The Palm 

A young girl handed me a palm as I entered the church. It is a leaf that tapers from a small base to a fine point with a gradient blend of green and yellow. Smooth and wax-like to the touch, its edges are darker green and more rigid. Once belonging to a thorny branch or a bark covered tree, it is steadfast as it recoils back to its form whenever twisted or bent. 

My palm is like the palms that were waved by excited people who shouted strange words like  ‘Hosanna’ and call out, “Blessed is He”. It is like the palms that were thrown on the ground before Him as he passed by on a mule. 

Once, the palm was unattainable and out of reach to men. Like a king, it reigned high in glory on the tallest tree. It swayed trumphantly in the light of the sun, ever animated by the invisible wind or perhaps the breath of God. Then, at the end of Lent, after having been clipped, it came in humility. From a young child's hand, it was to be placed in the lowly hands of rough peasants and poor sinners like me.

Though separated from the life-giving tree, the verdant, sword-like leaf remains vivid and alive defiant against the tempter of death. In my hand, it points upward to heaven reminding me to faithfully persevere in evangelization and to reject temptation. 

My little palm leaf also stands for the mystical body of Christ, the Church. Hidden in it, I see a multitude of individual fibers coming together as one. As a mere fractal of that mighty and ancient tree, it is like me and you. We too are many and yet we are one in Christ's body. 

Individual fibers that flop and hang like threads pulled away from a cloth when bound together in this leaf are resilient and sturdy, pliable and forgiving. The winds come to test it again and again, this union of fibers, the Church. But like my palm, it will burst through the gusts and storms to stand straight again. It calls me to patiently remain in communion with the Church, to repent and to forgive. 

When at the end of its life it is cast into a fire and in an instant ashes appear under the brightened flames. Those ashes then come to life again as a most powerful sign that the next season of Lent has begun. When they are traced into a sign of the cross on my head, they call me to suffering, death, and resurrection. Once someone's palm, now ashes remind me of my mortality. This stark announcement is stamped into my being as I hear the words, “Remember man that thou art dust and to dust thou shalt return”.

The palm and the ashes call me to become a participant in the great Paschal Mystery. They speak to me of the many deaths and resurrections I experience each day. And each year with Christ as the Lord, for my holy palm and for me, even in death there is new life.