Palm Sunday

The next day the large crowd that had come to the feast heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem. So they took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, crying out, "Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel!" And Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it, just as it is written,
"Fear not, daughter of Zion;
behold, your king is coming,
sitting on a donkey's colt!"
His disciples did not understand these things at first, but when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered that these things had been written about him and had been done to him. The crowd that had been with him when he called Lazarus out of the tomb and raised him from the dead continued to bear witness. The reason why the crowd went to meet him was that they heard he had done this sign. So the Pharisees said to one another, "You see that you are gaining nothing. Look, the world has gone after him."

John 12:12-19

Palm Sunday has drawn down into a warm, clear, moon-lit night. Standing outside my house upon arriving home from church services I listened for a while to the chuck-wills-widows' songs: the first I have heard this year. For those who unfamiliar with this charming and unusual bird (close kin to the better known, and more northernly, whipoor-will), it is an eclectic amaglation of things: the habit of an owl, laying under cover by day and flying about by night; the whiskers of a cat; a grand, gaping mouth that is employed for the pursuit of insects; a dappled moltage that fades into the forest floor; and a lovely, haunting song-something along the lines of "chuck-wills-widow" whistled softly. Tonight I heard two joining in concert back through the piney woods, blending their voices into a single soothing, restful song. They are the soul of Southern woods at night- how glad I am that they have recommenced their singing.

As I listened to the chuck-wills-widows my eyes caught dim flashes of light in the yaupon and privet thicket near the house: fireflies in their silent symphony of light. The first fireflies of the year. I think it is anappropiate thing for them to return to their bright and mysterious displays at this time: as we look upon He Who is light, lifted upon the Tree, and behold the Light and Life of men piercing and shattering the darkness of death and sin- our glorious King, breaking the iron and bronze bars, and freeing the captives. Death is swallowed up in victory! Behold, O Zion, thy King cometh! Hosanna!