This afternoon, I'm sitting quietly, in a deserted church, preparing for Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and the journey through Easter weekend. On Thursday, we'll gather around a table to wash one another's feet, even as the shadows lengthen, deepen and darken. What kind of faith is this, kneeling in such vulnerability as missiles fly and swords sharpen? Our friend Roger Bowers will play Debussy's "Syrinx" that night, as we share the simple supper of a simple servant. Youth will come from Tiburon, joining Peacemakers in an evening of daring practice and mindfulness. Holy Week. Come, Lord Jesus.