Holy Week

Culture

Apr 21

Written By Jacob Amaro • 18 • Paterson, NJ

St John’s Cathedral stands tall in the middle of the city of Paterson, NJ and serves as a beacon of hope for many people. As a kid, St. John’s Cathedral was my parish, as my parents were part of the Latino Choir. It was there that I magically learne… — St John’s Cathedral stands tall in the middle of the city of Paterson, NJ and serves as a beacon of hope for many people. As a kid, St. John’s Cathedral was my parish, as my parents were part of the Latino Choir. It was there that I magically learned to read Spanish, and acquired an intense love for music and singing.

For Catholics around the world, these past few days were part of Holy Week — a week in the Liturgical Calendar dedicated to the suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus. It is typically the week I most anticipate each year because I am given the opportunity to disconnect from the noise around me and focus instead on solemn moments with my community at Church. On Holy Thursday there is the washing of the feet where we ask each other for forgiveness. Holy Friday is the day we recognize the beauty of our suffering with the adoration of the Cross. Easter is the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. We rejoice in Jesus’ victory over death and His power to resurrect us from the dark moments of our lives.

On the morning of the Easter Vigil, my dad sings one of my favorite songs from Church. Entitled, “Amo al Señor” or “I love God,” the song talks about the story of a person who loves God because of His goodness to him. I always think about how good God has been to me when I listen to this song, and I am often brought to tears.

*My dad washes the foot of my brother, Emmanuel.*

*Emmanuel stares at the Cross and, like the rest of us, kisses it. His innocent imitation was moving — I loved this moment.*

*Matthew, Rebecca and Emmanuel are inseparable. Seeing them happy makes me happy. I would do anything for them.*

When lent began — and things were normal — I was excited about this year’s Holy Week. I thought I knew the way everything would unfold because it always unfolds the same way, but the coronavirus changed everything. I found out two weeks before the start of Holy Week, for instance, that I would be celebrating it at home with my family. Truth be told, I was a bit disappointed.

As much as I love my family, I felt that the solemn moments would be soiled by my younger siblings who are not yet able to sit still for more than two minutes at a time. In my mind, I had determined that nothing would be the same and that I wouldn’t “live” Holy Week the way I always do. In the end, I was right. There were moments during the rituals when my family broke into laughter, paused to tend to the younger ones, or did something we were not necessarily supposed to. What I wasn’t right about — what I did not foresee — was how those moments of deviation from the “standard” would make me feel something new and utterly beautiful, something “different.” During Holy Thursday, Good Friday and the Easter Vigil, I felt utterly at peace with myself and my family. I captured those moments as well as ones where I played with “light and dark.”

Update: On Easter Sunday, my grandparents who were diagnosed with coronavirus two weeks ago, told me that they are doing better.