Palm Sunday's Whys

They've crucified my Lord.

I didn't have all the answers to my son's questions on Palm Sunday as we drove from church to my parents' farm, our weekly routine to eat something delicious my father prepares for lunch.

"Why did Peter deny Jesus? Why did Jesus ask for swords? Why did he stop the violence when he was the one who told them to get swords? Why did the people call for someone else's release when Jesus had done so much for them?"

Well, I did pretty good espousing on the Peter and Pilate parts. I got nothing about the swords. Any ideas?

Gabe said it was good that Woo, his pastor grandmother, had included those "reflexive times" (silent reflection) throughout the Passion story because "it's like one big riddle."

I assured him that people could spend their entire lives in this story and always find something new to explore, some piece of it that will send them into quiet contemplation.

We spent the rest of the time discussing themes of doubt and just how hard it is to consistently follow even a teacher as good as Jesus.

You know me, I'm a Lent junkie, but I find myself wanting to race through Holy Week this time. My mother's father died last week, and I am in awe of the strength she summoned to mark the sign of the cross in healing oil on congregants' foreheads, assuring them: all that is broken will be made whole, all who ache will be healed, all who are threatened will be made safe. God will fill us with grace.

Bring it on! Easter, Easter, get here!

But Jesus is in the tomb. The veil is rent. The spices and ointments are prepared and patiently waiting to be applied.

The sanctuary will be stripped. The lights will go out. My mother will slam the Bible shut and send us out in silence, our private reflection our only fellowship.

But even in the Passion there is hope to which to cling. A righteous man refused to go along with the theocratic frenzy. Criminals cried out to be remembered and were promised paradise.

Jesus poured out a new covenant, even as he was sitting among his enemies and those who would abandon him and deny him.

There is love and promise in this story. Like the tiny crocus flowers that are the first to poke their delicate blooms through the early spring ground, braving the inevitable cold snaps that winter throws at us for good measure as its season dies, this grace assures us that an abundance of tulips and lilies and daffodils and hyacinths are coming.

So pick a small bloom from the story and let it be your light this vigil.

Discuss it with a teenager, and you'll have enough reflection for the whole week.

Comments

[Randall Job]

I agree there is probably an in finate amount of lessons and ideas one can pull from most if not all of the stories in the bible.