Convergence of riches

Yes, the tree remains in the corner of the living room. The cats love it. In fact, so do we.

A convergence

Of riches:

Palm Sunday

Beginning of spring

Pussy willows

Fully greened

Kitten in the middle

Of the Tree

Once Christmas

Now Holy Week

Soon enough Easter.

We may drape it in red

For the Passion,

Perhaps plastic Easter eggs

To symbolize

The empty tomb

Yet one more tradition

To create

Out of scraps of spring

Branches of pussy willow

Kitten in its boughs:

Convergence

Of riches.

In the midst of life

Today brought a gift of a sermon to my email box. 

http://inwardoutward.org/tag/lent-year-b/?utm_source=inward%2Foutward+email+subscribers&utm_campaign=cd4721c677-The+Story&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_791e8aa8ec-cd4721c677-70564269

A gift for my sixtieth birthday. Lovely.

In the midst of life,

We are in death.

In the midst of death

Life.

Palms strewn

Donkeys ridden

Crowds cheering

On the way

To the upper room

To the Garden

To beyond.

But that is for later.

In the midst of life,

I am in death.

In the midst of death,

Life.

Today my birthday

Holds hands

With both,

One on either side.

We intertwine our fingers.

All is as it must be.

Pony

Palm Sunday and the donkey from the last couple years was rented to another church before we got to her.  So this year we had a pony named Duchess.  Our family consensus is that temperamentally Duchess had Molly the donkey beat, hands down. 

The week began

With a pony.

She was sold

As a donkey.

But

The donkey from last year

Made other arrangements.

So the week really began

With a pony,

Palms and a pony

Named Duchess;

Palms,

A lovely pony

By the name of Duchess

And a parade.

The donkey will never know

What she missed.

Exsultet

St. Mark's didn't reserve Molly the donkey in time, so we will have a pony (or some sort of cross-breed) this year for Palm Sunday.  No worries... we have already reserved Molly for 2015.  At staff meeting I found myself asking about who would sing the Exsultet at the Easter Vigil.  Would you like to do it? came the question.  So the Palm Sunday procession will be led by a pony, and I will sing in the Light of Christ at the Easter Vigil.  A new kind of Holy Week.  We will see where it goes from there.

Lent this year

Has meant the recalibration

Of my brain,

The welcome

Of a new kind of spring.

It has meant

The recognition

That Jesus will ride

A pony this year

Rather than

The requisite donkey

In the Palm Sunday procession.

Lent this year

Has meant the practice

Includes the descent

To dark places,

The ascent to the final light.

This year

At the end of Lent

I will exalt the Light

In the Mozarabic tone.

I may figure

What Resurrection might mean

Even to the tone

Of riding in

On a pony.

Cue the nap

I remember Holy Weeks past... most always being the solo priest in charge of liturgies.  This is not my role now.  My beloved reminds me of the time we were dating and I fell sound asleep at Easter brunch in a restaurant.  I still have Sunday afternoon nap triggers, even when I sit in the pew and have nothing to do with liturgy except show up and worship.  Today we didn*t even gather outside to process with the donkey.  I did pet the donkey on the way back from brunch.  I*m not sure that counts.

Palm Sunday inspired

The traditional Sunday afternoon

Nap.

Donkey?

Check.

Good liturgy including

A sermon with a map

Of Jerusalem?

Check.

Impromptu lunch

With friends?

Check.            

Home to a hot cup of tea?

Check.

Silent house?

Check.

Cat?

Check.

Favorite blue recliner clear

And ready for occupation?

Check.

Wind outside the windows

Signaling the weather change?

Check.

Cue the nap.

The rest of the palm trees

I was afraid they had pitched the rest of the VBS palm trees in the dumpster.  No.  Now they are living in the church attic.  They await the next occasion.  I don*t know when the one in my office will be moved home.  It actually looks good next to my office window.  I can almost imagine living and practicing in the Tropics...

The palm tree

Hasn*t made it home yet.

It looks so nice in the corner

Of my small office

Next to the window;

Almost like it was made

To be there.

My office now has

A tropical air,

Aided by the tree:

Burlap bottom,

Scrunched paper bag trunk,

Kelly green felt

Palm fronds.

I understand

Its brother and sister trees

Now live in the church attic.

They wait for Palm Sunday

Next year,

Or perhaps

Another tropical occasions.

I am glad

They all

Were saved.

No donkey today

I missed the Palm/Passion Sunday liturgy today.  While other church-types were playing swordfights with the palms, and singing All Glory, Laud and Honor in strung-out processions and even pro-cessing with a donkey, we were driving home through Wisconsin, with my daughter accruing several behind-the-wheel hours on her drivers* permit.  She is already a very good driver.  I figure there is more than one way to pro-cess.  Holy Week has begun.

No donkey today.

Only the journey

On Wisconsin roads.

Palm Sunday, realized

I liked it.  A lot.  More than liked it.  It has never made much sense to me to read the Passion twice, once from the Gospel appointed for the year on Palm/Passion Sunday, and then again from John every Good Friday.  It always felt like an appeasement to those who did not have time for Holy Week.  I was in a parish early on in ordained life in which we made buttons which said Walk with us (through Holy Week).  Made it a marketing campaign.  But still we read the Passion on Palm Sunday.  I liked it this way better.  The (maybe) donkey, the teddy bears, the postponing of the Passion until the day it occurred, the sermon which focused on hope in the midst of pain.  I never could figure out how to preach post-Passion.  Today formed a whole, and an invitation to stay and experience what happens next.

The donkey*s name was Molly.

The running conversation over lunch

Was whether she was a mule

Or a jenny.

The ears weren*t quite

A donkey*s ears.

No trumpets, and still the hymn

Did not line up

From front to back.

Best of all, I think,

We did not do the crazy-making thing

With the palm procession,

Then the crucifixion

Ten minutes later.

Donkey, mule, jenny,

Notwithstanding.

Definitely better.

Children and adults both

Brought teddy bears to be donated

To children

In the hospital;

They lined the front of the altar

Four bears deep.

The sermon spoke hope in the midst

Of pain.

Again, no matter the nature of the animal

Who walked behind the processional cross,

The invitation to continue the walk

through the week,

Made sense this year

In a way it rarely has

Before.

With more than ten minutes between

The palms

And the Passion

There is time to live into the news

All the news

So the bells and alleluias make sense

At the End,

Make sense

At the Beginning again.

Palm Sunday, anticipated

Tomorrow we will have a donkey at both the 9:15 and 10:30 services.  I am curious about the logistics, having had more than my share of interesting Palm Sunday procession experiences, with the usual players: cold weather, rain, unwilling participants, confusion (we only do this once a year), not to mention the end of the line being almost a full verse behind the beginning of the line, no matter how well the trumpet blares out *All Glory, Laud, and Honor*   This year we will add a donkey to the mix.  Animals always add their share of interesting to any situation.  I can*t wait.

Palm Sunday is always different

Than planned.

Whenever there is a group of people

Walking from one place

To another,

There is room for innovation,

Some planned,

Most not.

Growing up

We had palm sword fights

In procession,

Tickled one another with palms

Throughout the service 

when our parents weren*t looking.

How much sense does it really make

To import palm fronds to Minnesota?

We never considered substitutions.

On Palm Sunday we were in Jerusalem

Walking

Waving palms

Conducting sword fights

Tickling.

Tomorrow there will be a donkey,

An innovation sure to bring

Something different.

Whenever there is a group of people

Walking from one place to another

Led by a donkey

There is room for innovation:

Some planned.

Probably most of it

Will be a surprise.