A Word for the Way: Guiding Scripture for the Week

“Leave her alone,” Jesus replied. “It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial.”
—John 12:7

This is not the week of arrival.
This is the week of preparation.

Before the crowds swell, before the palms wave,
before the cross casts its full shadow—
there is this room.

A jar broken.
Oil spilled.
A woman kneeling.

This is the week where love lingers long enough
to name what others will not.
Where devotion does not speak loudly,
but fills the house with a fragrance that stays.

It is not yet Holy Week.
But something has shifted.
The road is turning.
The weight is pressing in.

This is not the week of miracles.
This is the week of mourning before the loss.
Of touch before the tomb.
Of scent before the suffering.

This is the week of foreboding intimacy.
Of nearness that prepares the soul.
Of tenderness that does not look away.

A Practice to Carry: The Anointing Prayer

This is not a week of performance.
This is a week of proximity.

Each day, return to the quiet.
Let your nearness be enough.

Take a drop of oil, balm, or water.
Touch your hands, your forehead, or your heart—
not as ritual, but as reverence.
As devotion that does not need to be seen.

Let your body remember what Mary knew:
Love prepares.
Love stays.
Love anoints even when no one else understands.

Inhale: “Let me love what costs.”
Exhale: “Let me stay with what aches.”

This is your prayer of presence.
Your way of saying:
I will not rush ahead. I will not look away.
I will stay in the room where love is poured out.

Let this be your offering.
Let it linger.
Let it ready you.

A Shared Practice: Fragrance That Remains

On Saturday night, the night before Palm Sunday,
light a candle in a quiet space.
Place a bowl of warm water nearby.
If you have essential oil, drop some in.

Let the scent rise. Let the room grow still.

Write down one thing you are releasing,
and one thing you are preparing your heart to carry into Holy Week.
Read them aloud if you can.

Then simply whisper:
“I will not rush ahead. I will stay with this moment.”

Let the candle burn slowly.
Let the scent linger.
Let the stillness hold you.

You are not alone.

The Invitation of This Week

This is not the week of spectacle.
This is the week of reverence.
Of kneeling low.
Of staying near.

Let this week invite you to:

  • Honor the quiet courage of Mary’s anointing

  • Let love linger longer than you’re used to

  • Hold space for grief that comes before the loss

  • Prepare your spirit for what must be surrendered

  • Trust that nearness is still holy—especially before the storm

This is the week of the fragrance.
Let it rise.
Let it speak.
Let it prepare you for what is coming.

You do not need to fix or flee.
You only need to stay.

You are welcome to journey through this course on its own—or deepen the experience with The Way of the Cross, The Way Home, a beautifully crafted Holy Week devotional that weaves scripture, poetry, imagery, and somatic reflection into a sacred, embodied path.
Add the book to your practice as a companion guide from Palm Sunday to Easter, inviting breath, presence, and renewal along the way.

Week Six: Before the Cross, A Fragrance That Lingers

Palm Sunday: Dominica in Palmis (The Sunday of the Palms)

Also known as: Dominica Palmarum or Dominica in Palmis de Passione Domini
Translation: “The Sunday of Palms in the Passion of the Lord”

This day holds both procession and pause—
Joy and sorrow braided together.
It is the beginning of Holy Week,
but it carries the tension of all that will follow.

The people shout Hosanna!
But it is not long before the crowd turns.
A king arrives—not on a stallion, but on a donkey.
Not with weapons, but with weeping in his heart.

A Word for the Way

“Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
—John 12:13

The crowd gathers. The cloaks fall. The branches wave.
And still—Jesus does not smile like a man receiving praise.
He carries the weight of what is coming.

Palm Sunday is not a day of simplicity.
It is a day of holy contradiction.
Of praise on the lips of those who will soon cry “Crucify.”
Of celebration that opens into betrayal.
Of Love choosing to ride forward anyway.