But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things, but few things are needed—indeed only one.“
–-Luke 10:41

I went. To Opening Day. On Holy Week.

Was that wrong?

Me and my buds have been going to the Kansas City Royal’s home opener for years. This year was no exception. And it was great.

We ate barbecue in the parking lot. The weather was perfect. The seats were in the shade. And best of all?

We won! (First time since 2019)

Here it is, arguably the most somber week of the whole Christian year, and I was singing “take me out to the ballgame” with 40,000 of my closest friends.

I’m guessing many Christians would hardly blink at such a thing. Lots of Christians jump from Palm Sunday to Easter without much thought.

But, I wonder: Did I allow myself to be distracted from the “one thing” I should be needful of this week?

Did my joy at seeing Isbel and Collins hit homeruns diminish my recognition of Jesus on the cross?

Let’s flip that question around.

Would Jesus really want us to spend Holy Week in a perpetual state of mourning?

I think discipleship involves a deep look at our sinfulness, and the meaning behind Christ’s death on the cross. But this is not supposed to be a week where you release a year’s worth of stored up shame and contrition.

It’s a time to remember you carry that “one thing” with you wherever you go.

I’ll be leading the Maundy Thursday service, and commemorating the last supper. And I’ll be extinguishing candles during Good Friday’s Tenebrae service.

I certainly will take this scheduled opportunity to reflect on the depth and meaning of Christ’s loving sacrifice.

But I also take Jesus at his words when he tells his disciples, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me.” (John 14:1)

We aren’t meant to live with troubled hearts. No, we are called to believe. To believe in the depth and power of God’s love.

Ultimately, we must commit our lives to it: Love, expressed through Christ, and lived out together.

That can happen in a dimly lit sanctuary, but it can happen at the ballpark, too.

Now, if Holy Week, for you, is seven days of deep discernment and reflection, please don’t let anyone (including me) dissuade you of that.

But for me and my friends, Opening Day was just a high point during a tough week. We were living with belief in the joy to come after the darkness.

I’ll keep doing some soul searching, mining the depths of what is broken in our world and in my life. I hope you can find opportunities to do that as well. Visiting those depths makes the excitement of Easter even more powerful.

My hope for you (and me) is that our whole lives are a response to Christ’s sacrificial love, anticipating the hope that comes with the rolling away of the stone.

After all,

that’s the real Opening Day.

(And we win!)

Have a good Holy Week,

Mitch