Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I shall fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
Our small, solemn band falls in behind the young boy who carries the processional candle, almost as tall as he is, with serious poise. We are quiet, we are prayerful. And as we walk along the tiled aisles, contemplating sacred scenes that have been prescribed for centuries, we become something more. We began scatted amongst the pews, too small a group for this large and formal space. But was we move along the path of this ancient story, as different voices pick up the narrative and join in supplication, we coalesce into one common prayer. We lean into each other, and in doing so find strength and comfort as our yearnings and hearts are magnified.
Even as we rehearse the way of loss and despair and death, we have also set our feet on the path of redemption. We have purposefully stepped into the holy mystery that encompasses all that is malevolent and unbearable in the world and speaks the final word of love.
The service ends in silence, and we quietly disperse. And I carry into the night the assurance that whatever lies ahead, I am not alone.