Palm Sunday thoughts

It's a grey, almost-rainy day in this part of NC. During both Masses at my church this morning, a cold wind was blowing while we were outside for the blessing of the palms and the processional. And yet, as much as I love beautiful sunny days, it seems almost appropriate to bring in Holy Week with a somber sky.

One of the things that I love about being a cradle Catholic is the sense of constancy; there is a rhythm to life that's based around the Church year, which has been the rhythm of my life too. And so, every Palm Sunday, I know that the Mass will start with joy, shouting "Hosanna! Hosanna in excelsis!" but will end on a sadder note-we know after the Gospel reading that what has begun today will bring us to Good Friday and its mournful Stations, veneration of the cross and communion service. But we know that there is hope, because Saturday night, we will celebrate Christ's rising from the dead and the catechumens will be brought into full communion with the Church, giving us all cause to celebrate.

This year, I'm singing with the choir and at our church, the choir takes the part of the crowd in the Gospel reading. Every year, I am struck at how hearing those words of the crowd ("Crucify him! Crucify him!") sound so harsh-much more so than reading them to oneself in the Scriptures. This year, though, I was one of the ones saying those words, calling out for the death of the Lord. I was brought to tears both times, thinking about how many times a day I do just that, but without saying those words aloud. The unkind thoughts and words, the selfish actions, the lack of attention to duty or to my prayers, the wasting of precious time that should be spent doing good things-all these are ways I cry out for Him to be crucified. But do I realize it? I don't think so.

My Lenten journey this year has helped me realize how often indeed I hurt the Lord. Trying to curb my unkind thoughts and words has been difficult and I've fallen a lot. At the end of the day, right before I go to sleep, I've been going over my day in my mind; I've started saying an Act of Contrition because often times, the number of places I've fallen is shameful.

But Palm Sunday brings hope too, especially this year. Because I am seeing anew how much love God has for me, that He would send Jesus to die for someone who continually hurts Him. And I am thankful for the grace to see my faults and the grace to know God's love.