Palm Sunday

Pay attention. Something huge is about to happen.

It’s already here…the time has crept up so stealthily, it seems. All my hope, all my trust, all my love–it’s all coming to its climax in a week. Easter. Lent makes so much more sense; it’s that bugle cry announcing the Son of David, the voice crying to prepare the way in your life for Christ to enter the Jerusalem of your heart.

Something huge is about to happen.

I didn’t think I’d cry. I’ve been going to Palm Sunday Mass all my life. It was always full of anticipation, but never like this.

It never really hit me that when I say, “Crucify him!’, I’m just doing the same thing I do every time I sin.

No. Worse.

I drive the nails into His hands with my own.

I take the whip to his blameless back, as if it weren’t about to carry the weight of the world.

I thrust the cross in His face and mock Him for embracing it.

And all the while, He prays, “Father, forgive them…forgive him…”

And all I can see are the tears streaming down Mary’s face…and I cry because I’m begging her to forgive me for doing this to her Son…

Pay attention.

I don’t have much to give you this Lent, Lord. Somehow these weeks seem to have flown by without my noticing; the little I’ve done to prepare feels so ridiculously inadequate now. All I have is this cloak and this palm branch.

So I lay them down now, and ask You to let me walk with You to Your cross.

Pay attention. Something huge is about to happen.