HOLY WEEK
(March 29- April 5, 2026)
Holy Week begins with Palm Sunday, celebrating the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. On Holy Wednesday we will have a service of prayer, music, and contemplation. Then the Triduum begins on Thursday.
What Is The Triduum? The Triduum ("three days" in Latin) is one service over three days: Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil. It is a profound journey compressed into three days that is at the heart of the Christian liturgical year. It’s a time that strips away the noise of everyday life and pulls you into the raw, transformative mystery of Christ’s passion, death, and resurrection. Intentionally taking the time to reflect on it feels like standing at the edge of something vast, where words strain to capture the weight.
Holy Thursday hits with a quiet intensity. The washing of feet, and the institution of the Eucharist. It is all about service and sacrifice. I’m struck by how Jesus, knowing what’s coming, chooses to kneel and wash his disciples’ feet. It’s a radical act of humility, a call to love in the face of betrayal. The Eucharist, too, feels like a gift that keeps unfolding: God giving God’s self, not just then but now, every time we celebrate the Eucharist. Yet, there is a shadow over it, because Judas leaves and the garden awaits. It is a reminder that love doesn’t flinch from suffering.
Good Friday is stark, and heavy. The cross looms large, and there’s no sugarcoating it. Jesus’ agony, his cry of abandonment, pierces through any romanticized notions of redemption. Reflecting on it forces me to confront my own complicity, my sins, and my indifferences that all add to that weight. But there is also this paradox: the cross is both a scandal and a triumph. The cross is where despair meets hope, where God’s love refuses to be extinguished. Sitting with that tension, I feel both broken and strangely held.
The Easter Vigil is like a deep exhale after holding your breath. It is a journey that begins in a swirl of darkness, the first flames of fire, and the Exsultet (the Easter proclamation, which will be sung by Deacon Donna). It is a shift from mourning to joy that feels almost disorienting. The readings trace salvation’s arc, from creation to resurrection, and it is as if time collapses, pulling us into God’s story. The empty tomb isn’t just an event; it’s a promise that death does not get the last word. I am left with this sense of awe, but also a challenge: to live as if the resurrection matters, to carry that light into a world that often feels shadowed.
The Triduum does not let you stay comfortable. It’s a pilgrimage that demands you walk through betrayal, suffering, and loss to reach hope. Each year it reshapes me a little by exposing my weaknesses, while also deepening my trust in a God who enters the mess and makes it holy. It is not just a remembrance; it is an invitation to die and rise, again and again.
Before we journey through these three days together, you are invited to soak in the holy space of contemplation Wednesday evening. There will be time for silence, music, and prayer. A holy space for us to be able to shake off the busyness of our lives, so that we can be fully present as we Gather, Watch, and Kindle the light of Christ.
