This is one of my favorite pictures of Jesus, riding into Jerusalem on what became known as "Palm Sunday", which happens to be today for the world's Christians, who number in the billions. Although I am a Jew by birth, my father was a practicing Catholic until I was about 6, attending Church each Sunday morning. And, occassionally, I used to go with him. I especially looked forward to Palm Sunday, for several reasons. The first was purely mercenary, it was one week until Easter, and the candy which the Easter Bunny would bring. The second, and more immediate delight was in the long palm fronds which were handed out to the congregants, in order that they symbolically welcome back their Saviour. These Palm fronds, to me, represented not only Jerusalem, the Crusades, Kings and Gods; these Palm fronds were no mere leaves! Rather they were the embodiment of the whole world, and what lay beyond the borders of my little life beyond Kings Highway and Bedford Avenue.
The last time I went to church with my Dad on Palm Sunday was in 1959. I still remember coming home from church with him, and the long palm fronds, teasing my brother with them. The fronds seemed so much longer to me then. The ones I see now a days can hardly compare to the expectations of that six year old boy I used to be. But just the memory of them awes me.
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