Wednesday of Holy Week seems one of the days orphaned from its ritual parents. Swung soundlessly between the arms of Palm Sunday and Maundy Thursday it feels unmarked in my community. I understand the text of anointing with spikenard is often associated with this day in the liturgy and the negotiations of Judas Iscariot with the Sanhedrin. So, following my earlier post of the I offer again these words to breathe as Christ breathes, and to touch the worlds joys and betrayals.
Sorrowing and Creating One,
You know
There has been so much taking
Of life
Of trust
Of sparkle
Of hands touching
Of dignity.
There has been so much injury
Of body
Of words
Of love
Of home
Of hope.
There have been so many images
Fast and slow
Vivid and grainy
Repetitious
and static
and terrible
And so much closing
Of minds
Of hearts
Of borders
Of doors
Of eyes.
So, we are here
For You
still
Holy
in the midst of us
We touch
in a heart beat
as we are touched.
We breathe
healing we are graced to grace with
we receive
and carry
gently as a warm egg
into these days.
