A Different Kind of Palm Sunday

Yesterday was no different in that I still found myself on the way to church to participate as pianist in the morning worship service. What WAS different, however, is that there were only 6 of us there, keeping the 6-foot protocol between us. What WAS different is that the service was live-streamed instead of just “live.” And what was also different is that on this particular Palm Sunday, there was no pomp and circumstance, no loud hosannas, no palm branches, and certainly no children marching down the aisle waving them.  It was a different kind of Palm Sunday, for sure.  

But there was something else different about this particular Sunday of shouting hosannas. My path to church leads me by the local Episcopal church. In fact, it sits adjacent to the corner where I turn, so I am always aware of its presence. On a normal Sunday morning, there are cars in the parking lot, overflowing into the next. And on a normal Palm Sunday morning, there is a crowd gathered outside its front doors, with each congregant holding a branch. And each year, I would take such delight in the image of joy it presented.

But this Palm Sunday was different. Instead of many cars, there was only one. A white one. And out of it was getting a man of many years who I could tell was approaching being crippled with age. His trek was so slow as he made his way around the front of the vehicle. And in his hand was one lone palm branch. The powerful image took my breath. I turned the corner and continued to watch through the rear-view mirror. Tears welling in my eyes. My own heart shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is He Who comes in the name of the Lord!” 

I went on inside carrying with me the image, even sharing it with some there. But as I left, I knew I wanted to see where the worshiper had placed his branch. And there it was, resting on the stone altar that sits in the partially enclosed garden between the sanctuary and the educational building. 

No, there weren’t any crowds gathered outside of churches. There weren’t any loud organs piping “All Glory, Laud and Honor.” There weren’t any crowds. And there certainly weren’t any children marching down aisles waving branches. But there was one elderly gentleman with a single palm slowly making his way to the stone altar. After all, if he had not, we might have heard the rocks crying out.

“As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice ... “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” “Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” 

He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.””

Luke 19:37-40 NRSV

Just an ordinary moment...