Holy Week - Faith by the Soles of my Feet

This year for Holy Week I discovered what it means to put our feet where your faith is.

It started with the triumphant entry on Palm Sunday. I went with Pastor Jerome to an outreach church in Pal-ew. Getting there requires over an hour long ride on a jubble jubble followed by a 45 minute long hike.
That's one aspect of Palm Sunday that I had never considered. Sure there's the triumphant entry - the Hosannas and celebration - but what about being hot and thirsty and tired from travelling - and not in a nice air conditioned car. Suddenly arriving at your destination is in of itself an accomplishment. And how much more welcome is such a greeting that Jesus received.

On Maunday Thursday I discovered a portion of how Peter felt. Tanjay church observes the tradition of feet washing. I was asked to participate. I found being able to wash the feet of the congregants to be a deeply spiritual and connecting moment. But when one member asked me to switch places - I balked. It was infinitely more difficult to be the subject of such an act. How much harder must it have been when Peter was faced with Jesus - his leader and teacher - asking to wash Peter's feet?

On Good Friday I again worshiped with the Tanjay congregation. The services of this congregation are 98% in Cuebueno. But on Good Friday, especially, it didn't matter. There with that congregation I joined in mourning and lament to the sound of the pounding in of the nails. We cried together - as one Christian family - mourning the death of Jesus, and our own place in it.

The evening of Holy Saturday found me on a beach at the foot of a cross with some youth from Sibulan Church. There with neither plan nor agenda we met and had a mini vigil. Nothing had been arranged beforehand - but there at the cross we could do little else.





Easter Sunday I was at the site of our sunrise service before dawn. This meant that I was present as people started to gather. I was there to feel the excitement and expectation in the air as people came together - and the sky began to get light. A bit later, when the sky was pink with the rising sun, I was there with the congregation to celebrate the Risen Christ with joy, exuberance, and in community.

This year - during Holy week I was blessed with the opportunity to walk the trail to warm welcome, wash the feet of followers of Jesus, mourn the sound of nails hammered into wood, watch and wait in the dark beneath the cross, and sing, dance and celebrate with true joy. This year I lived my faith by the soles of my feet.