Guest post by Valerie Boyer
I love Holy Week, it is my favorite liturgical holiday. So naturally, I had some thoughts pre-written, based on where/what I thought I would be during this time of the year. Let’s all laugh together now because on this Palm Sunday, in the time of the Rona, I’m reminded that “time is filled with swift transition.”
Usually, my Palm Sunday would be spent celebrating the parade on a stolen donkey into a crime-ridden town with some shady people. The parade in the middle of such foolery, was an act of resistance, and frankly sounds kind of fun and exhilarating! A parade that I’ve personallyI always considered as Jesus’ official “Coming Out As Messiah” party! This year though, in the age of Da Rona, can we really celebrate a coming out? In the words of Bblack grandparents around the world “Coming out?!?! Out where?!?! Where you goin’? You betta come out dat’ there couch and saddown” somewhere.”
With my usual traditions in tatters from the whims of a global pandemic, I can’t even explain the amount of anxiety that I am currently navigating through. Every day, I think of how someone else has been affected by this, from the business owners all the way to the sex workers. I take medicine for anxiety, unashamedly so, because I believe in God’s healing power, and the fact that some chemical compounds deposited into the creation by the creator, when combined correctly serve as healing power, only if God gives them permission to, is a miracle. However due to recent health challenges, I’ve not had access to them, so I’m feeling these things deeply, and sometimes overwhelmingly so.
I thought my Palm Sunday was ruined this year, until I remembered that this wasn’t just about Jesus, a prophecy fulfilling messiah, who was coming out. This is also a story about Jesus, who’s “coming IN.”
The story talks about the questionably ethics of stealing a donkey, rolling into a city, with some people crying “Hosanna!” throwing palms, their good clothes, cloaks, and assorted whatnot at the feet of Jesus. He’s clearly The Man here. Simultaneously, in Matthew’s account, there are people asking, “who is this guy?”, and in true Black fashion, the response is “oh you know that’s the prophet from Nazareth of Galilee,” which was code for “he from the southside, ‘round the way.” If we’re honest, we all know of a Southside, and a “round the way.” And, all things considered? What an unorthodox way to show up. He couldn’t have his boys take a horse, or camel, or something? Of course not. You know he’s alway been down to earth in that way. Get it? Down to earth?
Corny Dad jokes aside, the way the story is told, we know who was at the parade, but we don’t talk about who isn’t there. Maybe the paralyzed person he’d deal with later on the week didn’t make it to the parade. Maybe those children he’d see on Tuesday, didn’t make it to the parade. Maybe someone being abused, was stuck in the house. Maybe the walk was too far for the folks on the other side of town. Maybe, someone didn’t feel too good, and decided to keep their sickness to themselves, and didn’t make it. Maybe someone was on their cycle, and couldn’t come. There are so many valid reasons that people wouldn’t make it to the parade, but Jesus still comes anyway. Jesus, come in, to their territory, their world, their atmosphere. And no it isn’t necessarily in the age of Da Rona, but is just as evil. It is just as crazy. It is just as “life-shifting” of a time as ever, and Jesus comes into them.
I want my palms to do my arts & crafts today, want to hug my people, and want to gossip about the man from the “southside, round the way”. But where I take some semblance of comfort is knowing, that I don’t have to come out, for Jesus to come in. Lent got me ready for this, and I didn’t even know it until today. Every time I’ve hopped on fb messenger, or exchanged check-ins via text, that was Jesus coming in for me. Every time I’ve exercised less than I should, and ate more ice cream than any human should, that was Jesus coming in? Close enough. Every time I’ve danced to a live stream in the social media living room, Jesus came in. Every time I’ve felt alone, left out, the weight of my singleness, and all of these feelings of hopelessness, like Jerusalem, I believe that Jesus came in. And what has happened as a result of that, is that I am coming into myself. And what a gift, to realize before Jesus could ever come out, he had to come in. My celebration for Palm Sunday this year, in the age of Da Rona, is for a Jesus, who will come in! And my prayer is for all of us, is for the people who will come into ourselves.
To the Jesus who comes in, we give thanks. See y’all tomorrow. It’s Holy/Hell week, and the cross soon come.
Born and raised in Galveston, TX, curated at Howard University, journeying to Detroit, and now Columbus, OH, Valerie has spent her life through the lens of preaching, praying, poetry and activism. Today is no different. Her love for her God, family, community, both locally and global fuels her passion for all that she does. Her favorite quote is “when life gives you lemonade, sprinkle black girl magic, make apple juice, and leave people wondering how it happened.”
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