But that is not my life. Today is a day of many meetings. It's not a crucifixion. But it's not the life of the mind that I envisioned when I went to grad school.
I've thought about Holy Week, and wondered how we can hear the familiar stories with fresh ears. How can we move closer to this story that's so distant from us in time and place?
Do the palms obscure the real Jesus?
What feet are waiting to be washed?
What table waits to be set for a meal made new with meaning?
The soldier looks impassively at the Passion. How are we colluding with our empire?
So many wounds to bind.
How can we celebrate Easter with the taste of ashes still in our mouths?
How can we balance our creative yearnings with our spiritual yearnings with our worldly duties and joys?