Holding Joy and Sorrow, Palm Sunday Reflection

Palm Sunday is a feast that showcases the extremes of human experiences. It begins in triumph but ends in tragedy. Things can turn on a dime, and as we move through the events described in the Gospels, we’re turn topsy-turvy with it all too. Over this week we call holy, we’ll hold it all: from the parade to the sacred meal with loved ones to the trial and crucifixion to that liminal space of waiting to the triumph of resurrection. As we accompany Jesus through these highs and lows, we’re meant to find ourselves in his life and to see Christ in our life too.

Each year we read the exact same readings, and yet, we don’t read them the same way. Why? Because although the stories from Scripture don’t change, we ourselves are not the same people reading them. Since last year’s Holy Week, we’ve had whole year of growth and change and new joys and sorrows. There may be a piece of this familiar story that we hear in a different way, a new insight that we gain, a new way that this time in Jesus’s life resonates with our own life.

This year what I notice is how quickly things change from one extreme to another, although I don’t know why I’m surprised by this. Life is full of transition, and I know that from my own experience. Despite that, though, there is something in me that always thinks things will stay the way they are. Do you know what I mean? Like, my family will always be the way it is, even though we’ve lost loved ones and also gained new ones as babies are born and people get married. Each year when holidays come around, I tend to think, “Christmas will be the way it always is” or “This is how we’ll celebrate Easter because we always do.” And yet, each year, each experience, each holiday is unique. Different people are there, either because of their schedules or because of losses and additions to my family. And even if the same people are there year after year, each one of us comes with a whole year of growth and change and movement. So, each holiday is a unique experience. In fact, every single day of each person’s life is brand new. We bring all the other days and experiences of our lives with us, but each day has the potential for its own joys and sorrows.

I’m reflecting on this as I consider that Passover meal Jesus celebrates with his friends. Passover comes around each year, and each year the ritual is the same. This time, for some reason, Passover involves procuring a donkey and, subsequently, walking in a parade, so that’s different, maybe even weird for the disciples. However, the meal and what they eat and how they eat it is familiar; it’s a traditional holiday celebrated in a particular way each year. And Jesus gathers those closest to him, which may have been some family members and also his disciples, his chosen family.

Another unique thing about this particular celebration is that when Jesus takes up the bread and cup, the usual part of the meal, this time he says that the bread and wine are his body and blood. Hm. That’s different, maybe even strange to those gathered at the table. Oh well. Jesus is kind of always doing weird stuff and his followers are always trying to keep up, and so they’ve probably learned to just go with it. And so they finish the meal. There’s talk of betrayal, and that’s weird too, but it’s a family celebration, so they keep moving through it. Somebody says something weird at every holiday, right? Because everyone has that family member, so even though it's weird, it seems normal. Then Jesus wants to leave dinner to go and pray somewhere, and so they go with him. They all have full bellies and they’ve had some wine, so they fall asleep.

This holiday seems like every other one, despite its uniqueness, for everyone except Jesus. Maybe the disciples assume they’ll continue to celebrate Passover this way with Jesus year after year. Maybe next year they won’t have to get the donkey, but they assume, like we do, that life will keep rolling on. Passover comes around every year and they celebrate, and meanwhile, life continues.

Except that this year, Passover with Jesus ends. In fact, life as they know it ends. Following Jesus around and healing and preaching and teaching, this life of discipleship that they’ve become accustomed to, well, it will all end. I think that’s part of the shock of big changes. Even though we know that life keeps changing and we keep changing, it’s easy to think that things will always be the way they are. But that’s not true.

There is no always. There is only now, this present moment. As much as my mind tends to look forward and think about the future, and although I also reflect on the past, what I really have is this moment and this day. I think it’s really hard to wrap my head around that, but it’s also a good reminder to live in this moment because we never know what’s around the bend.

At the same time, though, what I do know is that God is with me in whatever’s around the bend, and I have to bear that in mind too, especially in the hard times. For those close to Jesus, there’s probably a moment, or several moments, in the ups and downs of this Passion story, in which their hope waxes and wanes. When they see Jesus condemned to death, maybe they still have a little hope that he’ll get out of this situation like he did before when things got dicey, but then they see him nailed to that cross. Maybe even then some of them still sustain the hope that he’ll get himself down off of there and maybe go into hiding for a time. But then he dies. After that, hope is gone.

But we know that life without Jesus is not what’s around the bend. Even as we enter into the rituals of Holy Thursday and Good Friday, we know that Easter is coming. This crucifixion will not end in death. There is a death, yes, but that’s not the end. We, like the disciples, may have times in life when we feel like all is lost. However, the cross is not the end for us either. We are also bound up in resurrection. At our baptism, we we’re assured that we both die and rise with Christ. That happens in the afterlife with Christ, but it’s also the reality of our lives now, that in our daily ups and downs we die and rise with Christ over and over and over. Our suffering and joy mean something, and they’re bigger than just us. We are the wounded and resurrected body of Christ. We live and die with Christ and Christ dies and rises within us too.

Over these holy days, I hope we do take the time to really enter in to the prayer and ritual offered to us. It’s an invitation to reflection on the complicated range of emotions we experience. Besides sadness and joy, there’s the whole gamut of other emotions and experiences — anger, dismay, disappointment, confusion, doubt, fear, and on and on. When we struggle to hold the extremes of our own experiences, when the intensity is just too much, we remember that God holds us.

As we move through this holy time, may we know how closely God is present with us. May we be open to God’s love and care in all that we experience. Amen.

 For reflection:

• What are the losses or areas of sadness in your heart right now? Where is God with you in these sorrows?

• And what are some of the joys in your life? Where is God?

• What part of the Passion story resonates with you the most? What is it about this part that speaks so deeply to you? Maybe take a little time to listen to what God has to tell you about this story and about your life.

By Sister Leslie Keener, CDP

Sister Leslie Keener, CDP is the director of God Space, a community-building spirituality ministry in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. She’s a Sister of Divine Providence with a Masters in Ministry and a Certificate in Spiritual Direction and Retreats from Creighton University. She directs retreats, meets with people for spiritual direction, and serves as the vocation director for her community. She also serves on the Board of Spiritual Directors International. She enjoys music, meaningful conversations, and seeking God in all things.