|They'll be coming 'round the parking lot when they come...|
The rain and winds of the last week of March subsided, and April entered like a lamb. On Palm Sunday we began the service outdoors. Clutching our palm crosses, we marched around the block in symbolic emulation of Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem two thousand years ago.
New visitors are often in attendance, coincident with spring break. They could be seen glancing at each other in puzzlement: do we do this every week? No, just once a year. This isn't your grandmother's Episcopal Church where you stand, sit, and kneel, eyes fixed front, and don't deviate from the script in the Book of Common Prayer.
During Holy Week Christians remember the fleeting exultation of Palm Sunday, Jesus' betrayal by Judas, His abandonment, rigged execution, and astonishing triumph over death itself. From the highs to the lows to the ultimate high, it's a story that's hard to believe in an age where science rules more strongly than ever.
The fact that scientists have been shown to be fallible as other human beings and have changed their minds--even reversed their positions completely--should give pause to those who place their faith in science's direction. To believe or not is a choice, a gift that is nearly as great as life itself. In a world filled with portent and promise, choose wisely.