Then He returned to the disciples and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and resting? Look the hour is near, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us go! Here comes my betrayer!
- Luke 26: 45-46
Holy Week is like transition labor – the final agonizing, life producing push you didn’t think you had in you. Don’t get me wrong, the services are beautiful and reverent but they are long and many, and extra good at highlighting one’s deep seated preference for time spent “my way.” When feeling overwhelmed by the prospect of Church, Church and more Church – more praying, more kneeling, more Scripture reading – I think of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane sweating blood, racked with the turmoil of foreknowledge, asking his apostles to at the very least stay awake with Him.
I’ve been spiritually drowsy while moving, painting, organizing, pining for a new espresso colored leather armchair, the last several days. Interruptions to my agendas have not exactly been welcome. This is me pausing to change gears, to get my head in the game so to speak. Breath in, breath out, think about where you are. Nothing else matters more than this. I can at least stay awake, the very least I can do is show up and stay awake, praying Holy Week will pierce through the callousness and soften my soul.
Rise! Let us go!