Here we are, in Holy week. Our regular annual
routine of Holy Week, Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and
Easter are not happening as we annually plan.
And I think that's OK.
Tradition in church and family is so powerful and wonderful. But, too, I think that sometimes when a routine is set and becomes tradition, complacency treads in, like Carl Sandberg's Fog, on little cat feet. We know the routine. We know the ritual, the words, the songs. We know our Easter food menus and times and dates with family. And now THIS year, we've all been upended in our daily routines, and in our Christian church practices. Christians all around the world are experiencing this. We can cope. We can adapt. We can embrace scripture and our own prayers. We can sing the songs that are in our hearts.
Jews around the world will celebrate Passover this week. Theirs will be much the same as our week of celebration: Different.
Muslims, soon, will begin their month of Ramadan. Too, their holy month will certainly be upended.
And so all we people, all around the world, will adapt and cope as our religious celebrations are altered for the time being. And again, I think that's OK. What is important is our faith systems, our prayers, and our loving one another.
The term “Maundy” comes from the Latin “mandatum”; it is from the verb that means “to order” or command. After Jesus and the disciples finished the Last Supper and walked toward Gethsemane, Jesus taught them a new commandment:
“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another” (John 13:34).
Many, many years ago, I taught my young children to meditate themselves to sleep. Recently, I embraced an additional, new edit for Spring, 2020:
When our kids were little, if they said they could not sleep, I taught them my personal coping skill. We are a large family. I start at the tippy-top of the familial ladder .
So: I start with my oldest brother, his wife, their two children and their daughter-in-law. I can't just say, "God bless Jerry." I have to explain to God why I love Jerry, what I appreciate about him, what his concerns might be. And then, I move on to his wife, Stephanie. Then their kids. Then, my three other brothers, their wives, their kids, their grandkids, and each and everyone's gifts and concerns. I guarantee, one does not make it through the whole list of 48 before falling asleep. And so: the next night, I must begin where I left off, so that no one misses a turn.
I took this a step further a few weeks ago, one sleepless morning at 3:00am,("omigoodness! PANDEMIC?!!") with our tiny little (I call it a village) place out here in the middle of nowhere, Wabaunsee. I prayed for everyone I know, starting from 7 miles away, to our neighbors a football field away. (This sounds like an awful lot of people, but, really: it's rural Kansas: not that many people.) And I soon went back to bed and fast asleep.
So there are some thoughts from my vantage point, Holy Week, 2020.
And I think that's OK.
Tradition in church and family is so powerful and wonderful. But, too, I think that sometimes when a routine is set and becomes tradition, complacency treads in, like Carl Sandberg's Fog, on little cat feet. We know the routine. We know the ritual, the words, the songs. We know our Easter food menus and times and dates with family. And now THIS year, we've all been upended in our daily routines, and in our Christian church practices. Christians all around the world are experiencing this. We can cope. We can adapt. We can embrace scripture and our own prayers. We can sing the songs that are in our hearts.
Jews around the world will celebrate Passover this week. Theirs will be much the same as our week of celebration: Different.
Muslims, soon, will begin their month of Ramadan. Too, their holy month will certainly be upended.
And so all we people, all around the world, will adapt and cope as our religious celebrations are altered for the time being. And again, I think that's OK. What is important is our faith systems, our prayers, and our loving one another.
The term “Maundy” comes from the Latin “mandatum”; it is from the verb that means “to order” or command. After Jesus and the disciples finished the Last Supper and walked toward Gethsemane, Jesus taught them a new commandment:
“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another” (John 13:34).
Many, many years ago, I taught my young children to meditate themselves to sleep. Recently, I embraced an additional, new edit for Spring, 2020:
When our kids were little, if they said they could not sleep, I taught them my personal coping skill. We are a large family. I start at the tippy-top of the familial ladder .
So: I start with my oldest brother, his wife, their two children and their daughter-in-law. I can't just say, "God bless Jerry." I have to explain to God why I love Jerry, what I appreciate about him, what his concerns might be. And then, I move on to his wife, Stephanie. Then their kids. Then, my three other brothers, their wives, their kids, their grandkids, and each and everyone's gifts and concerns. I guarantee, one does not make it through the whole list of 48 before falling asleep. And so: the next night, I must begin where I left off, so that no one misses a turn.
I took this a step further a few weeks ago, one sleepless morning at 3:00am,("omigoodness! PANDEMIC?!!") with our tiny little (I call it a village) place out here in the middle of nowhere, Wabaunsee. I prayed for everyone I know, starting from 7 miles away, to our neighbors a football field away. (This sounds like an awful lot of people, but, really: it's rural Kansas: not that many people.) And I soon went back to bed and fast asleep.
So there are some thoughts from my vantage point, Holy Week, 2020.
