Crown of Thorns or Rally Cap?

As a child in parochial school, this was the worst week of the year. All of us knew how Jesus had entered Jerusalem on the back of a donkey on Palm Sunday and, by Friday, how He had been crucified. 

When you're a small kid, the 'but He rose from the dead and redeemed humanity' part of the Easter week observances sailed past you. Yes, you realized years later, it was the Passion and the Resurrection, much more so than the Virgin Birth, that made you a Christian and a Catholic, but when you're eight, all you're thinking about is the spikes driven through your outstretched palms. And how the same crowd who loved Him on Sunday could hate Him by Friday.

This year's Palm Sunday comes at a point in the calendar where any form of respite is welcome. Maybe it's just me, but probably not; it's been a long and hard winter. Things have been going south for some time now at the personal, professional, medical, and philosophical levels. 

I think all of us who had thought we were putting away a little something every paycheck for 'that next adventure' got some pretty unpleasant bumps and bruises by the time all the spinning wheels and flashing lights had ceased and desisted (or was it just passed?). 

This might be the week we learn something from the New Testament- whether you are a Child of the Book or not. Not just in our nation, or region, or state, or city, but actually like a pandemic spreading across the globe and around the world, depression and despair are clouding the horizon and changing (and not for the better) the lives of millions and billions of our fellow travelers.

It's so easy to mourn what we've lost or no longer have or will never again possess. It's harder to turn the ball cap inside out and put it back on our head, step back into the batter's box, square our shoulders, and wait on the next pitch, especially since we've been dusted a couple of times so far by this pitcher. And many of us have it good; for the majority of the planet, not as well off as we were, all of the calamity and chaos have made an intolerable situation even more so.

But look around. Maybe not too much farther north than here in Norwich, Connecticut, but the trees have a vague and soft red glow on their branch tips--something's getting ready to happen. Crocuses are coming up, and more birds are about than we've seen in months. The days are getting longer, not just feeling longer. 

Yeah, we've got a boxcar of worry to manage, but we have these clever little thumbs and huge brains to help us wrestle this stuff to a standstill. And, for those of us who can read, we know because we've seen the records of the past, we've had all of this happen before. Maybe not in our lifetimes, but in those of our parents and grandparents.

The sun came up this morning, as it has for no one knows how many years, and will, in all likelihood, come up again tomorrow. The same folks who were lining the streets to welcome the Next Big Thing have gone home, but that doesn't mean we have to leave or content ourselves with what might have been. 

We're a species that dusts itself off and gets back in the race because we don't know how to NOT do that, so square those shoulders, dig in a little bit, and sit dead on red. We don't need to hit homers. Right now, we need to get a couple of guys on base and play small ball. Here, put this cap on- it ain't over by a long shot.
-bill kenny

Some Settling of Contents Can Occur

These started out as some of my thoughts (or what passes for such) I've offered in years past and am so doing again. Some things like wine improve with age; others, like sweat socks, not so much. I'll leave it for you to decide because you always do.

I used to be a Roman Catholic--actually, that's far less than accurate or truthful. It's like saying I used to be an alcoholic. Those two statements have no past tense or pretense (my attempt at a literary joke); they just are and in this case, I am both.

The jaded, faded imitation of a person I am looks at his faith as a child and finds it easy to mock the boy on his way to manhood, but also envies him and the beliefs he had. When I threw the faith of my fathers into the ocean of doubt, I had nothing to hold onto in its place as I never had the courage of my own convictions and could not develop any trust in those of any other.

Today is Easter Sunday the most important feast in the Christian liturgical calendar and (pardon my pseudo-theological seminary sermon) precipitant of the article of faith that makes us Christian if that's indeed what we are. Christmas gets the lion's share of press, carols, cards, shouted best wishes at one another, and window dressing. Christmas gets marketing help from every wholesaler and retailer imaginable and why not? Christmas is a lovely story, wonderfully symbolic and simply beautiful if you don't want to think too much about it.

Take a look at today in the New Testament of your choice and foreboding's afoot in every verse of every version of the events leading to Easter (those, by the way, are the versions and verses of my choice). And in one of the most ironic choices of terms associated with any aspect of Jesus Christ, is Good Friday, which marks His Crucifixion and Death (I went back and made the "h" a capital, not because there's hope for me but out of fear that there is no hope). And as you read the accounts, let's face it, the events of that day are absolutely horrible.

The crowd, the occupying forces, everyone, it seems has abandoned the Son of God who is sentenced to die (I'd say 'murdered' but some might argue the state does not murder) in an extraordinarily horrible manner. And yet.

It is both that death by Crucifixion but more importantly the belief in the Resurrection which followed that so many commemorate today that's the defining event for every Christian, even the ones who seem more like Simon Peter than even they should ever admit in this life.  I want you to remember this. Come on, try to remember.
-bill kenny 

The Difference between Roman and Romance

I used to be a Catholic; actually, that's less than accurate. It's like saying I used to be a frighteningly flawed human being. Both of those statements have no past tense, or pretense (literary joke)-they just are and in this case, I am both.

The jaded, faded imitation of a person I am looks at his faith as a child and finds it easy to mock the boy on his way to manhood, but also envies him the beliefs that he had. When I threw the faith of my fathers into the ocean of doubt, I had nothing to hold onto in its place as I never had the courage of my own convictions and could not trust those of any other.

Today is Easter Sunday the most important feast in the Christian liturgical calendar and (pardon my pseudo-theological seminary sermon) precipitant of the article of faith that makes us Christian if that's indeed what we are.

Christmas gets a lot of press, songs, cards, and window decorations, and don't look for a Macy's Day Parade to mark the start or end of Lent because that's not happening. In these parts, Christmas gets marketing help from every wholesaler and retailer imaginable, and why not? Christmas is a lovely story, wonderfully symbolic and simply beautiful if you don't want to think too much about it.

Take a look today at the New Testament of your choice and the foreboding afoot in every verse of every version about the events leading to Easter (those are the versions of my choice). And in one of the most ironic choices of terms associated with any aspect of Jesus Christ, is Good Friday, which marks His Crucifixion and Death (I went back and made the "h" a capital, not because there's hope for me but out of fear that there is no hope).

And as you read the accounts, let's face it, the events of that day are absolutely horrible. The crowd, the occupying forces, everyone, it seems has abandoned the Son of God who is sentenced to die (I'd say 'murdered' but some might argue the state does not murder) in an extraordinarily, excruciating manner.

And it is both that death by Crucifixion and more importantly the belief in the Resurrection that so many commemorate today which is the defining event for every Christian, even the ones who seem more like Simon Peter than even they could ever admit in this life.  I want you to remember this. Come on, try to remember.
-bill kenny