Blessed Holy Trauma Week
Where the spying
on our friends
Come out to haunt
our Wednesdays
We feel the reality
That not all of our relationships
are safe
Where the Table
when we eat together
might feel haunted
by those who are missing
the ones who have died
Or the ones we are not speaking to
(hopefully for just now, Lord hear our prayer)
The echoes of lonesome pandemic times…
We remember that Jesus ate with Judas
and are comforted (How do you do that God?)
And the washing of the feet feels too much
But right
And some people are wedding
Bibles to constitutions
And we remember that Jesus said
That he would temple down
And that what he did was
rip the curtain that was separating the
so called “holy” people from the people
into smithreens (Holy Spirit flip these tables)
Blessed Holy Trauma Week
when your Youth Group Leader
Dies of Breast cancer that she has been battling
Basically since the day you met her
She counseled, supported
Got you the hall for your wedding
Sponsored your call to ministry…
Blessed Holy Trauma Week
When Friday is supposed to be Good
But your car is in the shop
and you can’t get to worship
to cry at the cross
And you think about how trauma lives in your bones
Is not Jesus our very Sibling, who died in the cross?
Do we not say we die with him? How then do we not feel it?
And so you weep instead for the children in Gaza
Gaza–where the word gauze, the cloth for healing was made
And no hospital has any medicine for infection
And children are dying from malnutrition
Blessed Holy Trauma Week
where you have permission to be fully human
weak
pathetic
Empathetic
Sympathetic
To melt on the floor and weep
Because we are all only human
And Jesus Christ knows it
Crying utterly alone on the Cross
Does everything always happen on Holy Week?
All the ministry colleagues ask?
Yes
my soul answers
Blessed Holy Trauma Week
Where we are blessed to be fully human
Fully aware
and to breathe in and breathe out
in-between
katyandtheword 