Living in Coronaviruswolrd 259: Holy Week begins

 3/31

Palms

Passing out palms

Holy Week begins.  A mild Sunday morning. Palm Sunday.Time for the Times, a cherry Danish and a latte at my Venezuelan cafe.  Walking down the Boulevard, the First Corinthian Baptist Church is still covid closed.  But under the scaffolding, there are long tables, fresh cut palms, church volunteers passing then out to all who pass.  I take two. This will be my celebration. 

I hold the palms, remember a lifetime of Palms. In my early days at West Park, tall Eric from Jamaica would take his machete and cut the palms for everyone.  And before and after services, our ushers would pass them out on Amsterdam Avenue, we would pass out the palms. Always saving some to turn to ashes next Ash Wednesday,

As a child, it was just Palm Sunday. Waving palms and sung hosannas.  But sometime in the 70’s, fearing people would leap directly from the joy of Palm Sunday to the joy of Easter without passing through the passion and darkness of Holy Week, it liturgically transformed into Palms to Passion Sunday.  A tall order, telling that whole story. One year, Katherine and I created our own liturgy based on Stephen Mitchell’s telling of the story in his Gospel According to Jesus. One year, Greg led us with his berimbau chanting hosanna like a capoeirista. 

In later years, Theatre Dzieci would bring their Passion play to us. Transposing the story of this executed Jew into ghetto Poland. Trading parts unit all had been Jesus and all Judas. As it is and we are. (http://dziecitheatre.org/)

At our Monday Bible Study,  we studied the story in Mark, (11: -11). We notice details. Jesus, in a parody of a Roman triumphant entry, riding on a donkey, a beast of burden,  not a stallion, a war horse. He had sent agents out to get a donkey, using coed language in what Ched Myers in Binding the Strong Man) sees as evidence of a well organized underground resistance. 

The people spread branches in front of him. (Only John specifies palms.) they are shouting Hosanna, save us…now! Hoping this will be the beginning of liberation. And then  goes to the temple and looks around. (Myers wonders, a reconnaissance mission?) And leaves. Tomorrow he will return, to overturn the tables, his final  direct action campaign.

We are not out of the narrow place, mizraim, Egypt, yet. We are not yet liberated. Though we who are privileged must understand the difference between  our captivity and the material oppression of so many of our brothers and sisters here and globally. 

At our Monday songwriter workshop, a friend offers a new song, ‘Spring Fever,” about how it’s that time of year again. Of white men shooting up places and killing people.  Happens every year.              

We live in world  of bullies. Netanyahu, Bolsinaro. Myanamar. Ambazonia. Hong Kong. Jesus on the donkey denies their power and offers a different kind of leader. We may for may not be ready for. 

We follow him into Jerusalem, not knowing what comes next even as we step out of our houses and begin to look around. Wide eyed, expectant, hopeful and anxious.  Through these streets we marched last summer..Black lives matter…peaceful protest…no justice no peace. If  we don’t get it, shut it down. 

Palm Sunday,.Holy Week begins.