Ever since I realized I was a Christian and not a JW, I buy simple red wine and make a few small flats of unleaven wheat bread.
I watch for the moon rise outside, not in a house.
Even when I used to go to the KH Memorials where they spoiled it all, I would think of Jesus who surely loved living.
Jesus who walked and drank and made wooden things in an occupied land. Who took in the right stuff from his Father and shared it with others and reckoned the price to pay, I would love him for it.
My world without Jesus would have been dismal. My world without his teaching would have blighted my children's lives.
One year while I was waiting for the moonrise in a deep hollow in the woods and it seemed like the trees were hanging on to it, it took so long to rise so I could see it.
I had a longer time to wonder at that man's love that would suffer a hard death for the lumps sleeping in the garden near him.
The remembrance of Jesus on that day, even if it were shared , would need to be quiet --at least for me.
I'll do the same this year.