palms.

palm sunday brings about memories of children's choirs singing "hosanna, hosanna, hosanna to the king." palm branches waving. easter cantatas. afternoon easter egg hunts in the front yard of the parsonage. makes me think of last palm sunday. a simple worship service in alma matthews house in greenwich village. alongside some profound future mission interns during interview weekend. where we talked about jesus weeping amidst the praises. because people failed to recognize the things that make for peace. and i had no idea where in the world i would be the next palm sunday.

and all these recollections ran through my mind. as i experienced palm sunday grenada style.

went to the little methodist church in gouyave early. sister christopher brought three simple palms she had borrowed from the catholics in her neighborhood. and she laid them on the prayer altar. later on went to catholic mass back in grand roy. everyone had palm branches. which were blessed with holy water. before we processed around the church. inside, palm branches carpeted the floor. and decorated the pews. and hosannas were sung.

in both services it was palm sunday and passion sunday. so we recognized the triumphant entry of jesus on his humble borrowed donkey. as well as the arrest and trial and cruxifiction. and it was interesting to reflect on such contrasting events within the same worship service. praises and accusations. hosannas and condemnations. the beauty of worship. in juxtaposition with the reality of jesus' suffering. how its just as easy to offer praises as it is to deny jesus. alongside a crowd.

and i long to offer perpetual hosannas. not only with my lips but with my life. but i fail everyday at getting it right. and i'm thankful for the grace of each new day to try again.

and ever since those palm sunday services. i've noticed that there's an abundance of palms all over grenada. everywhere you look, you can't help but set your eyes upon a coconut tree. a fig (banana) tree. or another random plant with palm leaves. and as the trees blow in the easter breeze, they remind me of nature offering its own praises. waving its own palm branches. even if we are silent. even if we fail to honor the holiness around us. the trees are shouting out. and when we realize this, how beautiful it is to sing hosannas. in union with all of creation. in honor of our beautiful Creator.