On the night Jesus washed his disciples’ feet. It’s a quiet, messy moment of love—hands in the dust, water splashing, no one pretending to have it all together. What if holiness looks more like that?

Maybe our ‘hosannas’ aren’t neat but messy. Maybe there isn’t perfect palm branches, but wrinkled, bent ones. And maybe that’s what worship looks like. Maybe that’s enough.

When did society shift to evaluating the existence of a person, based on what they “contribute”? And when did society adopt the mindset that suffering is not valuable to the human condition? How did the Canadian way of life become a real-life version of Squid Games?