Friends, an apology.
I know it’s not necessary. I know you will understand. I know because of the beauty of your souls and the glory that is in each of you, the shimmer of God’s image that graces you every time you smile. I know.
But I wanted to say it (write it! per Elizabeth Bishop), because I had the best intentions for Holy Week.
Instead of writing out a reflection on each of the icons for Holy Week, a kind of guide and confessional, a sense of watching the mystery unfold together, I’ve been thrown into a living icon of this week. One I didn’t choose, but chose me, chose us—which is what Holy Week is all about anyway.
On Tuesday, my beautiful community of stumbling saints and sassy sinners lost one of our own in a horrible accident. Kevin leaves behind a deep-hearted wife and a 5-year-old pixie girl, and our community reels, our hearts smashed.
Kyrie eleison
Christi eleison
Kyrie eleison
That’s what we’ve been breathing in and out, what I’ve been breathing in and out—gasping, hoping, living this week together.
There are no meditations on icons here this week because I am living in one. It is holy. It is hard. It is hopeful.
Tonight we will wash one another’s feet, and watch the cross covered as Christ is taken away to be tired. Tomorrow, we will gather in solemnity, knowing His is crucified. Saturday, normally a day of holy silence, we will break the hush to honor the life of a man we love, whose life has been cut short. And Easter we will gather again—holy, hopeful, broken and brave.
I’ve been here, in this place, and not with you all, on this blog. I know that you understand, that you will pray with us and you know I am praying with you as you each journey into Holy Week in your own way.
Thank you for your grace as my plans were taken over by His plan. May that always be true of us.
It is hard. It is holy. It is hopeful.
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” John 13:34