March 26th, 2024
The Monday of Holy Week, I imagine much of Jerusalem was still humming with excitement— those who were bent on destroying Jesus, finalizing their underhanded arrangements , or the throngs of people who had cheered at the news of a Messiah, laying their palms in the road as He passed. The excitement probably lingered into that next day.
But what about Tuesday? Most would have gone about their business preparing for the Passover. By now the frenzied shouts of Hosanna! had died down, the palms ceremoniously laid out were likely trampled underfoot, forgotten in the dust. The Tuesday of Holy Week feels unusually quiet— the joy filled exclamations that roused Palm Sunday have calmed and our Lord won’t be betrayed for another few evenings—but the entirety of our salvation hinges upon the events to come later this very same week. Indeed, before another week begins, our Savior transforms the bread and wine into his body and blood, is betrayed, tortured, humiliated and led to an agonizing death. And then… the joy of His glorious Resurrection. I’ve always found the Tuesday of Holy Week to be a bit tense- perhaps a bit too quiet. The Tuesday of Holy Week is a day I attempt to make particularly, intentionally quiet, to prepare myself, and my soul, for the week ahead. In my prayer I’ve found myself moving ahead into the beauty and pain of the Triduum, instead of settling myself in the quiet of Tuesday. I think of those who spent Palm Sunday shouting in exaltation, many of whom would find themselves in an angry mob, demanding Christ’s execution later the same week. How many times have I been this way? How many of us have spent a week moving in and out of emotional extremes, unaware of passing through the calm of what seemed to be an average Tuesday.
I believe the Tuesday of Holy Week feels a bit too quiet because the world has lied to us. The world has sent us on a frantic race to produce more, do more, accomplish more to prove ourselves, when we’re already worthy. We were created worthy. Because we are so loved and so worthy, we were each redeemed by His death and glorious resurrection. We were loved beyond comprehension before any of us ever dreamed of accomplishing a single thing. We were loved, and deeply known, in the solitude of that Tuesday. Perhaps we can dedicate a bit of our Tuesday to sitting with this in prayer.
Tuesday of Holy Week will again be a time in which I reflect on the joy of Palm Sunday, and look ahead with sorrow upon the passion of Good Friday. I pray you may enter into the same during some needed quiet, before we all embrace the sorrow of Holy Week and the abundant joy of Easter.
Hilary Beall is a wife, mother, award winning fine artist and educator. She holds a Masters in Early Childhood Education and a Bachelors in Studio Art. She taught PreK for years, then embraced life as a stay at home mother. She has been surprised to find herself again following the call to glorify the Lord through her art, and recently has been even more surprised to be entering again into education, teaching studio art in a classical Catholic high school.