Holy Week is the final week before Pascha (Easter), when we walk with Christ through His suffering, death, and burial. It starts with Palm Sunday and ends Holy Saturday night when we celebrate the Resurrection.
This isn’t just remembering something that happened long ago. We’re not spectators watching a historical drama. The Church brings us into these events so we can experience them ourselves. When we stand in church on Holy Thursday night listening to the Twelve Gospels, we’re in the garden with the disciples. When we venerate the Epitaphios on Friday evening, we’re at the tomb with the myrrh-bearing women.
The Week Unfolds
The intensity builds each day. Palm Sunday starts with joy, we process with palms, singing “Hosanna,” celebrating Christ’s entry into Jerusalem. But that evening the tone shifts. We begin Bridegroom Matins, and suddenly we’re hearing the parable of the ten virgins. “Behold, the Bridegroom comes at midnight.” The hymns are haunting. The church is dim.
Monday and Tuesday evenings continue with Bridegroom services. Tuesday night we sing the Hymn of Kassiani, one of the most beautiful pieces of Byzantine hymnody, about the sinful woman who anointed Christ’s feet. If you’ve never heard it, you should. It’ll break your heart.
Wednesday we remember Judas’ betrayal. Some parishes serve Pre-Sanctified Liturgy in the mornings during the first part of the week, but by Wednesday afternoon things get quiet. Everyone’s preparing for what’s coming.
Holy Thursday morning we celebrate the Liturgy of St. Basil, commemorating the Last Supper and the institution of the Eucharist. Some parishes include the washing of feet, reenacting what Christ did for His disciples. That evening comes the service of the Twelve Gospels, formally called Matins of Holy Passion. We stand and listen to twelve Gospel readings that take us through Christ’s betrayal, trial, crucifixion, and burial. It’s long. Your feet will hurt. But there’s something about standing there in the semi-darkness, hearing these words year after year, that gets inside you.
Great and Holy Friday is the hardest day. Royal Hours in the morning. Vespers of the Taking Down in the afternoon, when we remove Christ from the Cross. Then Friday evening we gather for the Lamentations at the Epitaphios. The priest carries the cloth icon of Christ’s body in procession while we sing funeral hymns. Women and children often bring flowers. It feels like an actual funeral because in a real sense it is.
Holy Saturday morning brings the Vesperal Liturgy, which starts somber but begins to shift. We’re still at the tomb, but there’s anticipation building. The readings hint at what’s coming. By the time we leave Saturday morning, we’re holding our breath.
Then Saturday night, really Sunday at midnight, everything explodes into light and joy. But that’s Pascha, which deserves its own article.
How We’re Meant to Live This Week
You can’t really understand Holy Week by reading about it. You have to be there. The Church asks us to attend as many services as we can. Yes, that’s hard if you’re working twelve-hour shifts at the refinery or you’ve got kids in three different schools. Do what you can. Even if you can only make Thursday evening and Friday evening, come to those.
We keep strict fast all week. No meat, no dairy, no fish, no oil, no wine. Some people eat only bread and water on Friday. The fasting isn’t punishment, it’s to help us focus, to make us a little hungry and uncomfortable so we remember what this week is about.
This isn’t the week to schedule other things. I know your cousin’s having a crawfish boil Saturday afternoon and your daughter’s got a soccer tournament. But Holy Week comes once a year. The Church is asking us to set aside our normal lives and enter into Christ’s Passion. That’s a big ask. It’s supposed to be.
If you’re an inquirer or catechumen, you might find Holy Week overwhelming. That’s normal. You don’t have to understand everything the first time through. Just show up and let it wash over you. Fr. Alexander Schmemann wrote that Holy Week is when the Church “becomes what she is”, the Body of Christ, suffering with her Head. You’ll feel that even if you don’t follow every word of every service.
One practical note: most parishes ask people to make their confessions before Holy Week starts, not during it. The priest is busy with services, and you don’t want to be trying to schedule confession between the Twelve Gospels and the Epitaphios. Talk to your priest ahead of time.
Why It Matters
Western Christians (Catholics and Protestants) observe Holy Week too, but it’s different. They have fewer services, and the ones they have are shorter. There’s nothing wrong with that, they’re doing what their traditions teach. But Orthodox Holy Week is immersive in a way that’s hard to explain. We’re not just commemorating the Passion. We’re entering into it, liturgically and mystically.
Some people find it too much. All these services, all this standing, all these hours in church when you could be home resting up for Pascha. But here’s the thing: you can’t appreciate the Resurrection if you haven’t been to the tomb. You can’t shout “Christ is Risen!” with full joy if you haven’t first stood in the darkness of Friday night and felt the weight of His death.
Holy Week is the center of the Christian year. Everything in the calendar points toward it or flows from it. If you’re new to Orthodoxy and you’ve never experienced it, this year make it a priority. Clear your schedule as much as you can. Come to the services. Stand with the rest of us in the dim church and let these ancient hymns and scriptures do their work in you.
