Holy Week in general means a lot to me.
Remembering those final days of Jesus' life
How He washed His disciples' feet
and broke bread with them
The betrayal,
The denial,
That final nail to His feet,
The seven last words He spoke before releasing his whole Self
The darkness and despair that was felt in the air.
The confusion that soon morphed into rejoicing
The sunrise
The farewell and assurance of His Presence always
The promise of His return.
During Holy Week at my church, We start on Palm Sunday, where all the youth proceed into the sanctuary waving palm branches and singing, commemorating Jesus coming into Jerusalem...I will be singing "Hosanna" this year as they do it
On Maudy Thursday, we commemorate the Last Supper, by having communion, service, and the washing of each other's feet. On Good Friday, we remember His Crucifixion, by nailing all of all sins onto a huge Cross, which are then taken down and burned to nothing in front of all. We leave in silence.
On Easter Sunday, we come to service outside about 30-45 minutes before sunrise. We enter in silence. The Silence is broken, when we pray and sing praises of His Resurrection. We again break bread, and hear the Scripture of the Good News, and afterwords, have breakfast together.