way of Love.