I very rarely talk religion here. I was brought up Catholic, and while I am more agnostic than someone with faith, this is the first Easter that I won't celebrate with my family and community. Christmas is simple, candy-sweet joy; Easter is a complex, bittersweet journey

The Triduum (as Catholics celebrate it) takes us from a Passover meal celebrated with friends, betrayal, a sham trial, torture, a humiliating slow death, and the uncertainty and stillness of the tomb. Resurrection comes only at the end of that journey

Last night the church altar would have been stripped bare. All the things that make it holy would have been removed. The tabernacle doors would be open, the tabernacle itself empty. Today the church would be an empty shell, a body without life

Today is a day where I consider my complicity: the injustices that I turn my face from, the exploitation that I take part in however unknowingly, the things I try not to think about because it makes my heart hurt too much. I think of all who are made vulnerable & shouldn't be

It is a day of hurt, of being forced to confront all the things you would rather not think about. It is a day of fasting and reflection and stillness. It is a day of feeling unsettled and anxious and uncomfortable

Tomorrow will be a day of uncertainty, the hush and intake of breath before a choir bursts into song. On Saturday during the day the church is cleaned, flowers arranged, candlesticks and thuribles polished, choirs and altar servers practice

On Saturday night the vigil is kept: it is fire and oil and water, a church lit only by candlelight, the bright ring of bells. It is elemental and ancient, the song of another year echoed around the world, the hope for new life flaring bright and clean