Finding God in Every Face: Serving Holy Week in Dublin, Ireland

There are some weeks that stay with you long after they end—Holy Week at Newman University Church in Dublin was one of them.

Newman University Church is, in itself, a sacred work of art. It was built and founded by St. John Henry Newman, who originally envisioned it as a chapel for University College Dublin. Though those plans shifted, today it stands as a place of worship for young professionals in the heart of Dublin city centre—a quiet spiritual home tucked into the rhythm of urban life, just off St. Stephen’s Green.

Though small in size, the church holds a powerful sense of peace the moment you step inside and make your way through the long hallway of the atrium. One can closely feel the presence of Jesus so tangibly in the stillness and warmth of the space. The soft light from flickering candles created an atmosphere of reverence and reflection, casting gentle shadows on the ornate woodwork and stone. The tall mural paintings told their own stories of faith and sacrifice, towering over the pews and drawing your eyes upward with their color and detail. It’s a space that gently invites you to pray, to listen, and to just be.

From Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, our team poured everything we had into preparing and carrying out each sacred service. The days were long—sometimes stretching over 10 hours— yet filled with meaning every step of the way. Whether we were setting up for Stations of the Cross, preparing the church for Good Friday, or welcoming joyful faces into the pews for Easter Sunday, every detail mattered.

To add to the art ambiance, the liturgical music was nothing short of astounding. The choir, Vocare, filled the church with four-part harmony so rich and reverent it felt like the vocals were reaching straight into heaven. Their voices carried through the vaulted ceilings, singing songs of praise to God that moved hearts and drew us deeper into worship. On Good Friday, Vocare’s singing reflected the solemn sorrow of the Passion—soft, haunting, and still. Yet, come Easter Sunday, its triumphant harmonies burst forth like the rolled-away stone, proclaiming Christ’s victory over death with joy so real, it was impossible not to feel it in your soul.

One of the most humbling parts of the week for me was serving as both an altar server and Eucharistic Minister during weekday and Holy Week Masses. It’s hard to describe how powerful it is to place the Body of Christ into someone’s hands—to meet their eyes and see the faith, the need, the gratitude there. People came forward with open hearts, each carrying their own stories and crosses to bear. In that moment of communion, I was reminded that we, no matter our backgrounds or differences, are all His children. Christ’s love is for everyone—boundless, unconditional, and deeply personal.

Throughout the week, we journeyed through the most sacred moments of our faith—witnessing the washing of the feet on Holy Thursday, bore the stations of the cross as we reflected on the burdens Jesus went through on his way to his own death, kneeling in silence on Good Friday as we remembered Christ’s death, and sitting in darkness during the Easter Vigil, as we waited for the first glimmer of resurrection light. Then finally, Easter Sunday arrived, and with it came lilies, bells, golden vestments, sunlight pouring through the church, and the joy of knowing that Christ conquered death, and He is risen!

All the symbols of Easter—the white and gold drapings, the blooming flowers, the flickering Paschal candle—stood in stark and beautiful contrast to the stripped altar of Good Friday. They served as radiant reminders that death never has the final word. That love always wins. That Christ lives.

Yes, it was exhausting. Yes, there were moments I thought I’d collapse from the long hours and the constant movement. But in every face that entered that church, I saw God. In every note sung, in every candle lit, in every act of service—I drew closer to Christ.

Serving Holy Week in Dublin didn’t just pass me by. It transformed me. And I will carry it with me always.