Are we meeting Him with branches – or are we following Him?
Among the joyful choir, among those flying to heaven, “He who is blessed is blessed in the name of the Lord” – silence, inner tense silence, listening to itself. Today's communion is the sacrament of death.
Elena Cherkasova. Entrance to Jerusalem
Strange, oh, what a strange feast – the Entry of the Lord into Jerusalem. Paved with palm branches and robes, the royal road to death. The holiday itself, the triumph itself – is like a golden open gate into the gloom of dying anguish and silence of the next five days.
Among the joyful choir, among those flying to heaven, “He who is blessed is blessed in the name of the Lord” – silence, inner tense silence, listening to itself. The louder the glee – the more painful it presses on the whiskey. And today's communion is the communion of death.
No death of soul, no condemnation, no — partaking of His death. The vow to be with Him in these terrible, painful days when death is near and inevitable, but for now – all inside His heart and thoughts, because there is no one to share.
So vigilantly and intently He, sitting on a donkey, turns around on an icon from a jubilant crowd – to His apostles, to His still-twelve. And it just hurts a lot from this look at those who are close and who He – even He – is looking for support. And they don’t understand anything when He needs it so that they understand.
And it’s unbearable that this dozen will soon cease to be a dozen, after only two days.
Such a strange holiday, and the place of the Christian is strange in it – at the same time in a joyful crowd, with the branches and hosannas meeting the Messiah – and following Him, a little more closed than always. Following Him – silently – because seeing off to death.
With palm branches on the holiday icon, only those who meet Christ are those who, after a few days, will shout “Crucify Him, crucify Him!”. The apostles, the faithful, those who know Him – follow Him without any branches.
Where is our place, Lord? ..
At the same time: throw a cloak under the hooves of His burro – and bite into the same cloak tightly, wrap yourself with your head, follow Him without seeing around you.
Put your lips to the Chalice after the sacrament – kiss Him on death. To attach, languishing from deep anguish, but – close, if only close to you.
Blessed is He who is in the name of the Lord … Blessed is He who is in the name of the Lord! The day was over, spring twilight covered Jerusalem, the crowd dispersed, and finally it became quiet. Quiet and dark.
And in this darkness, silence, before you, tired, you can, by clinging to your feet, whisper to you the only thing that my soul can give to the Savior who is coming to death: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
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