Palm Sunday, Year C
This morning, I had the luxury of sitting among the faithful at Mass. One with them, shoulder to shoulder. Well, and of walking side by side with them and waving palm branches with them and not leading the service and not worrying about a single detail of the service.
Shame, the priest had his worries, I could see, and even more so the sisters who had charge of preparing the liturgy in the convent where I attended. I had asked them days before kindly not to come and grab me when they see me among the people, not to throw a holy cloak over me and make me concelebrate, because that’s where Father belongs. But not trusting completely, I arrived exactly on time and not a minute ahead, when I was sure the entrance procession of the three priests had already begun.
And it did my poor old soul very good. Sitting under the homily, as we say in my mother tongue, om onder die preek te sit. Where I belong, I thought, and smiled when I heard in the first reading, “to listen with a disciple’s ear”.
It gave me a sense of being among the crowds in the gospel, because now I could also read the part marked C, with the rest of the congregation. The one moment shouting, or rather, reading aloud, Hosanna! And the next, crucify him!
At the reading of the Passion from Luke, Father brought my wandering attention back, when he read the words of the Lord Jesus who said,
You are the men who have stood by me faithfully in my trials.
Of course, like everyone present I knew what would come later in the text with Peter’s words at the residence of the high priest. And off went the conversation in my head and heart.
Me?
Stood faithfully by you in your trials, Lord?
You must be speaking to sister, sitting here next to me. Look, she’s paying careful attention.
You are not speaking to me, yes?
Lord?
Well, maybe I have not always stood faithfully by you, maybe the odd time here and there.
Lord, are you not saying anything?
But you say, “you are the men who have stood by me faithfully in my trials”, who am I to dispute, Lord?
Lord!
…
From the front, Father’s voice shook me out of it:
Why are you asleep? Get up and pray not to be put to the test.
I wanted to ask Father there and then: Who, me? Of course he was reading the part of Jesus.
And suddenly feeling sheepish, I paid attention to the rest of the text. But for a moment I wished I was, I don’t know, maybe leading the service, then I would not have had these thoughts. Holy worries would have occupied me, taking me away from having this disciple’s ear.
Maybe sheepish is how I should feel, instead of confidently kissing the Lord in front of the others and thinking it is okay. Maybe having the disciple’s ear is a thing I should seek to have more, instead of declaring at the lectern from homily to homily in front of everyone, “Lord, I would be ready to go to prison with you, and to death.” Or when I am so busy working away for everyone to see, telling proudly, “Lord, there are two swords here now,” ready for action.
Maybe when sheepish, my disciple’s ear would be able to hear Jesus say, “That is enough. Leave off! That will do!” Maybe then I would see with my own eyes how He touches people and heals them.
Anyway, enough now. The Lord said so himself.
I wish for you a disciple’s ear and a sheepish feel throughout this week and a happy and blessed celebration of Easter.
Maybe I should stand at a distance next time, as Luke writes about all Jesus’ friends.
For to ‘sit under the homily’ is not comfortable, I confess.