In The Middle of Holy Week

We move so quickly through Holy Week. We move from palm branches to the cross, from grief to resurrection, from Friday to Sunday, often telling the story as if its meaning depends on how efficiently we can arrive at hope. It is as though the ending is the point, as though everything is meant to resolve as quickly as possible.

But there is a day in the middle that resists that kind of movement. It is a day where nothing is resolved, nothing is explained, and nothing is redeemed – at least not yet. It is the day after everything falls apart.

I did not understand that day until I began living it.