BYOP: Palm Sunday

There’s a wonderful Claymation movie called The Miracle Worker which follows the life of Jesus. During the Palm Sunday scene when Jesus is entering Jerusalem at the beginning of Holy week, the audience is placed in the shoes (or sandals) of Judas Iscariot, the one who would later sellout Jesus to the Pharisees, which would lead to Jesus’s Passion and death just a few days later. In this moment, we see what Judas sees. Whereas everyone sees a crowd holding palm tree leaves in their hands and Jesus humbly riding a lowly donkey, Judas sees a king atop a mighty steed leading an army of Jews to retake the Holy City from the alien Roman invaders. He sees Jesus with an angry war face. The palm tree leaves turn into swords of his compatriots. And he cannot help but think that this is the moment they have been waiting for since God had promised a Messiah so many generations ago. Indeed, this is what a lot of the Jews thought Jesus was going to do. Thus, being arrested, placed on a rigged trial, falsely accused of political upheaval, and ultimately being executed in a most humiliating fashion was a far different story than Judas thought was going to unfold.

It’s a bit hard for us to imagine Judas seeing the palms turn into swords. I think this is mainly because the palms we use in the United States are little on the wimpy side, to put it nicely. They’re flimsy, thin, and more like long blades of grass than actual palms. We pick them up on the way into church, unbearably holding on to them throughout mass, and then drop them off on the way out or take them home where they replace the previous year’s palms wedged behind picture frames or woven into little palm crosses. Oh yes, it’s very difficult to imagine that these blades of palm grass could become swords in the imagination.

Here in Madagascar, however, they use real palms. On my way to mass this morning, I was making my way along the dark streets because it was 5:30am, and I began to see people on the sidewalks with long palm leaves on the ground. There were enough other Catholics making their way to the churches who bought a palm from these street vendors to make me realize that here in Madagascar Palm Sunday is a BYOP; a Bring Your Own Palm. So I stopped, paid a women 1,000MGA ($0.25), and received a palm nearly 2.5ft long. It wasn’t like the frail and measly palms in the states. This was the real deal. It was thick, wide, and sturdy. If the palms at the first Palm Sunday were anything like these, then the scene in The Miracle Worker is very much plausible.

(That is a photo of what I call the Haggled Heart of Jesus because I haggled the street vendor down from a 50,000MGA price tag to 35,000MGA).

Anyways, I climbed my way up the mountain, walked through the beautifully decorated door of the church, and waited inside for mass to start (15min late). Unfortunately, I did not bring my phone with me. So I was unable to take any photos of the gorgeous floral arrangements they had in the sanctuary and front entrance. Like all Palm Sunday masses, it began in the back of the church where the priest blessed the palms. I was one of only a dozen people waiting in the church. As soon as the opening prayer was completed, a sea of Malagasy holding their palms rushed into the cathedral to fill the empty pews. I was, as usual, the only vazaha there; and I most certainly stuck out considering I was the tallest person by a comfortable 3in. After the church was filled to the brim, even the upper levels were fully occupied, the priest and nearly a dozen altar servers processed down the main aisle. The priest had his arm raised and swung it back and forth, the congregation succinctly mimicking his movements. There were all sorts of palms, most of them similar to the one I had purchased, but others as well. One of the religious sisters (nun) had what looked like an entire palm push in her hand.

Palm Sunday mass in Malagasy is no different than it is in America. There are the normal prayers, the multi-person reading of the Passion of Christ (although the congregation gets to sit for it and don’t have a speaking role), a long homily, and some incense and other symbolic items and prayers that draw our attention to the real reason Palm Sunday is an important day. That is, it is the beginning of Holy Week which marks the end of our 40-days of preparation for the Passion and Resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Other than those slight differences, there isn’t much that is blatantly different between mass here and mass in the Sates. It’s interesting for me because the Catholic Church (which literally means universal church) is an international faith shared by the faithful all over the world. Some places incorporate their own cultures into various parts of Catholic traditions like mass and other prayer services. Some places in West Africa include dance whereas in the Congo they incorporate traditional Congolese chant. Here in Madagascar, the music is much more upbeat than in many places in the States and often has a very island-like sound to it. Although I know exactly what is happening during mass (well, until they start announcements or add something new), the Malagasy truly do incorporate their unique culture and traditions into the Catholic faith. It is, in my opinion, a good example of cultural hybridity or synchronization where location cultures welcome the faith and synchronize its own practices within the truth of the faith. This has not always been done properly, such as in China and parts of Japan. But seeing it done well is always encouraging. To do it well is hard work and requires patience and understanding, virtues which are not common for the majority of humanity. That’s all I really have to say on the matter for now.

I’m off to the jungle tomorrow and will be on the coast until Easter. I’ve already written something for you that will be published automatically later this week. Enjoy your Palm Sunday and do not be afraid to dive into the mystery of this Holy Week. As always, know that I pray for you each morning. All I ask is that you do the same for me.

May God be praised.