Palm Sunday

Today is Palm Sunday - the beginning of Holy Week.  My husband and I have a routine - on the way to Mass, I read the week's readings aloud to him.  Today's Gospel was extremely long. I wasn't sure that I would be able to finish reading it, even though we have an almost thirty minute drive to church, but decided to give it a try.  The Gospel begins with the Lord's Supper and goes all the way through the death of Christ, as told in St. Luke's Gospel.  As I finished reading the familiar story, my sweet husband wiped his eyes and sniffed a bit.  He told me that the thief on the cross who basically made his confession to Christ and received forgiveness right on the spot really hit him.  I wish I could remember his exact words, because it really touched me.  He has such a soft, good heart.

Two days ago, as I was leaving work, I mentioned to my paraprofessional and her son that we wouldn't have school next Friday because it was Good Friday.  Her son said it seemed more like Bad Friday to him, since Jesus died on that day.  It made me think.  I thought, and said to him, that it was a Good Friday for the world because of what the death of Christ bought for us.  As I drove home I thought about my answer.  The Saturday before Lent began, we went to a conference called the Heart of Worship at St. Laurence Catholic Church.  We heard an amazing speaker there, who referenced a mystic (I don't remember who), who had visions of Christ and asked Him how He was able to so go through the Passion.  His reply?  He thought about us.  We were on His mind and in His heart.  Our names, our lives.  Whether this is specifically true or how true the visions of the mystic were I don't know, but Scripture seems to align with this idea.  Hebrew 12:2 -"For the sake of the joy that lay before him he endured the cross, despising its shame, and has taken his seat at the right of the throne of God."  We are His joy.