Parade

Is there anyone who doesn't like a good parade? There is something electric about parades—the mass of people, the excitement and goodwill, the candy and toys being showered down while you wait, the decorated floats, and the endless golf carts streaming after one another. Perhaps golf carts are not your usual parade vehicle, but if you live anywhere near Peachtree City, Georgia you've seen the red, white, and blue bedecked golf carts streaming by in their hundreds for Fourth of July. As a member of my high school marching band I was part of many parades. I saw the organization and preparation that came before and the careful choreography needed to bring the event together.

In truth not all parades are happy affairs, but they are all curated events. In a parade, pageantry is on full display. Whether it is a miliary parade run by the state or the parade of the lawnmower brigade in Wilmore, Kentucky, the goal of a parade is to coordinate and project a particular vision of the world out to the world. Parades seek to create or strengthen an ethos, to embody a truth, like a charade that becomes real if lived out long enough. Nowhere is this more true than on Palm Sunday. As this Sunday in the church's calendar swings around again, we are confronted with a parade of those who sing praises to God on Sunday and shout for the crucifixion of Christ on Friday. It is no surprise. We know this story, but each year on one particular Sunday we are asked to live it, to embody it. Each of us is complicit in the fickle nature of those who praise God one day and deny God the next. Each of us celebrates the glory of Easter Sunday even as we need the cross of Friday. I encourage you to come this Sunday and gather outside the sanctuary. To grab a palm branch of your own and immerse yourself in the pageantry of a story that we know but often forget that we live within. This Sunday is the beginning of Holy Week. The cross is almost upon us. Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.