Yesterday was Palm Sunday which marks the start of Holy Week for the Catholic church. I'm not quite sure what it is about Holy Week, but it always seems to lights my inner fire of religious spiritualism. I think it may have something to do with the many stories of Holy Week which follow Jesus on the last week of his life.I relish the annual Saturday night before Easter Sunday airing of "The Ten Commandments" and I find myself attending the masses of the Easter Triduum, which begins with Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Sunday. I may not go to mass all year, but you can almost bet I will be in attendance during Holy Week. I yearn to be part of the tradition.
I love a good story, and as a story teller myself, I find these stories to be inspiring. The reason I tell you this today is because I read a story this morning, written by a wonderful story teller, that touched me. It was short story, but it's length made it none-the-less important.
"Eric was 87 the day we met, and the story he shared remains a sacred trust, which is exactly what he hoped it would be."
"Tonight would have been his favorite night of the year, the beginning of Passover, commemorating the Israelites’ exodus from bondage under Pharaoh."
"When it was time to go, Eric reached for this writer’s hand and said, “You don’t know what it means to someone like me to tell my story to someone like you, because now I know that when I’m gone there’ll be one more person who heard it from an eyewitness.”
As I said, it's a short story, so if you have a moment go here and read it and Eric's story will have been told to one more person.
In honor of the story tellers everywhere.
