{Each day during Lent 2021 I am writing of those sacred spaces we call sanctuaries, now referred to by the “we-don’t-want-to-sound-too-pious” folk as “worship centers.” No matter what we call those big rooms, some of us more COVID-cautious church members have missed being there, so I share these images and reflections. My wife can’t wait for this writing discipline to be over; it’s spring, and we have other things to do! I’m with her, by the way. It always feels this way in the last days of Lent!}

We enter Holy Week. And today I proclaim that this is Palm Monday. Today’s sanctuary is filled with music, tunes provided by the Presbybop Jazz Quintet.

As you can see, the place isn’t exactly filled with people. This concert was streamed live and only three of us were invited (allowed) in to listen. This was not liturgical jazz, but a performance entitled “Blue Notes for Lent,” in the which the quintet plays some classics that were a staple of the Blue Note recording label. You can watch the concert at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMR4OaiFjTI .

So…Palm Monday? I was thinking about how things went down on that day after the first Palm Sunday. On Sunday, Jesus rode a donkey into Jerusalem to great acclaim, though it paled in comparison to another parade happening that day.

As Marcus Borg writes

Less well-known is the historical fact that a Roman imperial procession was also entering Jerusalem for Passover from the other side of the city. It happened every year: the Roman governor of Judea, whose residence was in Caesarea on the coast, rode up to Jerusalem in order to be present in the city in case there were riots at Passover, the most politically volatile of the annual Jewish festivals. With him came soldiers and cavalry to reinforce the imperial garrison in Jerusalem.

It is clear what Pilate’s procession was about. By proclaiming the pomp and power of empire, its purpose was to intimidate.

from the webpage of the Marcus Borg Foundation

So, Pilate came in a shiny new Cadillac Escalade, and Jesus rode in an old Ford Maverick, unintimidated. Palm branches were waved at Jesus; no word on what was waved at Pilate. But what about the next day? Here’s where the jazz comes in. Not the blue notes yet. On that Palm Sunday, the music was festive, Dixieland meets driving Swing. Jesus’ people jitterbugged, jived, and jumped in jubilation! Their hero, their Savior, Messiah, and King — the leader of their band — had achieved his triumph over the powers of oppression and occupation, those powers on the other side of town. We’ll show them!

And the next day? Monday morning they got up, hung-over. But the music still sang in their souls, its rhythm persistant and every note true, syncopated but true. Like the music of that concert pictured above in the sanctuary of the First Presbyterian Church in Clarks Summit, PA where the Rev. Bill Carter preaches from the pulpit and the piano. In the pulpit, his words are creative and profound (something he might deny out of humility). From the piano, his music is, well, Brubeckian! Whether he is interpreting the jazz masters of the keyboard or playing his own powerful jazz compositions, his music inspires and moves listeners to at the very least tap their feet. At the most? It melts the frozen chosen of the pews and brings life both more abundant and more fun.

And yet. Not all jazz is joy-filled. There is, after all, “the blues.” As Bill Carter has said, if a church has to have a praise band, it also needs a band of lament, for the song book of the Bible is filled with both kinds of musical offerings to the God who puts music into the human spirit. Palm Sunday’s rejoicing carries over into what I am calling Palm Monday, but it won’t take long for the followers of Jesus to realize the road to Jerusalem also leads out of the city, toward the place of the skull, Golgotha. The final destination may not have been evident for several more hours, but Jesus seemed to grow more quiet, more sober, more…grave…as that Monday moved toward Tuesday. So, eventually…the blues.

Blue notes are flatted, bent, shaped for enshadowed hearts. Whether the trumpet wails its lament at lost love, or Billie Holiday’s voice cries in pain at “Strange Fruit:” Black bodies swingin’ in the Southern breeze, Strange fruit hangin’ from the poplar trees, the music shares our deepest pain. Jesus hangin’ on a tree will bring an end to any sense of “triumph” felt by his followers during his palm days. Things had burst with upbeat energy on Sunday, slowed down on Monday, and as this week called “holy” moves toward its end, the skies and the music grow darker.

Thursday’s dinner music will be fit for a last supper. Farewell.

By Friday night, Jesus’ followers will be as rare as the audience in the photo listening to blue notes for Lent.

And Saturday? Don’t even bother to open the keyboard cover or wet the reed or oil the slide. No mood even for the blues. Beyond that? We’ll have to let you know. But hang on to your charts just in case.