"Come ye daughters, share my mourning.” Entering Passion Week in a plagued world

Haven’t we been all waiting for Spring to finally arrive after these years of the plague? Only to arrive in a world haunted by new terror? How then shall we enter passion week in these plagued times?

When I was traveling the globe as a young volunteer I found something unknown to me in Taiwan as well as in the Middle East: Lamenters. At an Arabic funeral every one is mourning, loudly, expressively, especially the men. Our Taiwanese neighbors paid professional lamenters to lament for three days, loud and sorrowful, the death of a family member. This was a stark contrast to the German funerals I studied as a little girl while accompanying my father to his services in his country parishes. Stone faced expressions, especially the men. One day, as I played my flute, looking into all those earnest faces I was overcome with grief. My hands started shaking, and after barely finishing my piece I started crying inconsolably. I did not know the man who died. But I was mourning nonetheless. It was…