Stones Crying Out: Lent Week 6

The drama of Holy Week always takes my breath away, beginning with the gospel story that recounts the scene of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem. Suddenly, the Messianic secret is out and everyone enjoys a collaborative “epiphany moment,” with the realization of Christ’s true identity. The apostles are appalled when a huge mob crying “hosanna” and waving palms in homage follows Jesus, riding on a donkey, into the center of the city. Peter, James, and John must have been wringing their hands in worry. The last time they were there, people nearly lynched Jesus. Making a big fuss would most certainly put them all in harm’s way. But when the apostles tried to quiet the crowd, Jesus protested saying that if they were silenced, the very stones would cry out!

Jesus’ reference to stones crying out always gets to me. I have “a thing” about rocks anyway, as most of my friends know. These solid, inanimate objects speak to me especially when I walk on the beach. Heart-shaped rocks leap out like valentines. Smooth white pebbles gleam like peppermint jelly beans. Turquoise, orange, and copper-hued stripes shine brightly when drenched with saltwater. This time of year, they look like Easter eggs and I fill my pockets full. I know God has lots of rocks and does not mind if I relocate a few to the Medicine Wheel prayer circle in my backyard or give them away to friends who also appreciate what lies in plain sight beneath our feet.

Sometimes big boulders even cry out “hosanna” as seen in this photo I took of three perfect white crosses that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. When folks express worry that our world is trying to erase the Holy One’s presence, I assure them not to be fearful. The Creator will not be silenced. If you don’t believe me, read the gospel for Palm Sunday. We have the word of Jesus on this topic.

The Triduum (three days preceding Easter) is in our sight now. I am easing into these momentous celebrations with eager anticipation and calm. Usually, this is the busiest, most stressful time of year for me. But now that I am retired from professional church ministry, I am happily anticipating the celebration of the Paschal Mystery in a new and different way. On Holy Thursday, I will wash and kiss the feet of folks in need. On Good Friday, I will ritually pour out lamentations for this suffering world and venerate the cross with like-minded friends. On Holy Saturday, I will bake Easter bread and wait at home, tomb-like, for our family celebration on Sunday, another glorious resurrection amidst the messiness of life. All the while, my ears will be attuned to the subtle whispers of the stones, flowers, plants, and ocean, that fill my soul to the brim with everlasting hosannas.