That at the Last Supper, and through his time in Gethsemane, Jesus was surrounded by human frailty. He loves us in spite of our frailty, he died in spite of our frailty. Or because of it. Or for it. "We should love like that," the minister said. "But how do we love when we are broken?"
That taking communion on the night we remember the Last Supper is just FULL of poignance. The events that came after became so vivid, that Jesus moved from Passover to Gethsemane to betrayal. It made it riveting.
Watching the church being essentially readied for mourning was incredibly moving.
During the vigil, every ten or fifteen minutes there was another reading. People were free to leave at any time, but people left during the reading where Jesus asks his disciples why they can't just stay awake with him for one hour. That made an unexpected impression.
Every year I tend to go straight from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, from the entry to Jerusalem to the resurrection. It feels right, better even, to give every moment leading to the resurrection its proper weight, rather than rushing to the end. It's all in the layers, and I keep missing it. Plus, it seems to matter more this year.