Day 46: Holy Saturday

 

My childhood memories of Holy Saturday are that it was kind of a day spent in limbo. It didn't carry all the excitement and suspense of Christmas Eve nor all the austerity and sadness of Good Friday. It was more of a day of preparation and recovery. Mom would put some eggs, bread and sausage (and always a bottle of horseradish) for Easter Sunday's meal into a couple of baskets and we would take them to church where Father would bless them as part of a tradition popular among the Poles. Part of the day would be spent coloring eggs and helping in the kitchen, but overall, I always recall the day feeling kind of "numb" to me. Now that I have a few more years under my belt and some deeply personal experiences of death, I might compare the day's feeling to that of a wake: one is emotionally drained from the initial shock of the loss of a loved one, leaving behind a headache, a racing mind and a general sense that the whole thing is surreal and can't be true. This is a dream right? This really can't be happening, can it? 

I really have not had that feeling about Holy Saturday for many years, but I sense that today is going to be like that for me once again . . . torn between the anticipation of what is to come but not being able to fully let go of that which has already happened.

The question du jour yesterday from the friends I ran into at the Walk for Justice was, "I bet you can't wait until Sunday, can you?" (In this sense, I felt a connection to the Muslim experience of Ramadan where it is very common to ask one another, "How is the fast?") Surprisingly, I don't have much of a ready response for that question. For some reason, I felt a bit uneasy talking about it. It made me question one last time whether or not I should have blogged about the fast. It has been a constant internal battle for me trying to come to terms with sharing this deeply personal experience in such a public fashion and I guess it will be that way until the bitter end. "Yeah," I would say, "I will certainly be glad when Easter is here." But deep down there was so much more I could have said. Self-doubt is not one of my more endearing qualities.

About an hour and a half ago I woke up early for what will have been my final pre-sunrise breakfast on what may prove to be one of the longest days this entire Lent. We will be attending the Easter Vigil at 8:00pm and I am presuming that Mass will be about two hours long, potentially making it as much as sixteen hours between meals. As such I have been both looking forward to and dreading this day all week.

And perhaps that is what this day may have been like for Jesus' family and friends. The reality of what happened the day before weighed heavy on their hearts, making this day a painful one full of doubt, fear and lingering sadness. At the same time they must have been looking to the future and asking, "What next? Where do we go from here?"

That is a question I ask myself, "What next? Where do I go from here?" Perhaps the joy of Easter will bring some clarity to this, but I doubt it. In many ways I feel like I have not even begun to understand the meaning of the past forty-six days. Being able to eat whenever I please is not really going to be an answer either. Offering material answers to spiritual questions seems a tactic necessarily doomed to failure. Maybe that is the real gift of this Lenten Ramadan . . . a conditioning of the self into a heightened awareness of what lies beyond the stomach and the mind, a recognition of the God who is both present to me and escapes my grasp at the same time.

Meanwhile, like Jesus' friends I will wait, not knowing what tomorrow will bring.

Day 45: Good Friday

What can I write about Good Friday and the suffering and death of Jesus that hasn't already been written by countless Church Fathers and theologians or preached in a million homilies and sermons in churches across the globe throughout history? Nothing, I presume, and that is fine. I am just one of billions of people on this planet trying to make sense of the historical events of this day and I would be foolish to think that I possess a depth of insight that can offer anything.

All of Lent has been building up to these moments and here I sit in front of the computer uncertain of what to write. It is the morning of Good Friday and I am not sure when I will have the opportunity to do this later. With the Walk for Justice, a three hour car ride to my in-laws and what will no doubt be a busy evening with playing kids and conversation, the only thing I am certain of today is that this is the one and only time I will be available to write.

And so I am empty.

And maybe emptiness is one of the myriad meanings of this day. We often hear of Jesus "emptying himself" on the cross, and that is true enough, but the emptiness of which I am thinking is the emptiness of hopelessness and abandonment and fear. That is something that speaks to me each Good Friday . . . the emptiness I feel as a human being for what we not only did to Jesus some two thousand years ago but the emptiness which comes from not learning our lesson. How many people today must feel the same hopelessness and abandonment expressed by Jesus in his final moments of life as we know it as he cried out, "My God! My God! Why have you abandoned me!" How many people today feel this through their mourning, their poverty, their imprisonment, their victimization at the hands of another, their spiraling further and further into the depths of addiction, their unplanned pregnancy, their impending deportation, their job loss, their physical limitations, their psychological state, their political oppression, their firsthand experience of the destruction of war and violence or any untold other afflictions that haunt the human family day in and day out.

I believe in my heart that these days of the Triduum speak to that kind of emptiness. To ignore that there is suffering is to be naive. To sugar-coat the suffering of others by glibly saying that "It is God's will" or "It will be OK," as well-intentioned as it may be, fails to recognize the genuine pain that is so real in our lives. To say that Jesus, due to his divinity, was able to overcome the pain of the cross in some super-human way because he knew what it was all about seems not only to be a borderline heresy, but it ignores the reality of the Incarnation. God became human and knows the pain we feel. I don't see the cross as some glorification of suffering or the final proof that Jesus suffered more than we will ever know. I see the cross as Jesus' complete and total identification of our suffering and the affirmation that God is with us in our humanity no matter what. Jesus did not suffer to attract our attention and adoration. He did not suffer to prove to us once and for all that he is the Messiah. He did not suffer so that we would be repulsed to the point where we felt we would have no choice but to receive his message see his death as salvific. Jesus' suffering is the ultimate act of meeting us where we are. It is an affirmation that our suffering is real, that he shares in it, that the forces of darkness in this world often seem to prevail against even the most innocent and holy among us.

What makes this day even remotely tolerable, of course, is the fact that we have the benefit of knowing how the story ends. What ultimately allows us to swallow this bitter pill is the knowledge of what happens on Easter morning. But Jesus' closest friends did not have the luxury of that knowledge. His mother did not have that source of comfort. It is a point of theological debate as to what extent Jesus himself even knew of the outcome. And even in our own suffering, as we live amidst the cloud of doubt and uncertainty that is the human condition, even for those of us with the deepest conviction of faith we may find only a little peace at the moment of our greatest anguish.

Knowing the end of the story, however, is not a cop out. It is essential. That is at the very heart of the gospel message.

But today we are empty and that cannot be denied. I pray that Easter will forever come and that we will not lose hope in the face of that emptiness.

Day 44: Holy Thursday

This evening's liturgy at St. John's at Creighton was beautiful. From the moment the entire congregation joined in the heartfelt singing of "Holy God We Praise Thy Name" and the scent of incense began to permeate the air until the final, solemn moments when the altar was stripped, I felt not only a close attachment to everyone gathered in faith in that sacred space, but also a communion with Christians throughout the world who join in prayer and remembrance of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ in these Holy Days of the Triduum. I also felt intense hunger since Mass began at 7:30 and lasted an hour and forty-five minutes, making it fifteen hours between meals today. 

One of the unique aspects of the Holy Thursday liturgy is the "washing of the feet," a symbolic recollection of the thirteenth chapter of John's Gospel and Jesus' action of humbling himself to cleanse the feet of his friends. I have always found this to be a powerful story and its subsequent inclusion in the Holy Thursday Mass is poignant and moving. Father Roc O'Connor was the presider this evening and he offered an inspiring and thought-provoking homily. As he plumbed the relationship between Jesus and Peter in this Gospel story, he paid special note to Peter's response to Jesus' desire to wash his feet. He suggested that Peter's refusal was out of a fear of being challenged to be someone and do something that he did not want. I had often considered Peter's noncompliance as the result of the dynamics of a master/servant relationship (which it, in part, may have been), but I had never thought of it as fear. 

This notion hit home with me and my experience throughout this Lent. I am as aware as ever of the choices I make in life that are based in the fear of needing to change. The fear of living more simply and what that means I will need to let go of. The fear of being more available to people and how that will cut into "me time" and what I deem important. The fear of people who are different than me and how seeing others as images of Christ necessarily shakes my world up a bit. The fear of not having all the answers and taking the risk to being vulnerable, open and honest with others. In some ways I have made small strides in some of these areas this Lent. In other ways I am only begin to realize these fears exist.

I am deeply moved by the way that St. John's includes the washing of feet within the liturgy. Many parishes choose twelve people ahead of time to represent the apostles in a sort of reenactment. But at St. John's everyone is invited to get up and go to one of several stations throughout the church and to have her or his feet washed and, in turn, wash the feet of another. I intended to participate in this before we even went to Mass. What I had not anticipated was that Aidan would also want to participate. Here is a small way that I have been changed this Lent . . . when he leaned over and said that he'd like to have his feet washed, instead of telling him, "No, it's only for adults," I told him, "Sure." I was proud that he wanted to be a part of things and I do not ever want to discourage anything that can serve as a positive faith experience and reminder for him down the road. 

Washing my seven year old son's feet was something I cannot find the words for right now. It struck me that being a parent is, in many ways, a life of service. It was my way of telling him, "there is nothing I won't do for you." I have no illusions that he understood it that way, but it became a sort of recommitment on my behalf to what it means for me to be a father and husband.

In retrospect, I have one regret . . . because he was a little nervous, I let Aidan bow out of having to wash my feet. Perhaps it was for the best or perhaps, like Peter, I was afraid and not yet ready to be open to the challenges that such an action would present. In this simple choice is all the evidence I need to show me how far I have yet to grow.

Day 43: Six Week Update

It is hard to believe it has been six weeks.  Where did the time go?  Here's my final weekly offering of miscellaneous ramblings:

• Omaha as "inter-faith capital of the world?"  From beyond the world of Lenten Ramadan comes this wonderful column from this past Sunday's Omaha World Herald. The "Tri-Faith Initiative" is an Omaha partnership between Temple Israel, The Episcopal Diocese of Nebraska and The American Institute of Islamic Studies and Culture. The current vision of the group is to create an "inter-faith campus" that would include Jewish, Muslim and Christian houses of worship as well as shared space for conferences, workshops and ongoing education and dialog. David Liepert, a Canadian Muslim author and radio host, is quoted as saying that he thinks this venture may be the first of its kind in the world. Hope for peace and understanding springs forth from the fertile soil of America's heartland! 

• And the award for dumbest decision goes to . . .  Looking back on Lenten Ramadan I have to say that the most foolish (and dangerous!) decision I made was to observe the fast while skiing in Colorado. You may recall my experience from Days Three and Four. Skiing pretty hard on Day Three without eating anything and without drinking water was ill-advised and downright dumb. I am certain that Friday night I was suffering from either dehydration or altitude sickness or a combination of both. Only after returning to Omaha and doing some further research did I discover that one is not expected to fast while traveling during Ramadan. Oops. Hindsight is 20/20 I suppose and I should have looked into this prior to the trip. In my defense it was the third and fourth days of Lent and I was very excited and energized for Lenten Ramadan. If we had gone skiing in Week Three I doubt this would have happened.  C'est la vie.

• Things I am most looking forward to in a post-Lent world.  Yesterday several students asked me what I was looking forward to most about Lent being over. There are so many things! The first thing I am looking forward to is the joyful celebration of Easter Sunday. We will be at my in-laws where there is always an abundant spread of food at holidays. Usually I try to hold back and take it easy, not wanting any particular holiday go too much to my waistband, but this year . . . no holds barred! I promise the family that I will try my best to share. In particular, I look forward to the Polish sausage from Frank Stoysich Meats, where I have been procuring this Easter tradition for the past ten years. I always associate good, quality, homemade Polish sausage with Easter ever since my childhood in Indiana (all apologies to my vegetarian friends). A second thing I am looking forward to is sleeping in on the weekends. I am not a huge "late sleeper," but on a Saturday I do enjoy staying in bed until 7:30 or 8:00. During Lenten Ramadan I have had to rise earlier and earlier on the weekends so I can make sure I eat before sunrise. I will welcome this change with open arms and closed eyelids. A third area of anticipation is in being able to eat meals with everyone else. The food will be fresh and hot and I won't feel so voyeuristic watching (and hearing!) other people eat. I'll feel like part of the family again. I am very interested to see how this effects how I eat throughout the day. I foresee less snacking and much more self-control in my eating habits. We shall see. At any rate, as wonderful as this entire experience has been, I am ready to return to "normal."

• Triduum plans.  I always look forward to the celebration of the Triduum, but since the birth of our kids I have not attended the services as often as I would like. This year I am certainly making it a point to fully experience these beautiful liturgies in all their symbolic glory. The evening of Holy Thursday will find us at a soup supper with the Ignatian Associates followed by the Mass of the Lord's Supper at St. John's at Creighton. Mass is at 7:30 and so dinner for me tomorrow night will be pushed back a bit. On Good Friday I will be at the "Walk for Justice" in downtown Omaha. It is a traditional Stations of the Cross which also focuses our prayer for those in our world who suffer crucifixions daily due to the injustices perpetuated by our social structures. If you are in the Omaha area, I encourage you to attend. Bring your walking shoes! I may or may not attend Good Friday services at our parish in the afternoon. It all depends on the timing. Holy Saturday we will be at my in-laws in central Nebraska. I have not attended the Easter Vigil in several years and am eager to be at the Mass celebrated by one of my very best friends who is a priest in Kearney, Nebraska. The Vigil will certainly pose one last challenge. It starts before sunset at 8:00pm and typically runs in the ballpark of one and a half to two hours. Afterwards, we plan on celebrating the Resurrection with libations and the world's best onion rings at "The Cellar." I just might have an entire basket all to myself!  

• One last weigh-in.  A final step on the scale today indicated that I had not lost any additional weight in the past week. My total weight loss for the six weeks of Lent has been ten pounds. I am glad the weight started coming off more slowly toward the end, but I am not sure why as I really did not feel like a changed much in my eating habits this past week from what I had done earlier in Lent. Perhaps my body has just become accustomed to the fasting. At any rate, it is a slimmer me now than on March 9. I am eager to begin some exercise too. I generally avoided strenuous exercise during Lent out of fear of the dehydration I experienced in Colorado. But now I think I am motivated to get up and get moving.

• Shukran.  Or "thank you" in Arabic. Thank you to everyone who has asked a question, said a prayer, posted a comment, passed Lenten Ramadan on to a friend, "liked" a post on facebook or just stumbled upon the blog through a Google search of "ramadan lent pants" (I kid you not). Thank you as well for your openness to seeing Christianity and Islam in what may perhaps be a different light than you are accustomed to. Today has seen the highest traffic yet on the blog and there have been nearly 1400 pageviews since Ash Wednesday. Maybe together we can change the attitudes of fear and suspicion that so often permeate discussions of religion in our world. 

Day 42: Tuesday of Holy Week

Brrrrrrr.  Tonight was the first baseball game in the new TD Ameritrade Park in Omaha, the new home of the College World Series.  I was fortunate to receive two free tickets from the sister of a friend and decided to take Aidan to see Creighton play Nebraska.  I have been to countless baseball games in my life, but this was undoubtedly the coldest game of them all.  It was 40 degrees at the first pitch and certainly did not get any warmer thereafter. But I enjoyed every minute of it. I am truly blessed to have a wonderful family with whom I enjoy spending so much of my time.

I know I have spoken a great deal these past six weeks about gratitude.  I have learned an appreciation for the little things in my life that I often take for granted: the availability of food and water, a job I love, great friends and family, two awesome kids. I am also tremendously grateful for my wonderful wife Brandi who has been a tremendous source of support for me throughout this Lent.

There are many things about Brandi for which I am grateful. She is a fantastic nurturer for our kids. She is a great "teammate" and companion in parenting, financial decisions, our dreams for the future and living our shared values. She is a dedicated advocate for children whose home lives are less than ideal and whose opportunities for success in life are few. She shares the "travel bug" with me. She is a woman who manages to remain positive and hopeful despite a recent string of family tragedies that would sap the energy from any other ordinary human being. The list could go on and on.  But one thing I have really come to appreciate about her this Lent is that she lets me be me.

I know my Lenten discipline has been a real trial for her.  I sense that it has been frustrating for her that we all have not been able to eat meals together thanks to my fasting.  I imagine she is probably so tired of hearing me talk about this Lenten Ramadan thing that she is about ready to scream.  I know for a fact that the time I spend blogging in the evening has often stifled conversations and gotten me to bed later than usual.  I recall more than one time when she encouraged me to reconsider the fasting because she didn't want me to feel left out of special occasions or family gatherings.

But she never complained about it.

And that is what I am most grateful for from Brandi in the here and now. She let me follow through with this hair-brained idea unimpeded. She never called me crazy or rolled her eyes or questioned my motives. She sensed that, for whatever reason, this was something I felt very strongly about and she let me be. Heck, I think she may have actually been happy that I found something to get so excited about in life. It has been a real gift to have that freedom and that support. Without it this Lent would not have been the tremendous experience that it has become.

I love her very much and she is my best friend and my greatest confidante. She is a blessing from God without whom I would feel lost and lonely in this world. I look forward to having her by my side for the rest of my life.

I love you Brandi.  Thank you for everything.

Day 41: Monday of Holy Week

Throughout my Lenten Ramadan I have been blessed to have so many friends and family members who have been supportive and understanding.  If people think that what I am doing is a little strange they certainly have not mentioned it to me.  I have to admit, this was one of the things I was most anxious about heading into Lent.  I was concerned that people either wouldn't care enough to try and understand, see me as some sort of religious zealot or get the impression that this was attention seeking behavior.  Instead, I have found myself participating in wonderful conversations in the classroom, at the dinner table and in social settings.  One such interaction took place this evening.  

It was our friends' turn to host dinner as they often do on Monday nights. After the meal, as the kids were playing outside, we had an enjoyable, impromptu "question and answer" about Lenten Ramadan.  The questions were excellent and may perhaps be ones you have as well. Below is a "transcript," to the best of my recollection, of some of the highlights of the conversation.  My apologies in advance to my dinner companions for anything either omitted or embellished.

Has the whole experience been more difficult or less difficult than you anticipated going in?

That's a tough question.  The entire experience of fasting in this manner is a new experience to me and is unlike anything I have ever done before.  But it has not been unmanageable or overly burdensome.  It certainly has been a tremendous challenge, but I think I prepared myself well enough for this in advance that I was braced for it.  If you go back to the very first post in my blog you will find that it was in November. There were few days between then and March 9 when I wasn't turning the idea over in my head.  

That being said, I anticipated that there would be a point where I would not be able to handle it any longer and break down.  I didn't think I would ever fully give up the venture, but I did foresee myself slipping in a moment of weakness.  Given my track record in past Lents I assumed that this would be the case.  But I can say with complete truthfulness that I have not broken any of the guidelines I originally set for in the Ground Rules. I know there are still six days to go, but I have made it this far and there is no way I am going to give in now.  After all, this is Holy Week and I am looking forward to my celebration of the Triduum to provide the fuel I need to get to Easter Sunday.

Has it gotten easier or harder as time has gone on?

If you would have asked me this question two weeks ago I would have said it was getting easier, but the past week has been especially grueling. Psychologically I think knowing that I have to wait just a little longer to eat each day than I did the day before has worn on me. You may recall that Saturday was particularly difficult. As a follow-up, I never mentioned that the Dundee Dell was packed on Saturday night and I was put on a waiting list. I felt a little weird waiting for a table for one and after fifteen minutes decided to walk to Goldberg's instead (where the Reuben is second to none). As a result I did not eat until about 8:45, making it about fourteen and half hours since breakfast. Lately I have been increasingly aware of the extreme nature of my hunger and the discomfort it causes, but I have certainly become better at managing my previously noted crabbiness. I should also say that what may be easy for one person may be extremely difficult for another and vice versa. I have a friend who has gone all of Lent without drinking a beer and she is extremely proud of that, as well she should be . . . I may be able to not eat from sunrise until sunset but don't know if I could do that!  

How has the experience of blogging been for you?

Blogging has been one of the most valuable things about this entire experience. I have always enjoyed writing but often feel like I don't have anything worth writing about. Lenten Ramadan has given me a ready-made topic on which to focus and I have, on most days, enjoyed writing about it. I generally write in the evenings and there were a couple of times when I really felt tired and definitely did not want to sit down at the computer. There were other days when I did sit down to write and had no idea what thoughts I was going to put down (today was one of those days). Knowing I needed to blog each day has kept me honest too.  I don't know if I could have pulled through this Lenten Ramadan if you were not holding me accountable in this way. Thank you!

Without hesitation, however, I would say that the greatest benefit blogging has provided is that it has become my daily "Examen." In the tradition of Ignatian spirituality the Examen is a time to reflect on the events of the day (or the previous day). The Examen allows one to be open to seeing where God was either found or missed that day.  It helps one to note the day's joys and pains, successes and failures and in doing so, to recognize gratitude for God's constant attentiveness to one's being. Writing has helped me sift though my thoughts and experiences in search of that sliver of meaning to be found in each day. While I cannot foresee myself continuing to blog, I do see the value in the practice of journaling and I hope to be able to maintain that practice at least on a personal and private level.

Are there things that you choose not to blog about?  

While I have tried to be as honest and forthright as possible in each of my blog entries, there are certainly things I choose not to share. With the exception of this entry (!) I have also made efforts to be succinct, knowing there is no way to possibly share an entire day's experience . . . I wouldn't have the time to write it and you wouldn't have the time to read it. I have made every effort to protect the identity of family and friends, only using names after I have received permission. I have also intentionally not included photographs of friends or loved ones.  Life is a mystery and I believe that leaving some things to the imagination is a good thing.

It seems like this entire experience may be a significant "marking" for you.  Do you think years from now you will look back on the Lent of 2011 as an important time in your life?

Absolutely!  In fact, I would go so far as to say that this may be one of the most significant spiritual experiences of my entire life.  There are times when I have been brought to tears either in my prayer or in my attempts to explain what Lenten Ramadan has meant to me.  It has been profound beyond explanation and I have been comparing it lately to being on an intense forty day retreat.  In that regard, I almost do not want Lent to end . . . I want to continue what God has begun in me and I pray that I will always vividly remember the many lessons I have learned these past forty-one days.

As Lent draws to a close, perhaps you have a question or two about my Lenten Ramadan journey.  Feel free to post any questions you have in the "comment" section below and I promise to respond with greater brevity than can be found in today's post.

Day 40: Palm Sunday

Image from pts.edu

"The crowds preceding him and those following

kept crying out and saying:

'Hosanna to the Son of David;

blessed is the he who comes in the name of the Lord;

hosanna in the highest.'” Mt. 21:9

Today the great drama begins.  Holy Week is upon us and, even though Lent is drawing to a close, the fullness of these past forty days is only now beginning to come into focus.  And that is a hard thing for me to say. These past forty days have given me a focus I have rarely experienced in my life, but I believe that each of these days has been drawing me to what may be a deep and personal encounter with Jesus Christ this week as we Christians commemorate his suffering, death and resurrection.

The first words of the opening prayer for today's liturgy contained the line, "these past five weeks."  Upon hearing this phrase this morning I began to break into tears. These past five weeks have been a tremendous gift.  A remarkable journey.  A forty day retreat built within the context of my daily life.  My tears were tears of gratitude.  I have been truly blessed to receive so many graces this Lent.  If only for a small time, my eyes have been opened and my heart has been softened to the love and compassion of God.  To say that it has changed me would perhaps be an overstatement, for only time itself will tell the true story of what my Lenten Ramadan has revealed.  But I sense that this has been an important step for me in internalizing a faith that has always been important to me but which has not always been lived authentically and with life.

As I have begun this week I am seeing the story of Christ's passion through new lenses.  In the past, Lent has always meant austerity, suffering, a reflection on my sinfulness.  But this Lent has been very much different.  This may sound ironic since I have never lived a Lent in more austere fashion.  But there has been something about my fasting that has been liberating, hopeful, joyous.  Despite my hunger and my quasi-asceticism I have found a fullness that is most difficult to explain, but perhaps can be boiled down to this . . .  

I am living for the resurrection.

Each of these past forty days my eyes have been focused inward and outward. Inward to the hunger that is present through most of the day, yet outward to the face of Christ in family, friends, students, colleagues and strangers.  Inward in self-reflection as I have come to know myself in a more honest and intimate way, yet outward to Muslims and Jews, believers and non-believers as I have sought to understand the lives and faiths and doubts of others.  Inward to the present moment, yet outward in anticipation of the week we are now beginning.  Inward to the small sufferings I have encountered, yet outward to the resurrection.  

As Christians we have this tendency to be people of the cross and not people of the empty tomb.  Our primary symbol is one of suffering and agony.  We dwell on our sinfulness and our unworthiness. "To thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears."  Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.  But many times we get stuck there.  Many times, in dwelling on our own sinfulness, we cannot see beyond ourselves and into the suffering of others.  Many times we see this world as a punishment instead of a gift.  Many times we bow our heads in shame instead of gazing into the eyes of the One who loves us and calls us into a relationship and not to cower in fear.

Please do not misunderstand me.  I believe that sin is real.  I know that suffering is real (I watch the news and I have a pulse).  I believe that Jesus' own death was very real.  But Jesus did not die to receive our sympathy.  Jesus did not die to put on a show.  Jesus did not die to somehow be the answer to some sort of convoluted cosmic calculus equation, the x answer of which equals salvation.  Jesus' death is a death that shows us how to live.  If this were not the case, then Lent would end with Good Friday and not on Easter Sunday.  This story is a story of hope, not catastrophe.

But who knows.  My mind and heart may change this week.  If I have learned anything these past five weeks it is that a life of faith is a life of fits and starts, new revelations in unusual places and expectations just aching to be disappointed.  But if I have learned anything else these past five weeks it has also been to rejoice in God's presence now and to hope in the promise of the future.

And so Holy Week begins.  May we all not only journey to the cross and to the grave with Jesus this week, but more importantly, to the light of new life and the unanticipated possibilities of his resurrection.