I find that in the midst of COVID-19 and #stayathome orders, I am reverting to behaviors I discovered and developed while I lived overseas my junior year of college as well as later in life for work. The moments and traditions I treasure can’t be captured or created in the usual way, so I don’t try. I think about how can I make this different, fulfilling in a new way given the new circumstances.
Today is Palm Sunday, the holiest week of the year for those who follow Christ. For me, it is my absolute favorite time of the year. The liturgy is rich with nuance and meaning, the readings hold the essence of our faith and the music, oh the music. Let’s just have a humble brag and say the my choir knocks it out of the park. I love this time of the year. You can have Christmas, I’ll take Lent, through Palm Sunday, Easter, and right up to Pentecost. It nourishes and fills my soul.
It isn’t a wonder that not being able to experience Palm Sunday and Holy Week in my usual way has me feeling unbalanced and unfulfilled. But last night I was thinking that I had to create something to move me. I couldn’t grieve the loss. Rather I needed to create something new. Something that would make this year stand out as different, because it is.
I’ve tried watching the Mass online but it just doesn’t do it for me. As a Catholic, Mass is all about community and participation. To simply watch and individually participate at home doesn’t work for me. Even if I was in a room with family or friends, I still think it wouldn’t fulfill me.
This week, I prayed and asked, what can I do to start this holiest of weeks in a way that is going to put me in the right state of mind and fill by heart. Fortunately I live close to the Cathedral of St. Paul, in St. Paul, Minnesota. As a national shrine, the Cathedral has been formally recognized for its special historical, cultural and religious significance. It is our “local” place to pray outside of Rome. And on Palm Sunday, they would be outside distributing palms from 9am – 11am. I felt it pressed on my heart to “make a pilgrimage” to the Cathedral.
I pulled on my coat and gloves, put in my ear buds and listened to today’s scripture readings as I took the 20 minutes walk uphill to the Cathedral. I arrived fairly close to 9am. Two priests were outside handing out baggies of palms. I was at that time the only one to have walked up. I’m sure I wasn’t the last as the Cathedral is very much in the neighborhood.
As I listened to the scriptures during my journey, I felt incredibly moved – I thought about the victims of the criminal Barabbas and the pain felt at his release. I thought about Judas, going to the chief priests to return the silver, I thought about the crowds crying out “crucify him. “
After receiving my palms, the priest asked me if there was anything else he could do for me. I asked for a blessing, which he graciously offered. The tears at that point began to fall from my eyes and down my cheeks. I turned and began my walk home.
Along the way, I saw a tent of a homeless person and another person with a sign asking for money. I so wanted to open my little baggie and offer a palm. But I didn’t. What held me back from that simple gesture of prayer to another human? Was it fear – not fear of personal harm, but fear that it wouldn’t matter or make a difference. They would just simply cast aside my palm seeing it at something not practical that they can use – like clothing, a blanket or even cash. Again, I wept for my own lack of courage.
I came home and made a cross and a heart from my palms. I taped them to my windows and the sunlight powers through the branches as I write this. And my mind continues to whirl with thoughts. Palm Sunday. Not what I expected, but certainly one I won’t forget. Amen.