Sidewalk Palms

Last year, I was at the church building on the day before Palm Sunday. In the refrigerator there were 216 palms. Some of them were fawns, and others were singular leaves.

I was overwhelmed by a sense of loss—even sadness—that these palms were not going to be waved in our worship service. I didn’t want them to go to waste. Instead of throwing them away, I had an idea: I’d put them out for the whole neighborhood to use.

I took the palms to the sidewalk in front of the church and spread them out. I took a picture with my phone and then posted on Facebook: “Come and get a palm from the front sidewalk of the church. Hosanna!” A similar message went on the digital sign in front of the church.

Hosanna felt like a particularly good word to post. The word means save us, please! And one-by-one people started to come by and pick up these palms. It was as if they were saying, Save us, please!

It started immediately. Just as I left the building, a youth from our church jumped out of her mother’s car and ran to the sidewalk. She was surprised to see them. She sings in Joyful Noize, and looks forward to waving these palms each year.

She took another palm for her grandmother and dropped it off on her front step. The grandmother took the palm and placed it in a vase. The vase went on the top of the piano, where she has a memorial for her husband. The palm leaf laid across his portrait until it nearly turned to dust. Every time she saw the palm she was reminded of how they learned about steadfast love from one another. This was especially poignant as she was sheltering-in-place alone.

There was another close-knit family going through a difficult time with illness. Not only was a child being treated for cancer, but their grandparent was terminally ill.  A family member saw the Facebook post at 2:00 a.m., and two of the family members jumped into their car immediately to come pick up a palm.

One of them—the one who was terminally ill—called the church office the next week and thanked Sandy. And then she called back the next week just to check in. And she called back the week that followed. After picking up that palm, she started calling the church every week, and a meaningful connection was established in the final weeks of her life.

A member of the church—who lives down the street—came by and picked up a few palms. He had never been in a pandemic before, and mask-wearing was the newest recommendation. Since he doesn’t know how to sew, he decided to take a few palms and weave them into a mask. He admits that it is probably not CDC approved. However, it was meaningful to take a symbol of his faith in a time of crisis and turn it into something new.

The following week, a thank you note came to the church office.

“Dear friends in Christ,” the note read, “Saturday I was walking down Central with my friend (six feet apart) and saw on your sign about the Palms—I was filled with joy. I go to another church and I miss it. We always have palms to wave on that special Sunday. Thank you as I was able to wave my palm singing All Glory, Laud, and Honor. May God bless you!”

* * * 

At first, I was disappointed that we didn’t get to wave these palms in our worship service. However, the palms seemed to have taken on a life of their own. I wonder if they are even more stories that I don’t know about yet. 

As I read the Palm Sunday story this year, I heard the stories of those palms speak to me again. I was reminded of the difficulties of a family fighting cancer together. I heard the stories of grief and isolation. I thought of someone receiving a palm as a simple joy in a bewildering moment.

As I read the John 12, I was transported back to standing alongside Central Ave. spreading out palms on the sidewalk. In my imagination, Central Avenue became a dusty throughway into Jerusalem. The fir trees in the lawn of the church became palm trees.  I was living in a sort of world augmented by a biblical imagination. Any rigid lines between the secular and the scared were blurred. I felt invited to dwell in both the Word and the world.

Then I noticed something that I had never considered before. On Palm Sunday, we always sing Hosanna and wave the palms like we are in a ticker tape parade. In the biblical story, though, the palms are never waved.  We have made a choice to wave in the palms—it’s not in the story. We celebrate the arrival of a new hope with them. We cling to the palms as symbols of victory and we cheer.

But in doing so, are we missing something powerful about Jesus?

The Gospel of John makes no mention of what the crowds did with the palms: “They took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him.” However, other gospel accounts highlight how the branches were used: “Most of the crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road.”

Last year’s Palm Sunday, was a more biblical re-enactment of the story than when we wave them. When we spread out those branches along the road, they touched upon something new. We took the palms outside of our regularly-scheduled worship, and by spreading them out they got a little dirty. The palms touched upon our fears, our loss, our grief, and even the joy that gets mixed into all of those uncertainties. I’m glad those palms touch the places of deep yearning in our lives. I’m glad our palms got a little dirty on the sidewalk.

The facilities manager didn’t get the memo that I had placed on Facebook about the palms, and he was a little disappointed later in the week in the landscaping company. He even made a phone call to that effect. How did they miss this big, messy pile of leaves on the church sidewalk? It looks like they placed them there! I told him, “Umm…you might want to call them back. My bad.” 

The branches and cloaks placed in front of Jesus were done with a particular intent. The intent of this practice was to keep the one entering the city neat and clean. Roads can be a messy place. They are full of dirt and mud. Travelers often lose a little luggage or litter. The purpose of the palms and cloaks was to keep the entering royalty above the messiness of the road.

They were meant to keep Jesus above the messiness of the road. You’d want the entering king to keep his feet clean and keep the dust off of his robes. There was an effort to keep the king away from the dirt and grim of the life that everyone else had to endure.

We often suggest that the people waving the palm branches understand something about Jesus. But it might appear that even they were missing the point. The Gospel of John is always trying to work out how people misunderstand Jesus’ betrayal, death, and resurrection, and how Jesus’ life and ministry brings salvation to the world.

Sometimes we act like following Jesus is going to pull us of the messiness of the world. Rather, Jesus shows us fortitude and courage in entering the messiness of our world. Jesus chooses to get messy—because that’s where we are!

Every palm from the sidewalk went someplace a little messy.

Jesus never chooses to hover above our mess without getting dirty. I bet this is why Jesus got in so much trouble. He touched those who weren’t supposed be touched. He embraced those who were supposed to be ignored. He gathered those who were divided and conquered for a meal. Jesus always choses love over fear.

Jesus did not need the palms and cloaks. Jesus relishes in joining us. Jesus has always graciously embraced the parts of our world that we try to cover up with cloaks and branches. Jesus brings salvation not by covering up our hurt and pain, instead Jesus enters into it and transforms us. Jesus meet us in our messiness. Jesus does not try to cover up human frailty.

That’s the power of the cross. The cross does not do away with messiness. Rather, Jesus shows us a way to meet each other in our messiness, so that we can see it and share it, and to find new life on the other side.

In an odd twist, I wonder if we try to keep Jesus out the messiness when we wave our palms. It becomes like we are cheering a celebrity instead of laying out our lives and shouting, “Save us, please!” Our faith becomes something that we expect will keep secluded from the needs of the world.

Jesus offers us a different invitation: Enter with me into the messiness. See what I can do when we enter into this together.  

Are we willing to wade into the messiness with Jesus all of the way to the cross?

* * *

Palm Sunday is one my favorite Sundays of the year, and I thought I’d be really glad to wave my palm again. However, I’m starting to have second thoughts. The stories uncovered by last year's palms still speak to me. No one was waving palms when Jesus arrives in Jerusalem. I’m not sure I’m ready to go back to waving my palm in the ways we have become accustomed.

Instead of trying to cover up the messiness, what if we trust Jesus enters it? What if we join each other in sharing it and allowing the mess to be redeemed?

Those who laid the palm branches and cloaks out on the road may have been misguided. Jesus never asks us to hide our problems; Jesus never seeks to rise above human pain. That’s not how God ever intends to save us.

Maybe we use Palm Sunday to offer a corrective. Maybe before you arrive at worship, the sidewalk to the church is already lined in palms. Instead of covering the road in palms, we uncover the road for Jesus.  The worshippers are invited to pick up a palm, point to the ground, and say, “Check out this mess. Look what I’ve found."

Here is my illness.

Here is my grief.

Here is my insecurity.

Here is my loneliness.

Here is hunger.

Here is childhood poverty.

Here is discrimination and racism.

Save us, please. Hosanna!

Then you wave the palm. You wave that palm all you want. You wave it because you know Jesus is going to come right through that mess. Put the palm in a vase on your piano. Make a piece of art out of the palm.  

Wave that palm all you want because we don’t have to hide from our creator. Wave that palm because Jesus shows us victory over pain and death and sin not by hiding it but by confronting it.

Wave that palm because nothing can separate us from the love of God. Wave that palm because God enters our messiness. And as you wave that palm, show one another that world that Jesus is re-creating and loving into being.