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 Jesus’ anointing with spikenard is often associated with this day in the liturgy and the negotiations of Judas Iscariot with the Sanhedrin.  You will have your own recognitions and disillusionments, your own loves and betrayals, your own encounter with Holy Presence in the midst of it.

Sorrowing and Creating One,
You know

there has been so much taking
of life,
of trust,
of sparkle,
of touch,
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 it,
gently as a warm egg,
into these days.