Palm Sunday

This afternoon, Hugo and I attended the Palm Sunday service at the Advocate, the Episcopal church we attend. (I don't "belong" to the Advocate, but it's the place where I "camp out" spiritually as a Mormon exile.) The service began outside with a procession, everyone clustered around the cross waving palm branches as the crucifer made a circuit through the parking lot. Later there was a semi-dramatic reading of the passion story, from Gethsemane to the burial and sealing of the tomb.

And with that, Holy Week has begun. On Maundy Thursday, we'll go to a supper that commemorates the Last Supper, with washing of feet; I'm helping provide music for that service. Early Friday afternoon, the Advocate will do a bilingual Way of the Cross through our little town, for which Hugo and I prepared the Spanish translation. On Friday evening, I'll drop in for a while on a "wake," where people sit near an icon of Jesus wrapped in his burial shroud and "remember" him. Late Saturday night, we'll attend the Easter vigil, which commemorates the moment of Christ's coming forth from the tomb. And then on the morning of Easter Sunday, we'll drive down to attend an Easter service with friends in Charlotte, about three hours away, and spend part of the day with them.

Holy Week and Advent/Christmas are the center of my Christian observance, at least on a yearly scope. (On a weekly scope, the center of my Christian observance is the sacrament, which I bless and administer for myself at home.) The services I participate in this week are very important liturgical means for marking my Christian discipleship. They're disciplines: I do them because I consider them an obligation that comes with affirming a Christian identity. They're acts of worship, of devotion, of remembrance, centered on Jesus Christ, his suffering, death, and resurrection.

May Christ lift you up,
and may his sufferings and death,
and the showing of his body to our ancestors,
and his mercy and long-suffering,
and the hope of his glory and of eternal life,
rest in your mind forever.
(Moroni 9:25)

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Heavenly Father—

I was about to pray that I would have a "meaningful experience" during my Holy Week observances this week.
But on second thought, I think the Spirit's prompting me to realize that having a meaningful experience isn't really the point.
I do this as a discipline, a commitment, something that needs to be done, entirely independent of whether doing it gives me certain satisfying feelings or insights.

So I'll pray simply for this:
That you will consecrate this performance for the welfare of my soul.
That the devotion I offer you this week will be acceptable to you.
That I can be with Christ in his suffering this week, whatever that means exactly.
I'm guessing it will turn out to have a lot to do with my being with a group of other individuals who are gathered in Christ's name.
If you're calling me to be with Christ in that sense—in the sense of encountering Christ in other people and their needs—help me to recognize him when I see him and to know what, if anything, you want me to do for him.

I'm here, Father.
I'm here, Jesus.
I guess that's what this prayer boils down to. Just that.
I'm here.

In Christ's name, amen.