Celebrating Palm Sunday

This Sunday is Palm Sunday. When I was little it was my favorite church holiday. I liked the palm. I considered it to be like a party favor. I liked the way it slid through my fingertips. I also liked the Passion—it was like a play set at mass. It was very dramatic. And afterwards we always went to the Bronx to visit my grandparents. My grandfather Vespo would make all the grandchildren small crosses from the palm. It was an artform lost in his generation.

I also remember that Palm Sunday marked the debut of my spring coat and new patent leather shoes. I also carried a matching bag and wore white cotton gloves. I thought I was all that.

This Sunday I will be on a plane returning from Atlanta. I will likely be wearing cropped jeans, a cotton sweater and a short trench coat on top. My bag is metallic and on my feet I will be wearing flats. No spring coat. No patent leather. And no white gloves either. The only palm I will have will be whatever extra pieces my mother takes from mass that day. No loving touch will not convert it into a cross.

The day will be quiet and uneventful---no different than any other Sunday. Nothing like that of my childhood.

Things change.

But the real meaning of Palm Sunday is eternal. Jesus made a triumphant entry into Jerusalem. People cried Hosanna! Jesus was embraced. But things changed—and even Jesus was not immune to it.

Change is part of God’s plan.