Poem – Palms

Palms waving,
we welcome Jesus.
We are the crowd,
it is a huge celebration.
The town is abuzz with the news.

We are chanting, all of us
“Blessed is he
who comes
in the name of the Lord!”
This man, this Jesus,
is the prophet
who was foretold,
the one who saves us
from ourselves.

“Hosanna” we shout,
clearing the path,
removing rocks.
Some are cutting down branches
from the roadside,
laying them on the path,
to make the way smooth.
Some are even
putting down their cloaks,
their only cloaks,
getting them dusty.
That dust will stay for days.

Days later, those shouts
turn to jeers.
Days later,
this same crowd
no longer wants to celebrate
but crucify.
Days later,
the tide has turned,
our Messiah
now the one
we mock.

Days later,
the one who grants us
eternal life
is himself

because of us.

We called for his death,
and he died for us.

He died in our place,
paid our bill.
He died to let us
get off the hook,
get out of jail free,
get free,
get going,
get on with the business of life.

He died because of us.
Because of our condemnation,
and because of his love.