I can’t remember what year it was when my friend Bette and I flew down to the Bahamas for the NPM regional convention in Nassau. It was a lot of fun, and we met up with friends from Louisville. Nassau had just been hit by a big hurricane, the effects of which could still be seen in places. Thus it was that, out for a walk, our motley group came upon a whole lot of palm branches that had fallen on the grass. Each of us picked one up, and we fell into a double line, marching gaily, brandishing our palm branches and singing joyfully. The locals may have thought we were nuts, but we were celebrating life and friendship and the glories of the day and anything else we could think of. It was quite a procession.

Palm Sunday in large parishes is often ruled by the need to get folks out of the parking lot before the next scheduled Mass. This usually means that the blessing of palms and the procession is celebrated only at one mass—and truncated at that. Smaller communities have a huge advantage: with perhaps one Mass on Saturday night or Sunday morning, they can have a bang-up celebration in which people gather outside, weather permitting, or in a place different from the church, to bless the palms and process to the church.

It’s also a chance to join with neighborhood churches whose denominations also celebrate Palm Sunday. Walking from church to church, singing hymns we have in common, can be an effective public witness to our common faith. We don’t do enough of that these days.