Palms in the Streets
[I rarely write about my faith because I don’t want to offend anyone who doesn’t share my beliefs. This week, however, is the Holy Week that leads up to Easter and I’d like to write some thoughts about that. So if that’s not of interest, feel free to check back in next Monday. Not trying to convert or offend anyone, just wanting to share what’s on my mind.]
Yesterday during Palm Sunday services I experienced the complex emotions associated with Jesus riding the donkey colt into Jerusalem. His followers were laying palms and cloaks down on his path in a sign that he was their king. He chose to ride a donkey, a sign of peace, as opposed to a horse, which would have indicated his identity as a warrior. How must it have felt to him, knowing all that would unfold? Knowing that he would be betrayed and killed? Knowing that although the crowds then greeted him as a king, there would be other throngs of people yelling, “Crucify him!” within a mere five days.
For thoughtful Christians, Holy Week weighs heavy on our hearts. But I think that’s the point. We all have our job in contributing to God’s kingdom. Not everyone gets an easy ride. Their are people suffering among us. Innocent, good-hearted people who face frightening and unfair battles. I’m beginning my week remembering the vulnerable among us with a plan to see if I can spot one person each day who might need a kind word or gesture. There will be deliveries this week to people and organizations who are not expecting it to help them continue their missions to improve the lives of others. There will be small gestures. It might be a quick note to a teacher or to someone I’ve had some tension with to say that I hope we can put it behind us. Our family’s palms are in the foyer of our home greeting us all week so we’ll remember the meaning of them on the streets on Jerusalem.