Lenten Reflection 8: Palm Sunday

Yesterday marked a passage between times, from the end of Great Lent to the beginning of Holy Week (we don't calculate the days of Holy Week as part of Great Lent). Now the "askesis" of the faithful becomes a little more intense. Our family will try to cut back further from "worldly distractions," attend more services this week, and prepare ourselves for the Resurrection.

Holy Week begins with Palm Sunday, for me a day of celebration tinged with a little sorrow. The church reenacts the entry of Christ into Jerusalem, riding on a donkey's foal. On the Saturday before, Kyla and I took time to decorate her candle for the procession (Stephanie had to work). The next day, after Eucharist, each member of our family took palm branches from the front of the church. Even George got in on the action. He waved the palm around a bit, turned it over, and stuck the stem in his mouth.


After the blessing, the congregation exited the church and formed two lines outside. The acolytes and deacons led a process, while those outside cried (or were supposed to cry) "Hosanna!" as it passed by.


Behind the deacons were the children of the church (who always play a big part in these processions). They were followed by Fr. Steven carrying an icon of the Triumphal Entry of Christ into Jerusalem.


I have to admit, I am always a little befuddled by the proclamation of this event as the "triumphal entry." That word triumph is a kind of mask. Jesus was riding into Jerusalem as a king, leading an "insurrection" that was sure to draw the attention of the Romans. He clearly knew he was riding to his demise, even if the disciples had no idea. Jesus was triumphantly riding to his defeat.

Let me preface what I am about to say by making the following observation: I have never seen any church treat the death of the Incarnate God with as much sorrow as the Orthodox Church. Unlike some well-intentioned evangelical churches I know, we don't cram Good Friday and Holy Saturday into one action-packed Easter Sunday morning. In the coming days we will mourn the death of Christ like we will mourn one of our own. We will sing around his body. The youth of the church will stay up all night to read the Psalter in the presence of his corpse. But nowhere in our theology do we see the "defeat" of Christ on the cross as a failure. It is his triumph, his glorification. Sorrow-joy-sorrow-joy! These are the emotions that hold themselves in an uncomfortable tension in my body until Pascha night/morning. The triumphal entry of Christ into Jerusalem is also a victorious funeral march, a march to his "glorious" and "life-giving death."