Palm Sunday !

Today Christians commemorate what’s called Palm Sunday after the palm-strewn triumphal entrance into Jerusalem of THE LORD JESUS CHRIST (as my best friend in childhood always called him). Now the story sometimes goes that this was one of your typical ragtag joyful spontaneous moments. 

A popular figure is glimpsed coming through the rock archway of a city’s stone walls, in this case riding a donkey–surrounded by jubilant friends and wannabe friends. The shout of joy is infectious. It seems that the whole world loves this man! Except for those onlooking authorities over there.

The only ones who aren’t shouting and strewing palm fronds and garments are … the stones. That’s what I’m thinking about here. Those stones. they aren’t shouting. They are just lying crammed together, hard as rocks paving the streets down which (some now say) the LORD OF CREATION is making his slow way (—toward the temple to throw out the lobbyists?). Maybe he’s smiling? Radiant? The story says he’ll be weeping when he gets to the Mt of Olives–once covered in groves, today site of 150,000 graves, including those of rabbis, politicians, and Queen Elizabeth’s mother-in-law. Now nothing but minerals buried like gold in the earth.

No one’s even ever sat on this donkey before, they say. maybe this is even more special than your average celebrity video? The donkey’s hooves are gripping cobblestones as they pass and all kinds of people are fanning the way as they mosey along. Hosannah! Hosannah! (What the heck does that mean, btw?)

But those stones! In all this tumult, this shouting and proclaiming over a prophet from Nazareth–well, it’s these stones underfoot I’m thinking of. I mean, how come they don’t get to shout? Wouldn’t you like to see stones shouting, carrying on? maybe popping like corn kernels out of the pavement. Pebbles hopping and leaping and proclaiming that this is the most peculiar (singular) man that ever lived?

I feel like such a stone sometimes myself. Tiny dense cold hard. can’t quite make myself feel what this strange man is all about. I mean I’ve heard of him and all that. He’s special, wants me to know him. But. I can’t quite feel that sometimes when I’m thinking of it. Sometimes when I’d like to.

Maybe … Maybe….

Maybe if everyone else was forced by the stoney authorities to keep quiet? maybe then, tentatively …I’d have nerve… and then even joy enough…to to shout?

Would like to think so. I hope so.

Yes, I’ll hope so.

But, on the other hand, i’m only a stone, a little hard pebble. And the peer pressure would probably be too much for me.

BUT, ON A THIRD HAND, Blessed Be The King That Cometh In The Name Of The Lord: Peace In Heaven, And Glory In The Highest!!

Stones, I think, can be made to sing. Didn’t the stars sing and shout at their making? At their re-making? At their life, death, and resurrection?