The tradition, in the small rural church I served was for the Catholic, Lutheran and United Methodist churches to take turns hosting an ecumenical Good Friday service. One year we decided to do something entirely different. Instead of our usual service we would reenact Holy Week, walking through the streets of our town, pausing along the way to hear the stories of that last week on streets corners and green space as we traveled between the churches.

Palm Sunday began on the steps of the Catholic Church with disciples waving Palm Branches as Jesus entered Jerusalem. There were shouts of “Hosanna” and “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.” Walking through the streets we paused, reflected and prayed. At the Community Center we stopped to reenact The Last Supper with Jesus and his disciples. Two blocks further, the high steps of the church I served, became the Mount of Olives, where Jesus prayed, and was arrested. Across the street we entered the Lutheran church. A trial was ready to begin. There we heard the sound of nails being pounded into the cross.

What remains in my memory are the three hundred people who gathered  that Good Friday afternoon. Parents with small children in a wagon, pulled them through the streets. I remember a sense of reverence in our walking, and as we crowded into the Community Center.

Among us was a spirit of unity in those gathered, recognizing that what we held in common, was so much more than our differences.  For we had journeyed  to  worship  the Christ.  The one who had brought us together.

“If then our common life in Christ yields anything to stir the heart, any consolation of love, any participation in the Spirit, any warmth of affection or compassion, fill up my cup of happiness by thinking and feeling alike, with the same love for one another and a common attitude of mind.” Phillipians 2:1-2