I love Palm Sunday. At my church, we start in the parish hall. The verger, thurifer, boat bearer, cross and torches lead the way outdoors. Our magnificent choir, clergy, and entire congregation, all waving palm fronds, follow. We walk through a large courtyard and up to the front doors of the church. We go into the church singing loudly and beautifully, and the air fills with song and incense as we approach the altar.
During the service, I watch and see some people holding tightly to their palm fronds, the fronds sticking straight in the air as they hold it and a hymnal or prayer book. I see some people folding the long fronds into small crosses. The thurifer stands near the bishop and the little boat girl nearby, quiet, and obedient, sometimes waving her little hand in the smoke of the thurible. It is a beautiful sight. It is an important service and everyone present senses the importance.
What are we doing? We are remembering the triumphant march of Jesus into Jerusalem. The city was tense, and the last thing that the city rulers wanted was trouble. They knew who Jesus was and if he came to town when the city was on edge, there could be trouble. Jesus knew and accepted his fate. His entry into Jerusalem was loud and noisy. The people shouted
The next time he makes his entry into the New Jerusalem, I don't think anyone will doubt who he is. It will be very clear. I try to prepare my heart each day, especially during Lent, and Palm Sunday is a reminder that this is only our dress rehearsal for the real, true, coming Palm Sunday when Jesus returns and everything changes.
It's hard to focus on this for me, sometimes. It is Lent, and that's when I should ponder these things. However, I've been unemployed for months. I fit right into the slot of people who are not likely to get help. The stimulus package, as far as I can tell, has nothing to directly help me. No cash in my pocket. No job. No insurance. Nothing. The market crash robbed the value of my assets prior to unemployment, and months later, there is still little financial hope for me.
This situation that I am in can be distracting during Lent. I must point out that it does not change my faith. I have faith in God. I have faith in Jesus. I just don't understand. But neither do my children always understand me as a parent. Yet, they have faith in me to ultimately care for them, feed them, clothe them, give them warm beds, and there's no shortage of toys despite our situation. If I expect my children to have faith and trust in me - a very imperfect person - then I have to have faith and trust in God.
I don't ask "Why me?" because I know that God loves me. I have to accept this situation. I do not have to like it, and I will not just sit back and wait for a miracle stimulus check to land in my mail box. I doubt it will. I have to get up and search for work, search for solutions, use the gifts that God has given me to provide for my family. And I cannot forget my Christian duty to love and serve the Lord, to pray, and to go to church.
My family is having tough times, no doubt. But even that cannot take from me what God will give me, if I will accept it: love and salvation. All these earthly things will pass. Life is certainly easier with some of them, and I hate the thought of losing them. But we will survive.
I have to stay focused. I have to imagine Christ, looking at the city of Jerusalem as he approached. He had complete faith and trust in God for all things. How I wish I had that strength. I cannot have it alone, but I can have it if I will cling to Jesus' robes and walk beside him. So now I imagine my family and me, walking next to the colt with the Messiah, ready to accept whatever happens when we pass through the gates of the city. I imagine what next Sunday will look like. Probably it will look like the Palm Sundays of the years before at my church. We'll start in the parish hall, we will walk outdoors, and walk through the front doors of the church singing Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord. Blessed is the coming
