Holy Week - by Janet

            As I sit here at my desk on the evening before Holy Week begins, I hear sirens two blocks away. Rain taps against the window. Snow is predicted for Palm Sunday. Life, and celebrations, are rarely what we think they 'should' be.

            Holy Week is my favorite week of ritual for just that reason: the ancient rituals help us remember that nothing is quite what we thought it should or would be. The rituals remind us of all our weaknesses and our strengths, of our celebrations and our sorrows.  Holy Week compresses it all into eight short days.

            We've all had our experiences of betrayal, violence, regret, death. This past week, the news has been a cacophony of it: deaths and betrayal from Europe to the Middle East, Africa, and here in the United States. The news stories have shown people suffering, helpless, mired in grief and death, horrors and fear. It's been a tough week.

            And at the same time, babies have birthed, weddings have taken place, birthdays have been celebrated, anniversaries have been rejoiced, a first lady and a queen have embraced, and lives celebrated with joyful words. It's been an extraordinary week.

            The week that comes celebrates our memories, gives them voice and heart and love. The week begins with the high celebration of joy and honor, offers a commitment of service to one another on Holy Thursday, grieves death on Friday, and comes full circle at Saturday night's Vigil to celebrate once more and reunite life: fire with water, earth with air, and death with resurrection.   

            We'll remember this Palm Sunday as the year it snowed and we had to protect the rose bushes from a hard freeze; others, the ones connected with the siren's wail, will perhaps remember a death. And may that which is holy keep and care and give succor to us all.