Palm Sunday Makes Me Squirm

Our Palm Sunday service yesterday was good, but also kind of sad.
It was great in that I LOVE watching the children walk down the center aisle and wave their palm branches while everyone sings and shouts "Hosanna!!" It was good in we're getting closer to Easter and entering Holy Week.

But I find that there is also this dissonance with Palm Sunday that makes me squirm. True, we shouted "Hosanna!" when Christ was led through the city. We waved palm branches and rejoiced.

And then we crucified Him less than a week later. (This is the part where I squirm)

We have beautiful, simple wooden cross that someone made for Lent. It's made out of two logs and has seven holes bored into it to hold candles (one for each Sunday in Lent). This candle holder sits tilted on our communion table. We start out with all 7 purple candles lit on Ash Wednesday and then distinguish one as we get closer and closer to Easter. (the opposite of an Advent wreath)
I like the symbolism of the candles and the light, that the Light of the World is about to go out, to die.
And on Easter morning all seven candles are back, but this time they are all white and all lit. It's one of the most beautiful things, ever.

This week, as the woman who led worship distinguished six of the candles, she read part of the Scripture in Mark where Christ is being crucified, but she added "Hosanna" as she distinguished each candle. It sent chills up my spine. I felt ashamed and embarassed. That dissonance was real. I squirmed.

Then we read the Litany for Palm Sunday where Pilate asks the crowd whether or not to release Jesus or Barabas. We yelled to release Barabas. "But then what should I do with Jesus?"
"Crucify Him!!" we yelled.
I squirmed some more.

Now we're into Holy Week. Thursday is Maundy Thursday. The choral songs we're singing are full of agony, sorrow, and quiet. We will shroud everything in the church - communion table, lecturn, pulpit, banners, crosses, piano - with black cloth and strip them from the sanctuary, leaving the congregation in total dark and silence.

Christ will die.
We'll all squirm.

And then we will rejoice....