04/14/2025
And so, here we are in Holy Week. We’ve walked these forty wilderness days alongside Jesus and it has led here, to these moments spending time with the final days and hours of his life. Yesterday was Palm Sunday, ushering us into the Jerusalem narrative, processing from the ‘before’ of Jesus’ life and ministry and healing and preaching and raising the dead into the passion of Holy Week. He is welcomed in by the people, but the wheels are already turning for the ending of his life by the religious establishment.
Thousands of years after the events themselves, we spend time with them, lean in, let them invite us into new awareness. These rhythms of commemorating Holy Week have been around for a long time. For centuries, the church has leaned into these days, these final moments in the life of Christ. And whether or not we find our rhythms rooted in a particular community of faith in this season, Holy Week makes space for us to lean in, to wonder, to observe and accompany and receive and grieve.
What have your experiences with Holy Week been? How have they been life-giving or orienting for you in the midst of everything else going on in your life and our world? Or is this whole thing new to you? Perhaps you’ve known Good Friday—and of course Easter—but the rest of this is unfamiliar. How might you be invited to lean into *this* Holy Week, however your experience with it has (or has not) been in the past?
Today, Holy Monday, we see Jesus cursing the fig tree and overturning tables, his anger at the ones who should be bearing good fruit and leading his people into life—but are barren and unjust instead—clearly on display. How does Jesus’ anger make space for you to join in, this Holy Monday? To name the ways this world is not as it is meant to be, perhaps even to confront some place of injustice that you are particularly passionate about?
Jesus experiences so many emotions this week. His tears over Jerusalem, the angry whip, the agony in the Garden, the joy of intimate friendship, the pain of betrayal, and all that comes with physical pain. May these rhythms, these moments, offer you permission to feel, too, this Holy Week, alongside the ever-compassionate One.