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Wilda Morris

Palm Sunday Mischief


Published April 14, 2019 on the Ancient Paths Facebook page.

Palms wave as the congregation sings Hosanna! Hosanna! Joel tickles his little brother’s neck with his tall palm branch. Cindy reaches hers into the aisle, dragging the tip across red carpet.

I remember the year my daughter waved her palm wildly, brushing the hair of the brunette in the row ahead. After church the organist scolded her and turned anger on me. I hung my head and scolded all the way home.

On that day in ancient Palestine how many children struck friends with supple green swords, pretending to be Roman soldiers? How many siblings tickled each other with palm branches, giggling from enjoyment of their game? Did a grinning child brush a palm across the Master’s cheek while dancing along beside his donkey?

Did Jesus smile, wink at them as he rode on toward Jerusalem knowing the kingdom belongs to such as these?

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