It is strange
being a pastor
during Holy Week.
Even as you’re urging
your people
to wait, to stay
in the hard days,
in the quiet pain of it,
it’s your job to look ahead,
dream ahead,
write ahead:
To Easter
and its far off sun,
crafting words that
will banish
the shadows.
But Holy Week
with its somber,
slow unraveling,
keeps its hooks in us too.
The path we travel
in these weighty days
(perhaps even always)
calls us to keep our
spirits split
and our feet
in two different
countries,
called Hope
and called Grief.
Somehow both
citizen and stranger
to each.
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A lovely little piece, and so true. For us, This is truly a time of split spirit.
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