Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places,
Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who rode into Jerusalem at the start of Passover.
No one knew what it meant at the time.
The crowd waved their branches and loved this peculiar spectacle and the more shouting they heard the louder they shouted. Save us! Save us! As if a poor man on a donkey could do any such thing.
The Scribes scoffed at the display, knowing full well the Zechariah scripture Jesus was reenacting. What is this man trying to do anyway? Can’t these people see through this?
The Pharisees were amused and delighted. It won’t be long before he is arrested.
The Chief Priests were alarmed the crowd was so enthusiastic. Their enthusiasm won’t last long, they assured themselves.
The Roman battalion, six hundred soldiers strong, rode in from the west on their war horses and chariots at the same time Jesus was arriving from the east, and their paths would soon intersect. Rome was not worried in the least. They had the power. God save anyone who got out of line or in its way.
Jesus’ disciples from Galilee and Jerusalem followed Jesus’ instructions, spy novel-like, to set up this procession and watch it unfold, wondering what would happen next. Is this the day we’ll finally understand who Jesus really is?
I have watched this scene every year of all my life, trying to figure out Palm Sunday. When I was very young, my Sunday School class in Wooster planted bulbs in little clay pots, and I eagerly awaited week after week for my bulb to sprout. Lo and behold, on Palm Sunday morning my bulb became a beautiful purple flower.
In high school, Palm Sunday looked to me a lot like the parade down Central St. in north Evanston on the Fourth of July. In seminary it became a subject in class and later a sermon to write. At a recent Palm Sunday service on the Plaza, I gave the message and led everyone, the Cathedral, Holy Faith, and bemused tourists, in singing Cat Steven’s Peace Train. May these peace tracks would run through Gaza and Israel and Ukraine and Russia!
This year, as Jenny and I prepare for vacation/study leave April 10-June 13 in Australia, the Camino in Spain, then Germany (thank you again, congregation!), we think of the carbon footprint we will leave with our plane travel and invite you to offset this, if you are willing, with your own choices on how we might better and more sustainably live each day. We are trying now, and will continue when we get back, but hope these two months might teach us all how to better care for creation. To me, this is a Palm Sunday practice.
So, as we experience Palm Sunday tomorrow, keep in mind it is not private or personal but always public and in a crowd. It is about community, living together on this earth, taking care of one another and creation, giving hope another chance, singing peace songs, demanding that the grip of war and violence be released and formed into handshakes, and riding together into the heart of empire, facing head-on like Jesus did, the challenges before us.
And may purple flowers rise from little Sunday School pots to remind us that God is still capable of bringing forth new life.
Grace and peace,
Harry