If you’re feeling a little spiritually disoriented this week, don’t worry. As if watching the fall of the USA in real time, trying to digest the magnitude of the still-not-entirely-released Epstein files, and attempting to push against the growing cloud of despair over our heads [it’s not just me, right?] wasn’t enough; the celestial scheduling department just decided to hit “select all” on the “major religious observances” calendar.

It’s a lot.

This week, 24 hour doom/news cycle aside, the planet is also experiencing a massive theological pile-up at the intersection of human longing and planetary alignment.

And honestly?

It’s landing on us at a time when just existing in America feels like an extreme sport.

We are tired.

We are polarized.

We’re doom-scrolling through headlines and suffering through an unusually cold and snowy winter that make us want to crawl under the covers and not come out until May of 2037.

The vibe right now is heavy, fearful, and deeply divided.

And yet, right in the middle of this mess, the calendar has decide to throw a party, a funeral, a new beginning, and a fast at us….. simultaneously.

As a Unitarian Universalist, I often joke that our theology is a “choose your own adventure” book, but this week, the universe is choosing for us.

It’s sort of forcing us to look at the gorgeous, messy kaleidoscope of human tradition all at once. If we squint past the specific dogmas of each particular event, we might just start to see that these disparate paths are actually converging at the same desperate, beautiful crossroads of….you guessed it….love. It really does end up at the center of everything… *insert winky face here*

Let’s look at the schedule. If I’m being honest, as a theatre person, it feels a lot like a packed-too-full tech week…..which is actually what’s on my real-life calendar in the midst of my day job, my ministry responsibilities, and all this spiritual stuff too!!

So we kicked off the week with Mardi Gras.

Tuesday was the pressure valve releasing.

Mardi Gras is that one day where we acknowledge our very human need to embrace joy, excess, and the sheer ridiculousness of being alive before the bill comes due. We eat the King Cake, we catch the beads, we embrace the chaos.

Then, midnight struck. The glitter turned to ash.

Welcome to Lent, kicked off by Ash Wednesday.

Talk about a vibe shift.

We go from “laissez les bons temps rouler” to “remember you are dust.”

It’s the spiritual hangover.

But in a culture obsessed with endless growth and winning, there is something profoundly necessary about a season that says, “Hey, you’re mortal. You’re flawed. Maybe stop buying stuff for forty days and sit with the fact that you’re not going to be here forever.”

Meanwhile, across the globe and in many of our own neighborhoods, the Lunar New Year is roaring in. It’s the Year of the Horse. This isn’t just about getting lucky red envelopes; it’s about sweeping out the accumulated bad juju of the past year to make space for good fortune. Given the state of the world, I think we all need to grab a broom and sweep as hard as we can.

And finally, as if that wasn’t enough, the holy month of Ramadan begins.

Millions of our Muslim neighbors are entering a period of intense devotion, community, and fasting from dawn to sunset. It is a radical, physical act of empathy—choosing hunger to better understand those who have no choice in the matter, and centering charity as a pillar of existence.

So, here we are.

We are feasting, we are fasting.

We are celebrating new life, we are contemplating our death.

We are loud, we are silent.

It would be easy, in our current American context of suspicion and silos, to look at these competing holidays as just more noise.

More ways we are different.

But from a UU perspective, this convergence is a gift. It’s a reminder that beneath the different costumes, creeds, and culinary requirements, humanity is asking the exact same questions.

How do we find joy when things are hard? (Mardi Gras)

How do we face our limitations and failures? (Lent)

How do we start over when we’ve messed things up? (Lunar New Year)

How do we care for the vulnerable and discipline our own greed? (Ramadan)

This week, joy, sacrifice, and compassion are meeting at the crossroads, and it’s a buffet of spiritual lessons.

We need the feasting because life is hard and deserves celebration.

We need the fasting because we have too much while others have too little.

We need the ashes to humble us.

We need the fiery horses to embolden us.

In a time of division, these traditions are echoing the same essential call —

Wake up.

Reflect.

Renew.

And for the love of all that is literally holy, take care of each other.

So, whether you have soot on your forehead, a red envelope in your pocket, an empty stomach waiting for sunset, or just a mild case of spiritual indigestion from watching it all happen—know that you are part of a massive, messy, shared human endeavor trying to make sense of this life.

So eat the weird Central PA Mardi Gras donuts.

Sweep the floor.

Share your wealth.

Remember you are dust.

And try to be kind.

It’s going to be a busy month.