Holy Week

4/10/2020

Today is Good Friday. It was a surreal day - another in this surreal week - and it sure didn't have the aura of holy exhaustion that Holy Week usually brings. With no liturgical responsibilities today, I had time to run errands - carefully, of course. I wore the mask given to me by a coworker, and I only went where I absolutely needed to go.

One of my stops was to pick up an online order at a home improvement store. After waiting for the non-masked employee to summon me over, I gave her my order number. She asked for a picture ID and I made a bad joke about her checking my picture ID against my eyes - all that's visible when I have the mask on. I told her it felt comical. Her response: "Well, you sound like a Kathi..." Ah...ok.

One of my stops was the grocery store. I went to the small store near our home, mask on, happy to see that they weren't overrun by people trying to buy eggs. I worked my way through my list, pleased that I found asparagus and my favorite dinner rolls for Easter dinner; amazed that people aren't hoarding ice cream. I saw a lot of people wearing masks. Everyone seemed to be keeping careful space; one lady in the Easter candy aisle waited for another person to make her selection before moving to the same area.

I finished my shopping and went to the register. The cashiers and baggers now stand behind hastily-erected plexiglass shields. Between the masks we were all wearing and the plexiglass, communication was ridiculous. I kept thinking, "Even with all the masks (and others wearing gloves), and these shields, there's so much touching of stuff. I've handled products touched by how many people? They're now handling products touched by me and how many people?"

I left through the designated exit - the door furthest from my car, of course. As I headed across the parking lot, I thought I saw some parishioners loading groceries into their car. I almost wept for joy.

Then, I realized - Nope. Not who I thought it was. These people were strangers.

I went to my car, and as I was putting the bags into my car, I began to weep. I finished loading, began my drive home, and allowed my tears to flow freely. My heart hurt - in a different way than it's been hurting all week - all Holy Week - in which I've been missing our gathering for ritual, prayer, Sacrament, and song. Today, my heart hurt because I miss my people.

The last time I saw some of them was March 15. That was the last Sunday we carefully held worship at Zion, and our attendance that day was way down (appropriately so). So, it's fully been a month since I've seen most of them.

And it's been a month in which I've been slammed with ministry of a different sort - digital ministry. Now, I've been involved in digital ministry for quite a while now. But the last month has meant learning new software, having some things fail, having many things work (hooray!), and working with a small team selected just for our current work of live-streaming worship. It has been exhausting. It has been occasionally joyous. But mostly it's been stretching every single part of me beyond where I ever thought my limits were.

Turns out, there's always room to stretch.

I drove home, weeping for the short drive. I got home and wanted to linger in my car and cry. But the reality of melting ice cream in the car got me going. I unloaded the car. I ended up sitting in the front room, watching the fading Good Friday sunlight through the trees. My heart was so very heavy.

Yes, Easter is coming. And hallelujah for that because this Holy Week is sitting differently than any other has, differently than any ever will. I am claiming moments of joy when they come. I scrubbed our front door this morning - the site of so many deliveries now, and no guests. I cleaned the whole area, made it extra pretty, and then I put out a cute bunny. Because...why not?

I'm weary. My colleagues are weary. The world is weary, it seems, too. So - find joy where you can. It might be hard to find, and that's OK, too. As Psalm 30 says: "Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning." Maybe not tomorrow morning, or even the morning after that - but joy will come some morning.

Pr. Kathi Johnson

Associate Pastor of Zion Lutheran Church in San Antonio, Founder and Curator of Digital Gathering

9 Comments

Bobbie McGarey link

4/10/2020 10:09:22 pm

This is my first Easter in 42 years where I am not in a church as i retired last September. I recall this as the marathon week of details. Tiny things. I know during this week for the different services there were things I set up that no one got but me. A certain number of candles on the cross I would lay across the communion table and another table under it. I would arrange the left over palms under the cross and drop several on the floor.. Etc.
I understand the missing people.
I do not envy the work that is being done by so many to convert to the digital broadcasting. Just the logistics are tricky. I pray for all that the miracle of the internet be given to all.
This is for certain an Easter, a Passover like no other.
.. Blessings Sisters and Brothers in these days.

Paula Archdeacon

4/11/2020 05:40:09 am

Thank you for this reflection. I retired Jan 1, and moved to an entirely new area. I am with family (a small part of it anyway!), but Holy Week has been so different from what I anticipated. I miss “my people.” I miss taking care of the gazillion details for worship. I miss reading the scripture aloud and taking it into myself in the way that only happens during this week. I feel so many unexpected emotions and it’s good to know I’m not alone. )I did know that but it’s good to have it reiterated!) Thank you for sharing.

Kathi Johnson link

4/11/2020 01:27:41 pm

Wow - what a mix of emotions, I'm sure. Blessings in this weird new normal for you!

4/11/2020 01:26:18 pm

Thank you! And blessings to you, as well.

Chris Jones

4/11/2020 05:31:52 am

Your people miss you too, Pastor Kathi. And we’re so very lucky that you ARE our Pastor. Thank you for loving us through this time and beyond.

Kathi Johnson

4/11/2020 01:28:09 pm

Thanks, Chris. Hope y'all have a Happy Easter!

Danielle Veenstra

4/11/2020 06:35:35 am

Thank you, the grocery store made me weep with its carts of Easter lilies and tulips that will NOT grace our chancel this year causing me to have allergic reactions for days to come. A thing I associate with Easter worship as much as the readings, parament changes from purple to white, the shouted alleluias. Our people are so much a part of our work, our thoughts, our prayers, the hole in our lives of not seeing them is vast, and we catch our breath over and over with sorrow and questions. Are they well? Safe? Lonely? Fed? We have been called to do holy work that is so much harder this year, prayers for all of my sisters in the pulpit, now serving in ways beyond our imaginations.

4/11/2020 01:28:58 pm

Yes - many reminders of how things usually are - it's hard to absorb. Blessings to you in this holy work.

Bogie

4/12/2020 01:28:16 am

We are indeed Blessed to have you as part of the leadership of our Church, even more so that you are willing to express emotions not all feel comfortable expressing-you make the compassion of our Lord real in this time when we need it most!

Reflect.

Holy Week

Pr. Kathi Johnson

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