Blessed Holy Week

The glass piece above hangs in a window in my living room. It was made by two friends who just celebrated their one year anniversary. When the afternoon sun comes in through this window I think about that service of blessing for these two men. As the colors spill across the floor and furniture of the living room I still feel the warmth of the Spirit which was so present in their commitment to each other. It was a holy moment; full to the brim with all the joy, peace and love that God's Spirit brings. 

Our Holy Week here in the mountains has been weather filled so far! The colors of the glass are longing for some sun to revive them. Last night the wind roared around us as I walked Bella in my heavy winter coat. The trees were frantic in their fight against the wind reminding me that sometimes "holy" is harsh and wild. The silent colors in the stained glass remind me that something dark is coming. This is a "holy" week - the drama of my faith awaits me. The Triduum, (the Great Three Days) begins tomorrow and we will feast, then sorrow and wait until we can once more celebrate the Resurrection. 

Br. Geoffrey Tristram, SSJE was the writer for the daily meditation from The Society of St. John the Evangelist on Monday. He quoted the spiritual writer Ida Goerres saying that 

"...coming to Holy Week is like approaching a great waterfall with an empty cup in your hand that you long to fill up with water. If you put the cup right into the middle it will likely be dashed away. It is better to aim for one small part of the waterfall, perhaps on the edge, one particular trickle of water, and full up your cup there."

It's true. It is like entering the stained glass piece that hangs in my window. Sometimes I am captivated by one color, or the design or the bevels on the clear glass. The light from the piece is never the same because the sun is always at a slightly different angle on our journey around it. My spiritual journey is hardly the same from year to year as I allow the passion story to penetrate my soul. So I am touched in ways that are new each time. Where will my cup of water come from this year? And yours also....what will fill your cup?