A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees. The crowds went ahead of Him and those that followed shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!” “Hosanna in the highest heaven!” Matthew 21:8-9 (NIV)

LASTING MEMORIES

We watched from the boardwalk as the orange sun dipped slowly into the Atlantic Ocean, brush strokes of pink and purple spreading across the darkening sky as the golden flecks on the water faded to black. I squeezed my husband’s hand in mine, and laid my head against his arm. I knew that in a few moments, the ocean breeze would chill his depleted body and I’d need to begin the difficult task of manuveuring him and his wheelchair back to our hotel. Our vacation at Bethany Beach was swiftly coming to an end. Ron’s illnesses continued to ravage his body and his mind.

I knew this would be our last vacation.

For just a few more moments, I breathed in the fresh salt air, committing to memory the colors of the sunset, the warmth of Ron’s hand in mine, the gentle sound of lapping waves. The months ahead would be difficult; this moment would be a moveable feast of the senses to travel with me.

A MOVEABLE FEAST

Palm Sunday is, according to the United Methodist Church, a “moveable feast” that–unlike Christmas–occurs on a different date each year, determined by the lunar calendar. While the date may change, traditionally Palm Sunday is a celebration and, perhaps more importantly, a memory to hold when times turn dark. Even as we celebrate the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, we are aware of what will happen: the abandonment on Wednesday, the betrayal on Thursday, the trial and death on Friday. Difficult days to be endured, perhaps eased by a beautiful memory.

“Hosanna!” the crowds shouted. “Save now!” They wanted immediate release from Roman rule, expecting that Jesus would not just overturn the tables of the money-changers in the temple, but the Roman government itself. The clothes and palms spread before Him were a sign of homage to the one they hoped would become the earthly King and free them from their physical bonds.

But Jesus, you might recall, came to Jerusalem not on a horse, a symbol of war, but on a donkey, a sign of peace (Zechariah 9:9). An untried donkey (Luke 19:30). A common work animal. An animal whose sole purpose in life was for this one moment in time when he carried the Savior into the city. A moment that would become, for the faithful followers of Jesus, a time to remember.

A TRAVELER MOVES ON

In his memoir published in 1964, Ernest Hemmingway describes a moveable feast as, “the memory of a splendid place that continues to go with the moving traveler, long after the experience has gone away” (A Moveable Feast). Even knowing that times turn dark do not stop us from our Palm Sunday celebrations.

Realizing that Ron’s earthly walk was coming to an end did not stop me from enjoying that last sunset we shared together on the boardwalk in Bethany Beach. The sun sank that evening, but in the dark days that followed I continued to recall the sound of the lapping ocean waves, the purples and pinks of the sky, the scent of the salted ocean air. The warmth of my husband’s hand in mine.

Moveable feasts might skip around the calendar, arriving on a rainy March or a sunny April. It is not the date itself that matters; it is the splendid memory that moves with us, down whatever road we are led. 

And, I pray, down whatever road you are led.