We often think that vulnerability is a kind of weakness,
but there’s a kind of vulnerability that is actually strength and presence.
Holy Week has begun in very different way this year. There were no palms to hold on Palm Sunday, no parades as we sang hosanna.
This year we face a challenge new and risk-filled. A virus! Unlike one we have ever faced before. Our need for protection, our need to be separated from one another put many of us in front of screens in our homes- be they computers or televisions – it was the way we gathered for this first day of Holy Week. The prayers, the readings and music were all familiar. Our spirits stretched to reach a common, sacred place.
It is easy to feel vulnerable. Outside of our doors there is a real sense of threat and much is unknown.
On Palm Sunday we are reminded that vulnerability is not always about weakness. The actions taken by Jesus speak to strength and courage. He entered Jerusalem, knowing it would ultimately cost him his life. He went into that city looking triumphant but he knew he was vulnerable and so he entered strong and present.
Holy week has begun in a very different way this year. Like all the people who waved palms of welcome and hope as Jesus entered Jerusalem, we cannot see the future. We can only breathe in this moment, with prayer and gentle patience
Quote: Ram Dass
There are times when everything seems so quiet. The kind of quiet that you notice. No music, no buzz of the computer, no sound of airplanes overhead – the kind of quiet that can feel unsettling. We are so accustomed to noise that we live much of our lives oblivious to how it surrounds us. Only when some of this noise is removed do we notice a difference.
And then there is the quiet Holy Saturday. The quiet that has nothing to do with noise around us. This day is about silence. The absence of a certain noise; the beating of a heart, the sound of the breath – an absence that suspends time. On this day everything is longed for. There is no surprise to the silence but instead a keen recognition of all that is missing.
Like the gray noise of the TV station off the air, we know we are in between. Between what has been and what is to come.
For many this Saturday is a time for preparation. Like being called on to stay alert and ready, we bustle about knowing that the sun will rise on Sunday to a new understanding. A grand announcement – that death was not the end, that life once again fills the air. Yet no matter how busy one seems preparing for the next sunrise… the fact remains, this day – this Saturday’s silence creates a void that cannot be filled.
Holy Saturday is a hard day. Holy Saturday is an important day. In the absence of a beating heart, our own hearts move in time. Not our time but God’s time. This day cannot be rushed.
It can only be lived.
sometimes the path goes dark and silent.
do we turn and run… or push ahead seeking light on the other side?
Door of the day… (Pinterest)
The light shifts from warm to cool.
Standing before an open doorway, we know the choice has been made and made again.
Can any one prepare for what a day might bring?
Maybe but it is always challenging to plan for how it will feel and the consequences at the day’s end.
May we walk this day present to each moment.
Door of the day… Takachiho Gorge, Japan (Pinterest)