Monday Morning in Holy Week is, for me, and perhaps for many of you, a day of standing on the precipice looking into a chasm of holy busy-ness. Actually the Saturday before Palm/Passion Sunday is really the day to stare into that abyss. Now, today, one of the Holy Week days is already over, gone like the palm branches we blessed and waved, lingering in the aftermath of a Gospel reading that points us to what lay ahead.
And, so while Palm/Passion Sunday is over, and I try to claim some brief respite on my day off, I wonder, "How will this week go?" "Will the rehearsals help us have flawless liturgy?" (Not likely, but is perfection really the goal? Alas, I hope for it anyway).
"Will the people come to the Triduum, that service that lasts for three days and begins with Maundy Thursday, includes a prayer vigil through the night ending at the Good Friday service, continues with a brief Holy Saturday morning service and concludes with the Great Vigil, or Easter Vigil as it is also known?" In my mind, if people came to no other worship service all year, they should come to the Triduum.
...Ok, maybe that is overstating it a bit, and asking too little of people....but really the Triduum tells our salvation story with drama, passion, love - what more could a person ask for?
And, of course I wonder, will the Easter Day services be as full this year as last? Will they energize people and leave them feeling like Christ has risen, and that is Good News we should proclaim to all we meet? Sigh. Yes, on this Monday morning I have high expectations for the week ahead.
I leave you with this song from "Owl Woman" a healer of the Papago tribe in the desert Southwest, the region I live in. Also an image of a Navajo sand painting for healing, which hangs in my home office and yoga studio. It seems to me that the underlying theme of Holy Week is, will we be healed of our sins when the Easter sun rises?
How shall I begin my song
In the blue night that is settling?
In the great night my heart will go out,
Toward me the darkness comes rattling.
In the great night my heart will go out.
Brown owls come here in the blue evening,
The are hooting about,
They are shaking their wings and hooting.
Black Butte is far.
Below it I had my dawn.
I could see the daylight
coming back for me.
The morning star is up.
I cross the mountains
into the light of the sea.
(Owl Woman, from Women in Praise of the Sacred, translated by Frances Densmore, edited by Jane Hirshfield, HarperPerennial publisher, 1995)
What are your hopes for whole-ness for this holiest of weeks? Leave a comment in the comment section or a link to your blog.
(Meet and Greet will return in two weeks)