Reflections on Holy Week, 2018
An older couple, shuffling steps, bent backs, leaning heavily on canes. Helped by others as they kneel to wash each others feet. Love so beautiful it takes my breath away.
Bricks clang and thud as they land at the foot of the cross, the weight of sin and shame made tangible. The wood of the cross rough beneath my palm as I kneel to pray. Can I give my bricks over to Jesus? Do I dare place them on the Son of God? But can I carry them myself?
It is finished.
Cross veiled, altar bare. We hear the long story of salvation: Creation. Abraham and Isaac. The Israelites saved through the Red Sea. Dry bones taking on flesh, breathing again. My daughter dancing in the dark.
And then: lights, bells, deafening alleluias, flowers everywhere, the veil removed. Mary Magdalene meeting the risen Christ. My daughters twirling down the aisle, flowers in their hair, ribbons in their hands. I join them.
It is dark outside. But He is Risen.
Banners, flowers, bells, gold and white. Loud alleluias. Joy. Jesus calls Mary by name.
He knows my name.
He is risen indeed.