Remember this Holy Week

I want to remember this: the Palm Sunday with no processions.

That's, perhaps, over generalizing. Many churches still had a version of a palm procession. My friend in Gulfport met with ministers in their new outdoor chapel for the very first time! I got to witness it on Facebook as they prayed, then processed into the church. All the ministers, lay and ordained, walking in vestments into the church, where the liturgy quickly turns from the celebration of Christ's entry into Jerusalem, to the cross. 

Palm Sunday begins our Holy Week. The Holiest week we have. When we remember the final events of Christ's death. A few people have pointed out that remembering those events sheltered in our homes, as we observe COVID-19 social restrictions may even be closer to what those original followers of Jesus experienced. All hiding from religious leaders and governmental authorities. They were hiding together. 

Here at Trinity, I didn't try to imitate a procession. We have been observing the restrictions, and under advice from our Bishop, only had three people in the church. Our organist came and shared her musical gifts. We had a reader. And I was the officiant. It was the first time I can remember not drumming or singing or gathering people away from the church so that we could process in with our palms waving, and palm crosses pinned to our clothes. 

It's all for good. The sacrifice we make this Holy Week is to stay home, and not process with one another. It's to stay home with ourselves and/or families. It is a sacrifice, because it means giving up something we love, something we value. 

I have had good days and I have had not so good days. I get grumpy, and don't know what to do with myself. I focus on the little tasks, and wish life was back to normal. I wish Eli could go to school where his teachers could make sure he gets all his work done, instead of trying to track all his work online. (His teachers are doing an outstanding job getting us the work, and even following up when we forget something. Way to go all you teachers who so quickly figured out this online-school thing.)

On the better days, maybe like today. I wake up and go pray. I notice the weather outside, and listen to the sounds of nature I can hear. I consider what creative thing I might be able to do. (My friend Billy challenged me to re-create some Holy Week drawings I lost after the hurricane...maybe I'll work on one of those.) On good days I decide to do good things. 

This Holy Week is a challenge. It has sent us to a more solitary, interior place. Maybe the processions, and multiple prayer services can just as easily serve as a distraction. This year is different, that is certain. This year, we are united with Christians and non-Christians around the world. All of us sheltered-in. All of us in different phases of experiencing a wave of a virus. All of us living with some level of fear of how this will change the world; how it will touch our lives. All of us with the opportunity to notice our interior response as we make this collective sacrifice. How will we wade through this week, whether we call it Holy or not? 

The exterior processions are canceled, but our interior lives are still at work. The palms are waving in my chest. The Upper Room of my heart is being prepared for the passover. I'm ready to break bread with only my family present as we struggle to understand what God has given to us. I want to remember.