When I was growing up there was a lot of business surrounding Easter. There were horns to be found, rehearsals to be had, and lots of services. Easter meant a new dress and flowers at church. It meant that the church would be crowded with people we wouldn't see for the rest of the year. It wasn't about the sacrifice of Christ or the joy of his ressurection.
Maybe it's that I'm joining the church this year, but Holy week has been very different to me. The Holy Thursday service literally brought me to tears several times. The incense and the beauty, the removal of the Host, shrouded at the end of the service, it all had so much meaning now. The night that Jesus would have been taken from his disciples after celebrating their last supper, it was real to me.
Then of course, I noticed our alter server in big, clunky, dirty tennis shoes and messy hair. The thought crossed my mind that I would never let my child serve God in dirty shoes without combing his hair. It was eerily reminiscent of my mother, but Dominic made me feel all better by telling me he noticed too.