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There were some choices in today's lectionary texts. Because it is Palm Sunday, the Sunday before Easter, the gospel reading could be Luke chapter 19: 28-40. This is the account of Jesus coming into Jerusalem on a donkey and the crowds going wild with excitement. Blessed is the king! A new day is here. We have a king! Even the stones would shout if they could. The other gospel reading is much longer. It takes us through the Last Supper, the prediction of Judas' betrayal and Peter's denial, Jesus praying in the Mount of Olives, and the ultimate arrest, beating, crucifixion, death and burial of Jesus from Nazareth. These stories are familiar. Plays, movies and Sunday School lessons give us images, sounds, even smell - depending on how literal we re-enact the donkey's entrance into the worship space. I belonged to a congregation that relished telling the tale of one particular Palm Sunday when Jesus came down the center sanctuary aisle on a Harley. It must have been the late 60's, early 70's.

Today is Palm Sunday. It's a Sunday when you can bring home from church a souvenir. Palm branches are not native to my Midwest homeland or Maryland either, I don't think. A number of years passed before I made the connection between Palm Sunday branches and the palm trees I finally experienced while visiting my cousins in southern California. Palm branches are great for swatting your big sister while you sit restlessly in a church pew. They also can be braided into crosses. I've never learned that art. I imagine some of you know how to make palm branch crosses. It's a great Passion Week symbol. The cheerleader's fronds transformed into a cross. The cross, an instrument of rejection and death. The cross that ultimately is transformed into a symbol of resilience and resurrection. The cross as a Christian symbol gets mixed reviews. It is an instrument of torture. Would we wear electric chair necklaces? Not without some experience of transformation I'd guess. The sword is turned into a plowshare. A crucifixion is overcome by resurrection. Life, not death, has the final word. Our faith is one that clings to and proclaims, LIFE! HOPE! And New Beginnings!

What a week lies ahead. Holy Week it is called. We prayerfully walk through two long chapters of Luke, accompanying Jesus to the upper room, into the Roman courts, along the road to Calvary, and Friday we lay Jesus' body in a cave sealed by a big rock. Life is a meandering journey of family, friends, betrayals, commitments, euphoria, despair, and surprise, (to mention a few)

As I pondered the gospel readings, the line that jumped out at me over and over was "not my will but yours be done." What a profound and timeless prayer. Not my will but yours be done. In a nutshell, that is the Christian quest and struggle. Your will. God, not mine. But... what is your will? Can my will be the same as yours? Are the leadings I feel your call or mine? What if I don't like your will? How am I supposed to understand your will? There is a lot of commentary out there speaking on your behalf. God. Thy will be done. Ultimately, in the grand scheme of the universe and its turnings, I believe God's will, will be done. However, we live in the now with choices and attitudes that demand our attention. We pray, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. What might be your will. God? And can I live with your response?

My friend Marilaurice lost her partner to cancer a few years ago. She still grieves as we all do when we lose someone we treasure. Grief doesn't end, it just changes. Marilaurice introduced me to the prayer mantra. Thy will be done. As I struggled with difficult events in my life that had no easy resolution, Marilaurice would say, "I don't know what to say except that to pray Thy will be done works for me." It is a letting go prayer. Letting go of believing we can control life. Letting go of believing we always know what is best or right. Letting go of leading so we can better follow. And as anyone who has tried it will tell you, it's easier said than done. Jesus practiced the art of letting go letting God long before AA coined the phrase. It was key to his survival, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. I'm not sure that Jesus knew his destiny from an early age. I'm not sure God sent Jesus to die the way he did. My faith leads me to believe that both God and Jesus live not only in the past and future, but also in the present. They respond in the present. The Word dwelt and dwells among us. Part of the witness of Jesus is modeling the radical freedom of letting go, letting God. When the going got tough, Jesus prayed to be able to listen, to trust, and to follow. And yes, sometimes that means going through hell. And, we know, our faith tells us, our lives show us, there is another side. All things of God are about life. Even death is about life. Prayer needn't be complicated. For many of us, I think, the power or importance of prayer becomes linked with having a certain skill or gift. "I can't pray" or "don't pray" are often quotes born of misunderstanding prayer's simplicity. It has taken me a long time to accept that God hears and even appreciates what I consider my clumsy, folksy prayers. I need not speak with eloquence in order to pray. I do not have to know a certain "magic" formula for prayer to be answered. Though I confess, when prayers go unanswered I sometimes still wonder if I just didn't do it right. Prayers do not even require words. Tears are some of the most powerful prayers I have prayed and witnessed being prayed.

There are basically three kinds of prayer, prayers asking for help, giving thanks, and expressing awe. We pray them all of the time. The opportunity waiting is for us to become conscious of them as prayer.

Think about moments lately in your day to day life. Did you pass a test or succeed at some challenging task? Did you utter or exclaim some form of YAHOO!? Or YES!!? Did you go up stairs and your joints cooperated? Did you visit with a friend that left you feeling needed and loved? Did you say thanks in some way? I submit that these are prayers. They are prayers that need a periodic recognition of their connection to the sacred. The sacred is present always. What about those moments of needing help? Dicey road conditions. Contemplating a difficult conversation with someone. Feeling lost, in the woods or in life. Being confronted with bad medical news. Saying yes to an important opportunity. However it is we move into and through these situations, we pray. At some level, we engage in conversation with God or an energy we understand to be the ground of our being. These prayers can be silent, repeating a word, phrase or name, or breathing a meaningful breath in and out, in and out. Prayer needn't be complicated.

Prayers of awe are very spontaneous. Reaching the top of a climb and looking out. Feeling a baby move in its mother's womb. Sensing the Holy Spirit lead a committee in an important decision. For me lately, it's been watching in wonder as Jaime, my 16 month old, puts a round peg in a round hole. The world is filled with occasions for awe. We pray when we recognize the divine in the ordinary and extraordinary. Thy will be done. It's a prayer I have prayed a lot these past months. It feels somewhat arrogant to say our being together this morning is God's will. I'm not one to speak in the language that such and such is God's will. I'm more comfortable in following God's leading. God has led us to this point. That feels true and I am both thrilled and frightened by this reality. I bet I am not the first follower to feel these things as we say yes when asked to follow.

Thy will be done. What is your will, God? To take another job in another part of the country? To remain close to my church home after my life partner dies? To make different choices concerning priorities or friends? What do you want me to do. God? What is your will? What can we do together? Breathe in. Breathe out. And Jesus prayed. Amen.