Sunday, April 17, 2011

Palm Sunday

Palm fronds and Hosannas.  A ride into town on a donkey. 

This was so confusing to me as a child.  How could they be celebrating his entrance into town one week and hanging him on the cross the next?

As an adult, I understand.  You can be "on top of the mountain" at one moment and down in the depths the next.  People can turn on you.  Any Middle Schooler in the land can identify.

I always preferred Palm Sunday to Easter.  Some psychologist could have a good time analyzing that.  Palm Sunday was happy.  Easter was betrayal and death.  (Granted there was a resurrection there, but there was a lot of ugly first.)  Easter did involve new dresses and rabbit cookies, but that didn't make up for the nails or the crown of thorns.

The best part of Palm Sunday for me is the music:  "The Holy City"  If LBB (Little Big Brother) is singing that today and didn't call- he is so in trouble!

Jerusalem! Jerusalem!
Hark! How the angels sing,
Hosanna in the highest!
Hosanna to your King!

3 comments:

Mary said...

I never understood how, during the passion, the congregation says the horrible things that were said to crucify Jesus. We have to say those things, since it was our sins that put him in that place.

B. Meandering said...

This past week I had a major example of the quick change of things. I've not thought of the two Sundays from your perspective. Interesting.

Puna said...

I know. It's hard to be joyous about torture. But then again, there's life after it . . .