Holy Week

Because Easter is early this year, and because Mitch’s graduation is earlier than we’d originally anticipated, Mitch’s last week of finals ever has managed to coincide neatly with Holy Week. Naturally, one event is struggling mightily to overcome the other, but I’m grateful for the tension between the two (though I don’t think I can honestly say the same for Mitch) because the holiday services provide a beautiful counterpoint to the stress of studies and finals and, in my case, plans for a fantastic graduation bash.

Of course, as we bustle from Mitch’s final presentation to a celebratory lunch with my parents to the Maundy Thursday service and from Palm Sunday service to family birthdays to yoga classes, it becomes crucial to quiet ourselves and let God remind us of what it is we walk through this week with our Savior, from Palm Sunday to Good Friday to Easter.

The flip side of this is that when the weekend comes at last we are allowed to celebrate two kinds of freedom, the one mysterious, vast and undeserved, the other tangible and immediate. One affects us now, in the present, while the other has affected us from our first breath and will affect us forever, working on our souls continually in ways we are scarcely aware of and in ways we feel all too acutely. The Resurrection is everything to us, and so we celebrate.

Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.

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