Guess what? This was my third time through the whole Holy Week drama with Humble Walk. And I have to say...perhaps it was my favorite. Not because it was bigger and better. Not because we have somehow improved. It's actually much simpler than that. I realized I was slipping into a rather life-sucking place as a pastor. A place where I want to control everything. A place where I forget I'm not God. It begins innocently enough. It starts with a wild love for the events from Palm to Vigil at Humble Walk. Oh, the week is intense and beautiful. (Come next year.) It transforms people. It transforms our entire community. I love it so much that I internally start freaking out about wanting every person I know to be there. Which, you know, is impossible. And then I start worrying that no one will come. (To be fair, this is a real possibility at Humble Walk). Somewhere between everyone and no one--the joy of leading, the prayerful attentiveness to individuals gets drowned out by my need to control outcomes. As if it's me who gathers the community. As if it depends on me. It's a bit embarrassing when you lay it out like that. Who would even need God in this equation?
So, I asked a small group of clergy friends to pray for me. To pray that I might be able to let all that go and just allow the Holy Spirit to gather and do the work. Every time I felt myself heading down that freaky deaky control hallway, I turned around and reoriented myself. Because honestly, it's a small miracle that anyone is Humble Walk at all. I mean that. For cryin' out loud, we don't even have a trumpet player for those Easter hymns!
As you might suspect, Jesus rode into Jerusalem and landed smack dab in the middle of our Holy Week. I'm not kidding. Then things quickly spun out of control. Some teenagers helped set up for the Maundy Thursday dinner party--then went off on their bikes to round up more friends. There among the disc golfers toking up in their cars and the broken beer bottles and Fuck Cops graffiti--people walked the prayer stations of Good Friday at Highland Park. Easter Vigil was the noisiest, on the verge of chaos, joyful event of the year.