High holy days

Some days are ordinary. We get up at the usual time, have breakfast as always, go about our daily routines. These days are familiar, comfortable. Thank God for ordinary days.

But some days are holy days. Days when the architecture of time is slightly jarred and the ground shifts beneath our feet. When we pay attention to God in a sustained and purposeful way, we enter holy time.

That's what we're doing this week. We're in the high holy days of the Christian faith, and we're entering the mystery of the last days of Jesus' life. Here are the times we've set aside for contemplating the mystery:

7:00 pm, Thursday, March 28 - Maundy Thursday
Washing someone's feet is a profound act of humble service. We'll follow the example of Jesus as we remember his last supper with the disciples. Then we'll share bread and wine with each other and strip the altar and remove the decorations of the church.

12:00 pm and 7:00 pm, Friday, March 29 - Good Friday
We'll walk the Stations of the Cross as we recall the last hours of Jesus' life, and we'll pray for the Church and the world with the Solemn Collects. This is the deep time of the Christian faith, the time we connect with the suffering of Christ and the world.

6:00 am, Sunday, March 31 - Easter Vigil
We start in darkness and end in light. We start in a bare, empty room that is transformed into a place of splendor with beautiful linens, flowers, and gleaming silver. This is our experience of the resurrection of Christ.

10:00 am, Sunday, March 31 - Easter Day
With joyful music and uplifted hearts we celebrate the resurrection of Christ with a festive Holy Eucharist, followed by the frolic of an Easter Egg hunt for the children.

I hope you'll enter the deep time, the holy time, of this week with us.

In peace,
Bill

My sister's holy week

Holy Week is not easy. As we walk with Jesus in the last hours of his life, we encounter darkness and light in strange guises. Jesus takes us where we'd rather not go.

My little sister, Betty, has been in the hospital the last couple of weeks for an infection. It's made worse by the hepatitis she's been living with for twenty years and damaged her liver. She was transported by ambulance to the University Hospital in Denver on Sunday, and our whole family is holding our breath, praying.

Betty told me that she's had some dark moments. "I'm scared," she said. "I'm in a dark hole and I can't find a ladder. I laid here all day and just prayed."

I wish I had magic words to tell her that would make the darkness go away. But I don't. I listen to her as gently as I can and offer my prayers. And I think of Jesus in his last hours. His suffering gives him solidarity with all human suffering, and every person has access to his compassion and love.

Betty is slowly recovering, and I'm hopeful she'll be able to go home in a few days. In the meantime, I take comfort in the knowledge that she's not alone, that Jesus is with her in this holy week.

In peace,
Bill