Holy Week Reflections

Holy Week is my favorite week of the Christian year. I love the drama, the arch of the story. Spiritually, this week is always a touchstone, a marker for me. Watching the altar being stripped on Thursday night is a reminder of getting down to to the root of my faith, clearing out all the crap. Waiting for something new to come to life. Experiencing death--painful, bloody death.

My own faith journey has taken some weird twists. My husband says I'm an Evangelical Unitarian. I think it is more complicated than a simple label.

I was born and raised an Episcopalian. Actually being Episcopal was more than my religion. It is my culture and my heritage. Many of my eariliest memories are at church. Being loved and accepted. I always knew I was someone special when I walked through those doors. I married another Episcopalian. I couldn't imagine marrying outside my tribe...my lineage. Our wedding was a true Anglican feast for the senses--smells, bells, costumes.

Over the past year we have taken a break from the Episcopal church. After 2 and half dreadful years of Episcopal seminary our wounds were pretty deep. I could never bring myself to admit how betrayed I felt by my own people. Instead, I just told myself that I needed a little something different and time to heal.

This week seemed like the perfect time to rejoin the tribe. My parents were in town and our best friends had really wanted us to join them at our home parish for Palm Sunday. This sounded good to me.

"All Glory Laud and Honor", I have sung it on Palm Sunday for 44 years. I love the music and drama of the liturgy. It didn't cick. I felt nothing. I knew the service by heart, but the heart was gone for me. I was a bit puzzled by this.

On Thusday we went to another Episcopal service. Bob preached. Maundy Thursday is my favorite service of the year. As I watched the altar being stripped, it hit me that I may never come home to the Episcopal church.

Something in my experince of faith has died--- a bloody, ugly death. We didn't really say goodbye. It wasn't like I would have hoped. But it did die---dead.

As I sit waitiing for Easter, I wonder what will be born in my heart. How will Jesus find me in new surroundings? How will I find him? This is the mystery of the tomb---like the early followers --- Jesus will raise this death into to a new life of faith. And so I sit in sadness waiting outside the tomb with heart full of anticipation for new life, new faith. While it may look different, I will know it through my soul that recognizes the One that loved me since my eariest days.