Yesterday, Palm Sunday, kicked off one of the most exciting weeks of the year -- Holy Week. I. Love. Holy Week. I was too busy yesterday to post about it, weaving baskets for the poor out of the palms I collected from the many Palm Sunday services I attended (?), and also, I wasn't feeling very well for most of the day. I didn't initially know why, but I think it had something to do with the fact that stashed in my purse from the night before, I found an empty jug of Pepito Sangria, which I had purchased at a bodega the night before:
It tasted like ass but was fun to carry around, and it only cost $4.99. The cute bottle top made me feel very classy and old-timey and I plan to join a jug-band with it.
Anyway, in case you don't know, Palm Sunday commemorates the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem,when his fans welcomed him by laying out palm fronds before him. While Jesus was riding into the city on a donkey for Passover, on the other side the Roman emperor was entering in a procession, with all the pomp and power of the Roman Empire... banners, calvary, drums, etc. There are many things we can question about the Bible and its crazy ass stories, but I truly believe the story of Jesus' humble entrance into Jerusalem, and that the symbolic and stark contrast with the entrance of the Roman empire is not a fabrication, but very real.
If I had been in Jerusalem for this procession, I wouldn't have welcomed Jesus with lame-ass palms. I would have gotten one of those big foam fingers with Jesus written on it, and would have written "LIGHT OF WORLD" on my stomach. Maybe a couple of my friends and I could have choreographed a dance routine or something.
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