The old, old story

I love Holy Week. All of it, from babies waddling down the church aisle with palm branches bigger than they are, to the bleakness of Good Friday, to the joy of Easter. I love the fact that there are extra church services. I love taking time to debate the christological implications of Jesus Christ Superstar with friends. I'm just nerdy that way.

I think the reason I like Holy Week so much is partly the story it tells, but only partly. This is the high point of the Christian year, and there's a lot of important stuff going on, stuff without which we might not have our faith tradition as we know it. There's a reason the evangelists spend a disproportionate amount of time on the Passion compared to the rest of Jesus' life. This is the climax of the story.

But I like Holy Week not just because of what the story is. I like it because I think this week, we do an especially good job telling it. That depends, of course, on people listening and participating. But for those who don't just go from Palm Sunday to Easter, who stick around for Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, it's like we really get a chance to go through these last days with Jesus. We get to experience the highs and lows, the joy and the sorrow and the doubt and the unfortunate fickleness that come along with following Jesus. Those extra church services all have a purpose, they all do something different.

It's the story that makes us who we are, as a c0mmunity across the world and ages. The whole story, from the first day of Advent to Christ the King (or insert your own more inclusive appellation) Sunday. But during the liturgical drama of this week it's easier to remember it's a story, and that reminds us who we are. And it reminds us that we're still part of a story, one that keeps unfolding.