“And those ahead and behind cried out, ‘Save us. Save us. Blessed is the One coming in the name of the Holy One'” (Mark 11:9).
Son of David, is it okay if I’m not feeling it this year? Here at the outset of Holy Week, I’m just too tired and too stressed to think about what this day, what these days mean. And, I’m wondering, if you and I will be okay if I celebrate this day by looking forward to the chocolate that will come with next Sunday morning.
As you know, this Lent has been a season where I’ve been so busy, my mind so full of deadlines and my schedule so full of meetings…well, I gave up even trying to be attentive to the reflection and devotion I wanted to give to you. It became a choice between honoring these days and honoring what I need.
Yet, I still come to these sacred days feeling guilty. Why couldn’t I devote myself to honoring the memory of your Passion? Why couldn’t I find the comfort and rest I’ve needed in reading Scripture instead of familiar books? Is my relationship with you not as deep as I believed?
So, I ask you, on this day, for the same thing the crowds did: Save me. Save me, please. Save me from this idea that my spiritual needs aren’t tied to my physical needs. Save me from this idea that I can exist as someone without skin, ignoring the anxiety that’s making my heart beat fast, the depression that’s slowing my thoughts, and the fear that I’m going to fail. Save me from trying to be a spiritual creature whose neck never gets stiff, eyes never grow heavy, and head never aches.
Save me, from trying to be anything other than fully human. Because, I think, it’s only in this body—one that sometimes struggles to sleep—that I’ll find you. It’s only in this body that is too tired to speak with you for more than a minute, that I can love you and be loved by you. It’s only in my skin that I can even begin to think about the you that rode in on a donkey and were carried out to a tomb.
I ask this because I know you love me. Because you know who I am.
And I love you.