This Sunday was Palm Sunday. One of the High Holy Days of the Church. Not sure why I felt the need to capitalize all of those words. Maybe to add some weight to it and to further show off my high churchiness.
The narrative for the day begins as a big celebration, Jesus arriving on the back of donkey in Jerusalem, everyone waving palms and laying them on his path, shouting "Hosanna".
And yet the day ends in despair. Jesus is betrayed, handed over to Pontius Pilate, tried, found guilty, tortured and finally, executed.
In my church we did a recreation of the narrative and I must say we did it to great effect. No lines were spoken by the participants, instead the reading was carried out by two readers out of sight in the balcony. The 'actors', of which I was one, were mere stand ins as it where, a visual representation of what was being read to the congregation.
A very dramatic liturgical scene. And it worked.
Now, the idea of Palm Sunday for me is so bittersweet. For of course we have Jesus arriving to great acclamation only to end up being the object of scorn and ultimately being crucified. As it is designed, it sets the tone for Holy Week.
The rest of the week is steeped in darkness, some of it a reminder (at least in theory) of the same scene as Palm Sunday, going from light into darkness. Maundy Thursday is representative of that as is the service of Tennebrae that many Roman Catholic and some Episcopal churches (including my parish) celebrate.
The descent into darkness is necessary. And now we can feel the joy of Easter tugging at us so it is easier to deal with it. Hopefully we have been wrestling with darkness plenty up until now, through our long journey of Lent.
And if not, this week can help serve as reminder of the necessity of Lent and of despair, crucifixion, and of death. For only with that darkness comes the light of Jesus and the resurrection.
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