Holy Week, and High School Too

When two people live together as spouses or partners, they converge in certain ways and at certain times. Over the past couple of years, the line on this graph — how much actual time spent in the same domicile — went way, way up. When it comes to managing their respective occupations, however, unless they happen to work together, they may often feel that they’re moving along side-by-side, but separately, like a pair of railroad tracks.

Not completely like railroad tracks, of course — since one train requires both lines to move forward, to stay on course. But you get the idea. And besides, isn’t that a lovely picture? It reminds me that it’s been way too long since I’ve boarded a train, seen the landscape whiz by, gazed deep into forests and imagined the creatures living there.

Barbara Knew

Years ago, whenever I would describe to my mother any kind of upcoming jumble of events in my young adult life — say, getting grades in at the end of the term, planning practices for a team, and trying to keep a social life going– she’d tilt her head (with that formerly red hair, turned naturally more blond than grey), lean forward a little bit and say with her cheerful Canadian lilt, “Well, it’s all a matter of scheduling.” She didn’t have an outside-the-home career, but raising five children definitely gave her a sense of a whole lot going on at once.

You too probably have certain sentences still echoing in your ears — something your mother or father used to say, something that you wryly acknowledge, maybe years after they’ve gone, was damn true. Little did my mother know, back then, that I would become attached, through marriage, to a way of life in which the schedule of services is a particularly dominating factor.

Ever since I’ve been married to a clergyman, I’ve experienced Holy Week through the way he progresses through it, with the characteristic mix of dutifulness, creativity, and intense participation in the liturgy. I’d say he’s way more than involved; he’s living it, through all of his being – also leading many others to do the same. This is powerful stuff.

I can’t say that I do anything comparable, at this or any other time of year. Maybe, and this is a constant question I have, I’m missing out on a degree of depth that I might try harder to attain.

Let the Kids Learn

But my profession as a high school teacher, or (this is now) program coordinator, does provide me with many rich moments that crackle with connections made, opportunities launched, realizations clarified. This very week, in fact, will see the culmination of my effort to organize a special event for the school.

Needless to say, over the past couple of years, COVID has prevented this kind of thing, so the prospect of bringing “outside” adults and teenagers together in one gym is truly exciting. You won’t be surprised to learn that most employers I asked — especially the manufacturing companies in our Lakes Region, with many positions to fill — jumped at the chance to bring their H.R. people to cultivate some youthful interest. Our set-up won’t be as sophisticated as this, but I’m hoping that the communication will be about as lively.

My job has been officially part-time, but I bet I don’t need to tell you that, to pull off any kind of successful event like this, you need to do whatever needs doing, seeing to many details. The key thing is to anticipate as best you can which factors are most likely to make those couple of hours productive for everyone involved.

The Spiritual Can Also Be Physical

Meanwhile, of course, all over Christendom that day will also be “Maundy Thursday.” The relaxing of COVID restrictions will, I presume, allow clergy around the globe to do what they are accustomed to doing on that evening: wash feet.

Here’s Jesus himself, following the Last Supper with his disciples, demonstrating to them what service is all about. “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” (John 13:34).

I think there’s a good chance that on Thursday evening, after the Career Fair is all put away, I’ll very much enjoy at least soaking my feet, while I eagerly absorb any droplets of tales my husband might offer — maybe something to do with the church service, or maybe something else entirely. My own account of how the teenagers moved through those tables, how much gumption they showed in approaching the smiling adults, or whether there were clumps of sweatshirted individuals who kept their distance, will need to be effectively conveyed so as to draw in my most important listener.

At times when we succeed in bringing each of our experiences to the other person, not entirely but pretty darn adequately, perhaps the two of us become like a strand of DNA, with those amazing lines and curves in a single miraculous strand, more than a set of railroad tracks.

What do you think?