I went to Palm Sunday Mass in Detroit, or rather I opened a virtual window to the Jesuit community chapel in Detroit and immersed myself in their celebration.
As Mass began sirens could be heard screaming nearby, an apt hymn for these times.
Petals flew past my window, here in Bryn Mawr, laying a thick carpet of white across the back law. Palms before the Lord.
Have the audacity to hope, even from the depths of lamentation, the homilist pleaded with us. I hear Isaiah murmuring in the background: "Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, with the mountains quaking before you, while you wrought awesome deeds we could not hope for."
The layers of voices whispering in my ears. "I believe in one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church." Here we are, if not together, one.
The intentions falling into the space at the bottom of my screen. Names and pleas scrolling past. Save us, O Lord.
Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord. Thanks be to God.
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