Monthly Archives: April 2007

I write about a lot of things.  Some political, some spiritual, some personal.  I just love to write. And, like all writers, when I let anyone ‘in’ to read what I write, I risk rejection.  Sometimes I am even judged, often harshly, simply for what I think.

I have come to realize that most judgements come from misunderstanding.  We have family members read stuff I write about God, and they instantly assume I am (or would, given the chance) judge them for their supposed sinful lifestyle.  They automatically decide that I think (or that Gaylon and I think) that we are better than them.

When I was growing up, my father was wealthy.  We lived in a nice house, we had a swimming pool in the backyard, and my mother drove a Cadillac.  I learned quickly not to let people know that right away.  I tried very hard to get people to know me based on just me.  Not what I had.  Because as soon as they knew what I had, I was instantly labeled a ‘rich b*tch’.  That label had nothing to do with me, it had to do with their judgement of me.

That is something that has baffled me all my life.  How is it, when somebody feels inferior to someone else, they have to tear the other person down?  When somebody is challenged or convicted by something someone else thinks, says, or writes, they feel the need to attack that person, at least in the privacy of their own mind?

I am guilty, too.  I have often felt judged by others who (I thought) were better than me.  Those people probably didn’t even know my name!  And if they did know who I was, I have discovered that usually they never considered whether or not anyone was ‘better’. Yet I had spent my time and energy being angry at them for nothing!  It was my own insecurities getting the best of me.

So, now I’m 40 years old.  And I have come to care a lot less about how people (family included) feel about me.  I stand in judgement of no one.  How could I?  It is my dearest prayer and hope that God will go easy on me when the time comes!  Yet the misunderstanding persists that we think we’re better because we homeschool, or because our son is going to college, or because we are Christians, or because we have a nice house.  Nothing could be farther from the truth!  But I am no longer a teenager, and I no longer feel the need to hide the things I think, to hide who I am.

I am well aware that I live in a world that often disagrees with me.  A world that is usually not what I would have it to be. (I would be really happy to wake up someday in the middle of a Norman Rockwell painting!) I have family members and friends who do all sorts of stuff, and believe all sorts of stuff that I disagree with.  But I don’t judge them.  I love them very much.  I have dear friends and family members who are alcoholics, who use drugs, who are gay, who have had abortions, who are non-Christian (including some Pagans), who are politically opposed to many of the things I hold dear.  But these are GOOD people, who I love and care about deeply.  I still want relationships with them.

I am not perfect, and I don’t think I ever will be.  I strive to be real.  And I know that everyone is in a different place, and I think that’s the beautiful thing about life.  That’s what makes it interesting. If everyone believed and thought what I do, then that would be boring. I write what I write because it’s what is on my mind at that time, not because I think I’m better than anyone else!

I guess the irony here is that those who think I am judging them, and get bent out of shape about it, are unaware that they are judging me! And I can’t change how people feel or think, but I can write about it.

On April 11th, the Senate passed S.5, with a vote of 63 to 34. "S.5" is the alpha-numerical name given to the "Stem Cell Research Enhancement Act of 2007".  The basic summary of the bill is this: "Amends the Public Health Service Act to require the Secretary of Health and Human Services to conduct and support research that utilizes human embryonic stem cells that meet the following ethical requirements: (1) the stem cells were derived from human embryos donated from in vitro fertilization clinics for the purpose of fertility treatment and were in excess of the needs of the individuals seeking such treatment ; (2) the embryos would never be implanted in a woman and would otherwise be discarded; and (3) such individuals donate the embryos with written informed consent and receive no financial or other inducements."

There are a lot of hopes and dreams riding on stem cell research.  We’ve all seen footage of Christopher Reeve and Michael J. Fox begging us to explore the possibilities these cells might provide for finding cures for diseases and conditions that until now, were just the stuff of dreams.  The political spin is that if we just have enough money to do enough research, then the lame will walk and the blind will see.  My mama always told me that if something sounds too good to be true, then it probably is!

Yesterday I read an article about Madame Curie on The My Hero Project.  Madame Curie (along with husband Pierre and friend, A. Henri Becquerel) won the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1903 for her discovery of radium. She discovered shortly after that the element in question was not pure radium, and in 1911, she was again awarded the Nobel Prize, this time in Chemistry, for isolating the pure radium. She was the first woman to be awarded a Nobel Prize.  Her discovery led to the invention of x-rays, in particular the portable x-ray machine.  She is also the mother of radiation therapy.  But what impressed me most about the article was the last paragraph:

"Great knowledge, however, is often a two-edged sword.  Without the work she did, we might not have many modern cancer treatments or atomic clocks, or even the computer you’re viewing this on. But through her work on radioactivity, she can also be thought of as the mother of the atomic bomb."

Perhaps the effects of embryonic stem cell research will have the same far-reaching mushroom effect of the atomic bomb.  Maybe we are not getting all the information. (We usually aren’t.)  There are a lot of myths about stem cell research that are propagated, leading us to believe that this is the magical key to regeneration, a fountain of youth, if you will.

I don’t fully understand why intelligent, reasonable, caring people would want to destroy embryos (also known as babies!) when there are so many other alternatives that harm no one.  Isn’t that the Hippocratic Oath, "First, do no harm"?  Killing embryos is "harm" in its broadest sense.  But beyond that, can embryonic cells do harm to their recipients?  Consider this:

"The emerging truth in the lab is that pluripotent stem cells are hard to rein in.  The potential that they would explode into a cancerous mass after a stem cell transplant might turn out to be the Pandora’s Box of stem cell research."  (Ethicist Glen McGee of Univ. of Pennsylvania, quoted in E. Jonietz, "Innovation: Sourcing Stem Cells" Technology Review, January/February 2001, p. 32)

This concern is being borne out by science.  A significant number of embryonic stem cells become cancerous.  Brian Butcher, a research professor at Tulane University Health Sciences Center, has this to say: "We’re not against stem-cell research of any kind," said Butcher. "But we think there are advantages to using adult stem cells. For example, with embryonic stem cells, a significant number become cancer cells, so the cure could be worse than the disease. And they can be very difficult to grow, while adult stem cells are very easy to grow."  (Read Entire Article)

Fools rush in.  I think we need to be very careful about what we’re doing, and we need to be very specific about what works, and what doesn’t work.  In the small amount of research I’ve done on the subject I’ve learned that stem cell research has great and wondrous potential.  But it is in its infancy, and the media muddies the waters.  Adult stem cells are easier and safer to use, and can be used just as many ways as embryonic stem cells.  So WHY are we so determined to destroy embryos?  I see so many bumper stickers on the highway that promote peace, and condemn the war in Iraq.  They communicate that killing isn’t the way to stop the killing.  So why don’t they understand that embryonic stem cell use is just more killing?  More violence?

It’s hard not to get swept up in the media hype about a magical cure-all.  But we owe it to ourselves and to future generations to make sure we slow down long enough to find the truth.

Easter was wonderful.  I didn’t get the opportunity to post anything for the celebration itself, which I regret, but it was wonderful.  We attended the Easter Vigil Mass, and some friends came along.  Even though it is the longest Mass of the Liturgical Year, they all seemed to enjoy it very much.  (Okay, one of Kendall’s friends was mostly fascinated at the discovery that we use real wine for communion, but other than that. . .) It is an awesome thing to me, how much fulfillment and peace we all get from attending such an awesome service.  The Church has so much to offer, and we take advantage of so little.

We have had a devastating cold snap, which has killed almost all of the leaves on the trees, and the apple crops and strawberry crops were destroyed.  It has been difficult for me, personally, because I feel such a surge of hope and excitement when the leaves start to come out in the Spring.  It is really disheartening to look outside and see death again.  I am trusting that this is not going to last, that the trees will bear more beautiful green leaves, and soon.

Kendall flew to Ohio today to spend some time with a close friend in Seminary up there.  (Pontifical College Josephinum) He called to check in, and said the campus and everything there is truly beautiful.  Everyone has given him a really warm welcome, and he is looking forward to the rest of his stay.

Alex will be starting Driver’s Ed next Thursday.  Yes, he really is old enough.  No, we’re really not ready for him to be driving, but he is excited and ready enough to make up for the rest of us!  He is taller than me now, and his voice has changed, and he gets love letters from girls now.  So I guess it’s time.  *sigh*

Faith is ready for camp.  Camp doesn’t start until June, but she’s ready to buy a trunk and start packing her bags! I am glad she’s excited.  She will be going to the sister camp of the all-boy camp Alex went to last summer, and he will also be returning.  They will be gone for two weeks!  Maybe that will be enough time to clean their bedrooms??

On a very sad note:  my computer died.  I had to take it in today to be fixed, and am not sure when I will see it again.  I am embarrassingly dependent on my computer, and to my great dismay, my whole house seems empty and barren without it.  (My mother is starting to make noises about how this is a good thing, but I’m ignoring her!!)  Obviously, I have computer and internet access, via Gaylon’s computer (else I would not be able to type out this post!) but I really need my own computer back, in order to be able to finish working on the Henderson County Homeschool Association’s Yearbook.  My computer has the necessary memory, etc. to be able to handle large amounts of graphics, so I really don’t want to even try to load all of that stuff onto anyone else’s computer.

So, instead of spending time on my computer doing all the mindless things I love and can get so lost in, I have been crocheting another afghan.  This one has several different stitches in it, and is much more challenging than anything I’ve made before.  Okay, I doubt anyone cares, really, but it makes me happy, and keeps my brain active.

Next on my list of things to give my attention to:  Alex will be confirmed on the 5th of next month, and we will be having a party for him that afternoon.  Then, on June 9th, Kendall will be graduating.  There will be a Graduation Mass with a reception following at the Basilica of St. Lawrence in Asheville.  And, of course, we will be having a party for him that evening.  So, lots of things to do, lots of things to think about and plan.  I think that means life is good!

Last night, we celebrated the Mass of The Lord’s Supper.  It is a beautiful service, with poignant readings and so much symbolism.  I love that Mass, and look forward to it every year.  It also is the beginning of the Easter Triduum, in which we begin to walk with Jesus toward the Cross.

Today, my daughter and I were able to attend the Liturgy of The Lord’s Passion at 3:00, the hour Jesus died on the cross.  It is also a beautiful service, but in a very different way. The priest’s vestments were blood red, in stark contrast to the empty altar, which was stripped down after last night’s mass.  There was no Liturgy of the Eucharist, and the Gospel reading is the longest of the Liturgical Year. 

And every time I hear the readings (or read them myself at home) about Jesus’ Agony in the Garden, the Crowning With Thorns, The Scourging, The Carrying of the Cross up the hill to Golgotha, and The Crucifixion, I cannot help but see these things in my mind.  I imagine the terror and anger the apostles must have felt when the guards, with lanterns and torches and swords, came to Gethsemane to arrest Jesus.  He knew they were coming, but it was quite a shock to them.  I imagine how it must have felt to be standing there in the garden, watching them lead Him off.  They must have felt very empty.

Some of them followed at a distance.  We read about Peter’s triple betrayal, and his agonizing remorse when he realized what he’d done.  I find the contrast between Peter’s betrayal and Judas’ betrayal interesting.  Both regretted their decisions, both realized their failures.  Judas committed suicide, sure that there was no redemption to be found for him.  Peter, on the other hand, waited.  He might not have been sure what he was waiting for, but he waited in the Upper Room with the others.  And as soon as he heard that Jesus’ tomb was empty, he ran as fast as he could to see for himself.  He couldn’t wait to see Jesus again.  And when he finally did see Him again in the Upper Room, Peter’s joy was unbounded.  He knew and understood Jesus well enough to know that Jesus would forgive him.  He probably had some doubts, but nothing that would stand in the way of him finding his risen Lord.  But that night at the fire, outside the gates, he must have felt devastatingly empty.

And how Mary must have felt, when she saw her beloved and only Son, barely recognizable from the beatings he’d endured, struggling up the hill under the weight of that cross.  Empty and helpless probably can’t even begin to describe her sorrow.  Yet she followed him up that hill, and stood beside him beneath the cross.

There was a small gathering of women at the cross that day, along with St. John.  They all had to have felt a loss greater than any ever known before or since.  Their God was truly dead.  Now what?  So, they clung to each other in their emptiness, lest they be consumed by it.

Yet it was emptiness that, three days later, brought indescribable joy to them.  The emptiness of the tomb filled their hearts beyond anything they had dared to hope or imagine, even in the silence of their own hearts.  We, too, feel emptiness sometimes.  There are so many times when our own betrayals cause us to question if God can ever really forgive us, if He still has love enough left for us.  We can rest assured, even though it is no more understandable today than it was almost 2,000 years ago, that that empty tomb will fill us to overflowing.

Tomorrow we begin the Easter Triduum, and Lent comes to its close.  The whole point of Lent is to repent, to look inward and reconcile ourselves to the Savior who was willing to undergo brutality beyond description, just so we could be happy and free.  Yes, of course it was all about forgiveness of sins, and life eternal with the Father in Heaven.  But upon closer examination, the bottom line of all of that is happiness and freedom.  For eternity.

The older I get (and saying things like that is probably a sure sign that I really am getting older) the more I realize how much suffering there is around me.  As a child, I was oblivious to the suffering of others.  As a teen and even as a young adult, unless it directly affected me, I still wasn’t terribly aware of what those around me were going through.

But the past few years have been transformational for me, to say the least.  I have watched my friends go through utter agony with stepchildren, in-laws, homicidal spouses, teen children rebelling, divorce, and more.  I myself have walked through the deaths of my father-in-law and my own father, the death of several beloved pets, a Category 3 hurricane on a small island, the alcoholism of a close family member, a battle with the IRS, financial insecurity, and, oh yeah, our house burned down.  There are a couple other things I won’t go into here. So I have learned a few things about suffering.

The first thing I have learned is that Job’s friends were no different than many folks today.  The minute someone seems to be experiencing difficulties, well-meaning friends tell them to pray harder, pray more, have more faith.  Well, on the surface, that’s all good advice.  But when someone has screamed out to God until they can’t utter another word, then I honestly don’t think "pray harder" is the ticket. As far as having more faith, well, most people wouldn’t be praying their hearts out to God if they didn’t believe!

For example, a precious friend of mine recently went through a somewhat nasty divorce.  Now, this woman is a powerful, passionate, ’sold-out’ woman of God.  She loves the Lord with all of her being.  But the unfaithfulness and violence of a spouse will cause anyone agony, regardless of their level of faith.  She called me, desperate for someone to just listen to her, without passing judgment.  She had been told by several close friends from her church that she just wasn’t praying and believing hard enough!!!  So I listened, and then I gently explained to her the Catholic view of suffering.

Catholics do not view suffering as a curse, but as a blessing.  As an opportunity to unite our lives with that of our Lord and Savior, and offer it up to God.  We believe in embracing our pain, knowing that any pain or suffering we may endure in our lifetime cannot possibly compare to that of Jesus dying on the cross.  We offer it up for ourselves, we offer it up for others.  We find meaning in suffering.  It is our opportunity to ‘take up our cross’.  Now, we’re not masochists!!  But we do understand that it really does rain on the just and the unjust alike, and we don’t find it necessary to question the quality of our prayer life or our salvation with every affliction.

My friend was amazed.  This was the first time she’d ever heard this, and it was the first comforting thing anyone had said to her.  And I think that’s the problem with American theology.  We want to believe in a God who will bless us with all good things, if we just believe hard enough.  We want our salvation handed to us on a silver platter, as it were. 

God could have done that.  He could have just said ‘Hey, look at all those prayerful people down there.  I think I’ll just make it all okay.’  But instead, for reasons we may not fully understand until we get to Heaven, he chose to offer up his only Son on a cross.  He chose suffering to save us.  And I think that’s really important.  God never promised us financial prosperity, or emotional bliss, or perfect health.  He promised us Heaven, and within that promise, we are guaranteed suffering. But only for a while, and He is always there with us in those times of darkness.  We are never alone.

So, as we enter this Easter Triduum, we will celebrate the Passover Supper of the Lord, and we will meditate on his Passion as he ascended the hill to Calvary.  We will, as best we can as mere mortals, walk with Him on His way to the Cross.  And if we pay close attention, we will come to understand that our suffering has meaning, because His suffering had meaning.  We will find joy in His Passion, joy that will be consummated on Easter, as we celebrate His resurrection from the dead, His victory over sin.  We will be reminded that happiness and freedom truly are ours, if we only unite ourselves with Him, both suffering Paschal Lamb and Glorious Resurrected King.

It is not without great significance that the Scripture for Monday of Holy Week is actually about the events of the day before Holy Week began. In fact, in the Greek Church they actually have a specific celebration for this, calling it “Lazarus Day”.

St. John tells us that six days before the Passover, “Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus was, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. They gave a dinner for him there, and Martha served, while Lazarus was one of those reclining at table with him. Mary took a liter of costly perfumed oil made from genuine aromatic nard and anointed the feet of Jesus and dried them with her hair; the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil.” (John 12:1-3)

We can fill in some of the blanks from the Gospels of St. Matthew 26:6-13 and St. Mark 14:1-9. St. Matthew tells us that they were at the house of “Simon the Leper”. (Wow! Dining with lepers. . .Jesus was truly the first radical, non-conformist!) Matthew does not name the woman, but he gives us more information about the jar. He tells us it was an “alabaster jar of perfumed oil, costly genuine spikenard”. St. Mark also fails to provide the woman’s name, but he also describes her as coming with “an alabaster jar of perfumed oil, costly genuine spikenard.”

Okay. . .there’s a lot going on here, even before Judas starts to feign indignation at her wasteful use of something so expensive. First of all, try to imagine yourself sitting around the table with friends. Everyone is laughing and talking, waiting for the food to be set on the table. It is a fun, relaxing time. Then, for no apparent reason, someone comes up to your guest of honor and pours oil on him! And as if that wasn’t enough, the whole house then reeked of it. I have no doubt that this was not a common occurrence, and that everyone present, with the exception of Jesus, was shocked. And they said so.

But Jesus was not shocked. He didn’t seem perturbed in the least, and the way I read it, He seemed to be pleased with her act. He told them she was anointing him for burial. This probably seemed a little odd to them, since he was quite obviously alive and well, and didn’t seem to be in any imminent need of burial. Yet the woman, who John names as Mary, seemed to know. Perhaps the Holy Spirit gave her some sort of foreknowledge of the events of the coming week. Because, of all the oils used to anoint someone for burial, it is no accident, in my opinion, that she chose Spikenard.

Spikenard is an aromatic rhizome. (A rhizome is a type of plant stem that grows underground and shoots off roots, like a tuber, or bamboo). So it’s not a flower, or an herb. It’s a root, of sorts. And it gets even more interesting to me that the botanical name for Spikenard (Nardostachys Jatamansi DC) has its roots in the Hindu word “Jatamansi”, which means “lock of hair”. I think that’s particularly significant in light of Mary drying his feet with her hair.

Spikenard is traditionally used to calm the nerves, promote awareness, and strengthen the mind. It was even sometimes used to treat hysteria. I know Jesus was God, but he was also Man. He probably really appreciated being anointed with an oil that had a calming effect. Undoubtedly, considering that we are told that the entire house was filled with the smell of the oil, it had a calming effect on everyone else present, as well. (Okay, Judas Iscariot was probably the exception here. He was probably already cranky about having to dine with a leper. He had to have been experiencing the beginnings of some sort of paranoid schizophrenic break about his impending betrayal. The oil was probably just one more bur under his saddle at that point.)

But Jesus not only took it all in stride, He made it a point to tell them that her act of love would always be remembered, wherever the story would be told. It was greatly significant to Him.

But what about Lazarus? Well, his sister Martha was preparing the food that night. And, their sister Mary (who had a tendency to sneak out of the kitchen and hang out with Jesus whenever the opportunity arose) seems to be the one with the Spikenard. But we have no record of Lazarus reprimanding his sister for her bold act. We are simply told he was one of those reclining at table. What we do know is that a large crowd of Jews had assembled, not just to see Jesus, but also to see Lazarus, since he was so recently raised from the dead. Apparently, Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead got a lot of people’s attention, and they were turning away from the chief priests and believing in Jesus. And, from what St. John tells us, the chief priests (never men to leave any stone unturned) were plotting to kill Lazarus as well as Jesus, because of all the Jews who were becoming believers!

Jesus was well aware of all the drama unfolding around him, even before the Triumphal Entry of the next day. He knew he was going to die before the week was up. He knew how agonizing and brutal his death would be. He knew that his role had shifted from “Good Shepherd” to “Sacrificial Lamb”. There are a lot of things he might have done to prepare himself. He chose to have dinner with friends before crossing his Rubicon into Jerusalem.

Today is Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week, the most sacred week of the Liturgical Year for Christians.  For anyone who is unfamiliar with the feast, it is the remberance of Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem, riding on a donkey, just a few short days before His Passion.  And everyone seemed to know he was coming.  They were waiting on him, and they were cheering him on.  The Bible tells us they waved palm leaves and laid their cloaks on the ground.  This was a reception fit for a king! 

I’ve always thought it was such a bizarre paradox that the same crowd that welcomed him with such enthusiasm, singing "Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord!" would, only five short days later turn on him like rabid dogs and riot for his execution, screaming "Crucify Him!"  He knew they would turn, He knew what was coming.  He knew the Pharisees and Saducees were plotting to kill him.  He knew Jerusalem was their stronghold.  But he rode in brilliantly in spite of them all.  After all, the Passover was coming, and there can be no Passover without the sacrificial Lamb.

So, on Palm Sunday, we celebrate Jesus’ Triumphal Entry.  We hand out palm leaves, and we read the Scriptures that remind us of that day.  And, having read the end of the book, we look forward, as Jesus must have, to what is to come: Good Friday, and the Resurrection.

Now, I’ve been told that Palm Sunday is one of those dread "traditions of men", and that we should not treat it any differently than any other Sunday.  Holy Week is no holier than any other week. This was told to me by the same bunch of folks who are all about being a "New Testament, Acts of the Apostles Church".  In other words, they want to do everything like the early Christians did.  I applaud that plan!  And, because I love Palm Sunday and Holy Week, and most of all, Easter Sunday, I am encouraged to know that the early Christians did, too.

We don’t know for certain what they did the very next Passover after Jesus’ death and resurrection, but we can guess, based on very ancient accounts, that they celebrated it much as we do today.  At the end of the 4th Century, a pilgrim to Jerusalem named AEtheria gives an account of the events in Jerusalem that week, which was referred to as the "Great Week".  They commemorated Christ’s triumphal entry into the city with great crowds, including babies, assembling on the Mount of Olives.  They sang hymns, antiphons, and readings (this is referred to today as ‘liturgy’) then they returned to Jerusalem, escorting the bishop, and bearing palms and branches of olives before him.  They held special services in addition to the usual ones.  That Thursday (Maundy, or Holy Thursday) everyone had Communion, then again the people went to the Mount of Olives to commemorate with readings and hymns the agony of Christ in the garden and His arrest.  They stayed all night, returning to the city at dawn.

Friday, the commemoration continued.  In particulare before midday they venerated the relic of the True Cross.  For three hours after midday another crowded service was held in commemoration of the Passion of Christ, at which, it is recorded, the sobs and lamentations of the people exceeded all description.  In spite of the exhaustion they must have been feeling, a vigil was maintained by the younger and stronger of the clergy and by some of the laity.  Then, on Saturday evening, they celebrated the great paschal vigil in the evening, with the baptism of children and adult converts.  Today, we call this service the Easter Vigil.

But AEtheria implies that this Eastern Christian celebration was already familiar to her in the Western Church.  She wrote her account in approximately 388 A.D.  However, we can be fairly sure that the observance of Holy Week as a special, sacred event was probably much older than even that.  In 329 A.D., Athanasius of Alexandria talks about the severe fast maintained during "those six holy and great days (preceding Easter Sunday) which are the symbol of the creation of the world."  Again, in 331 A.D. Athanasius writes that "We begin the holy week of the pasch on the tenth of Pharmuthi in which we should observe more prolonged prayers and fastings and watchings, that we may be enabled to anoint our lintels with the precious blood and so escape the destroyer."  He is, of course, referring to the Passover. Dionysius of Alexandria (circa 260 A.D.)also talks of people going without food for the whole six days.

I can only conclude that Holy Week was a pretty big thing in the "Early Church".  As for "traditions of men", well, those traditions were really important to them.  You see, there was no Bible at that point.  The Bible was not compiled into a single collection of books until 393 A.D.  It was not confirmed and made ‘official’ until 397 A.D. They had a lot of writings that they used in their services or liturgies, but no "Bible", no Canon of Scripture.  So they did what their predecessors taught them to do.  (And their predecssors had been taught directly from the apostles themselves!) And it was beautiful, and it was sincere, and it was real.  And some of us still do it today.

(And speaking of traditions, here is a fun one:  traditionally it was believed that Jesus ate figs after His entry into Jerusalem!  So, maybe he liked figs after all!)

Anyway, I think so many modern Christians miss out on the experience of uniting their hearts and lives with the final days of Jesus’ life.  We want to skip the ‘bad stuff’ and rush on to the Resurrection.  But the Resurrection would not have happened had there not been a sacrificial Lamb.  Just like the Israelites would not have gained their salvation without the sacrificial, unblemished lamb, so we too, must have our Lamb.  And we cannot, we must not, ignore the sacrifice.

So, this is the beginning of Holy Week.  A time to really prepare our hearts to receive the Lamb of God, to really look inside, and unite ourselves with our Savior.  Palm Sunday is a joyful beginning, and there will be an even more joyous ending next Sunday, on Easter.  But first, there must be the sacrifice.

(Historical Source: New Advent)