Palm Sunday 2010

Holy Week has arrived, catching me a little unawares because I'm still unaccustomed to following the liturgical calendar in our domestic church, as the Catholic Church teaches every family is. Late Saturday and at the crack of dawn Sunday, I was online looking at gorgeous blogs of other homeschooling families with their myriad crafty ideas and prayer suggestions for how to teach children about the Passion.

Before John came downstairs this morning, I had three books of children's Bible stories out, each bookmarked with the story of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem. John ate his breakfast, then saw me casually sitting down with these books and he fell for my lure: "What are those books, Mama? Will you read to me?"

So, we read about Jesus' entry into Jerusalem, although I confess frustration that John didn't seem to be paying attention and he asked me to read him other Bible stories, which I did.

However, when we got to Mass, what little reading and chatting we did paid off. I also reflected on how Mother Church knows that her children (of all ages) need "props"--tactile and visual elements--to remember and understand special solemnities. Lex orendi, lex credendi. John's eyes bugged out to see hundreds of people gathering outside our church, holding palm fronds, ready to process. "Can we hold palm branches? Maybe we can ask somebody for permission!" With what joy John held his palm frond high in the air and we whispered back and forth about how the people in Jerusalem, children included, did the same thing as this when Jesus arrived on the baby donkey. Then we began processing and the choir began singing and I pointed out to John, "Look! There's that unusual word again: Hosanna!" Learning about Hosanna ("God, save us") earlier that morning had led to yet another of John's tough questions for Mama: "God, save us from what?" (And following was our first discussion of heaven and hell . . .)

During Mass, I was absolutely delighted to have John asking questions, indicating for the first time that he was listening to those zillions of words over the course of an hour I assumed he was tuning out (making me think of the teacher in "Charlie Brown"). When the first epistle of the Prophet Isaiah was read, John perked up: "Mama! A prophet! She said 'prophet'! Like the prophet Jonah! What is she talking about?" I told him he was right, had good ears, and he should listen more to hear what the Prophet Isaiah had said.

Then when the priest was giving the homily, he mentioned something about yelling. John tugged at me, "Now do we get to yell?" He'd been so hoping that we too could yell at today's Mass, the way that the people yelled Hosanna! when Jesus entered Jerusalem. Little Boy was disappointed to learn that he still could not yell.

Then during the Canon, John heard the name of John the Baptist and said, "John the Baptist! He's in my heart!" Yes, he is one of your patron saints, honey!


In the afternoon, we shrouded many of our holy images at home in black cloth (as I had no purple cloth handy). When I see the statues in our parish shrouded at this time of year, I miss seeing them, but I was quite startled to feel a real sadness in my heart to now look around our home at all these black shrouds. It feels like some good friends are gone! Or maybe even dead! I really had no idea how much comfort I take in the holy images with which we've decorated each room in our home.