When I first arrived at my church as the pastor 9 months ago, the office I was to inhabit was completely empty except for four things: two phonebooks, a broken space heater, and a crown of thorns. When I began to worry about this unpleasant welcoming gift and its intended recipient, someone told me not to worry. "It's for Holy Week," they told me. I dismissed it. If having that same conversation today, I would respond: No Shit.

In case you were unaware (or are Unitarian or live on another continent), last week was "Holy Week," or the week of the Christian calendar leading up to Easter Sunday. Now if you're not a regular participant in a church, you might not be aware that Holy Week is full of various opportunities to observe the journey of Jesus from his entry into Jerusalem to his death on the cross. It begins on Palm Sunday and proceeds through Holy Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday (yes these are real things!) onto Maundy Thursday (I've already forgotten about what Maundy means....I have to look it up every year), Good Friday (a silly name if you ask me) and Holy Saturday. This pattern is meant to provide various entry points into the story of Jesus' ministry and his passion (read: suffering) and should, if done right, be a transformational and deeply spiritually enriching experience.

That is, unless you're a pastor. If you're a pastor, then you are on a different journey which could legitimately be renamed "Death Week" (Jesus' or my own, I'm not sure) or "Let's go to church every day Week" or "Work your pastor like an oxen Week." Now, this is a bit of an exaggeration, but not totally. In fact, I've realized that my spiritual expectations of this most sacred schedule should be adjusted from a following in Jesus' footsteps to participation in his enduring suffering. Just kidding....actually not really. In was a whirlwind of various and crazy tasks, and having survived it, I almost can't believe it actually happened.

To give you a sense of what I'm talking about, here are a number of the tasks which I found myself doing last week:

Sunday: Arrived at church 2 hours earlier than normal to prepare for worship and then bundle up with 7 layers of outerwear in order to lead the Palm Sunday parade down Main Street in the 20 degree weather. Negotiated with several disgruntled donkey handlers and befuddled police officers the delayed start time of the parade. Distributed 3 million palm branches to participants and baffled onlookers (though somehow we ended up with 5 millon palm branches left over, and a giant crucifix someone had anonymously donated for the occasion. Didn't have time to let them know we wouldn't be crucifying anyone until Friday.) Proceeded down Main Street accompanied by song and off-beat drumming. Rubbed hands together to rewarm them such that I might regain finger dexterity and be able to break off carrot pieces for children to feed to the donkey. Considered feeding children to the donkey. Decided against it. Had church.

Monday: Caught up on work for my other job. Responded to three thousand emails. Tried to feel generally holy. Gave up lenten discipline of avoiding cheese and justified it by telling myself that actually, I mean theologically, lent was over on Palm Sunday. Felt guilty. Ate more cheese to make up for it. Created Easter Bulletin.

Tuesday: Met with Co-Pastor to plan three Holy Week services, having fumbled our two other (reasonably earlier) attempts to meet for this purpose. Labeled it "Being Led by the Spirit," and not "Obscene Procrastination." Attended our church's yoga class. Tried to feel even more holy. Held a "holy week" bible study about Jesus' suffering and crucifixion. Ended up mostly discussing the politics of the Roman occupation of Israel. Got home at 10 p.m. Ate too much leftover Indian take-out including that spinach dish with Indian Cheese. Considered feeling guilty. Considered barfing. Did neither.

Wednesday: Presided over communion at a holy week service at my seminary. Had one dozen people tell me my clerical collar "actually looks legitimate." Was confused as to what this meant as it is legitimate. Thought fleetingly about writing my Easter sermon. Then stopped. Labeled it "I'm still being led by the Spirit." Went to hand drumming class convinced that a djembe beat underneath "Come Thou Font of Every Blessing" will save our church. Came home at 10. Ate more Indian Food. Drank two glasses of wine.

Thursday: Ran around most of the day gathering supplies for Maundy Thursday service including soup, towels, bubble bath, plastic spoons. Forgot the towels at home. Moved 1200 chairs around in the church. Cooked soup. Ripped bread apart after not being able to locate a knife as they have all been stolen from the church. Attended Maundy Thursday tenebrae service at neighboring church. Was reminded why I don't go to that church. Washed people's feet. With the bubble bath. Got my dry clean only pants soaking wet. Felt very holy. Went to sleep.

Friday: Awoke. Read the psalms to get in holy mode. Sat down to write my sermon. Felt led by the spirit to surf the internet instead, and eat lunch, and take a nap and profread the Easter bulletin. Pressed husband (who had been released early from work) into service of the Good Friday worship service. Drove to church. Set up, which mostly involved lighting 28,000 candles and thinking about justice. Was annoyed that it got dark during the Good Friday service such that no one could see the bulletin. Winged it. Thought about death. Sung "Were you there when they crucified my Lord?" Went home. Discovered we were out of Indian take-out. Considered going back to school to become a dental assistant.

Saturday: Told self and husband "No seriously, I am going to write my sermon all day today. This is the most important day of the year....and it's going to be really holy." Immediately convinced self and husband that I would work on it later while we went on a quick shopping trip to Costco, Target, Bed Bath and Beyond, Petsmart, Home Depot, Verizon Wireless and Whole Foods. Wasn't quick. Returned home to dye eggs for the egg hunt. Boiled and cooled them before realizing they were brown. Damn it. Dyed them anyway, which produced a muted, poop-like marbled effect. Considered crying. Ate more cheese. Hoped the spirit would lead me to a great idea for my sermon. Didn't happen. Began to panic. Lamented the obscene procrastination and my own complicit denial. Recovered. Wrote my mediocre Plan B sermon idea up in time to leave for Holy Saturday Vigil. Helped locate matches for lighting the BBQ grill which would serve as our "bonfire" for the Christ light. Briefly considered how ghetto our church can be. Moved on. Proclaimed the resurrection. Put out lillies. Went home. Hoped Jesus would be resurrected.

Sunday: Arrived early. Hid eggs. Responded to tantrum of the child who didn't find the last egg. Had church. Delivered mediocre sermon. Husband confirmed its non-greatness. Considered crying. Decided against it. Helped host the church's ham lunch while considering the irony of eating pig to commemorate the death and resurrection of a devout Jew. Did dishes. Compelled husband into service doing most dishes. Wondered why it was my job to do dishes. Wondered why I got into this line of work. Remembered. Went home. Took a nap. Gathered for dinner with other ministers and their spouses. Party ended by 8. Went to bed.

And that, my friends, is holy-ness is a nut-shell! See you again next year!