Dear St. Luke’s,

One of the things I love about how we do Church is our weird way of telling stories. You may have heard about the liturgical seasons, with the different themes, colors and whatnot. Call it what you will, but plainly, this is story telling. Every year, we tell the story of our salvation from Genesis 1 all the way through the birth of the Church at Pentecost and beyond. Every Sunday has a special name, with readings assigned that tell a little bit more of the story. If you get more into it, you can see that nearly every day has a saint assigned to it, along with scripture that exemplifies the Saint’s ministry. If you follow this calendar every year, you will learn about the history of the Church, and those who rose to the occasion in service of God and their neighbor. If you want to really get into it, there is a whole other system of reading scripture that is built around praying four times a day every day. I did this online during the height of the pandemic, and I loved it more than I thought I would.

All of these ways of telling the story of our salvation are culminating in this coming week. This coming Sunday we will all yell, “crucify him!” as we live into the passion. Thursday we will strip the altar bare and it will remain vacant until Easter. Friday, we live into the emptiness and absence, and on Saturday, as the sun sets, we will celebrate the wonder of the empty tomb. We’ll do it again on Sunday morning, but with eggs.

Our story is coming to an apex of drama and revelation where everything will change. After that first Easter, we perceived the world and the story we tell through a completely different lens, and every year I am always surprised to find myself profoundly uninspired as we approach this Holy Week. But this is why I love how we tell stories.

Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, the Great Vigil and Easter Sunday are all going to get here whether or not I am ready for them, and I will ultimately have to be in Church and ask myself “what does this part of the story mean to me even if I am in the midst of hazy ennui?” In an odd way, I think that is a better way of hearing and telling our story. No one is ever ready or in the mood for the sadness of Good Friday or the profound joy of Easter. Do not be surprised if it feels mundane when you encounter God, because we have fooled ourselves into believing in the mundane, when in truth, every day has meaning and is sacred in its own right. Time is never mundane. There is always the next part of the story to tell, or a saint to remember, and there is always the opportunity to meet God, especially when we are not in the mood.

Join us whenever you can this week and hear the next part of the story.

Blessings,

Nick