But some of those same folks were probably in Jerusalem later on. On Palm Sunday Jesus was local boy made good, wow-I-knew-him-when, a celebrity they could relate to even more than a ruler, king, or Messiah. And the frenzy has that ephemeral feeling; too good to last. We can read foreboding into the Easter story; I wonder if that dread was palpable back then.
Because we knew what was coming during Holy Week, I was of two minds when we began to get the little palm crosses at our church on Palm Sunday. First of all, I thought they were neat; I hadn't seen a real palm and enjoyed the waxy but sharp texture of the leaf. On the other hand, why were we celebrating when Good Friday was just around the corner?
Tomorrow we'll listen to the little kids sing their hosannas in church. We'll hope no one gets an eye poked not by just some little palm cross, but by an entire palm frond. With the momentous events of Holy Week upon us, this Sunday is a good time to take a deep breath, step back from our worldly cares and pursuits, sing our praise songs briefly, then meditate on the tremendous willful sacrifice and miraculous result of the Resurrection. Hosanna, all you people.