Palm Sunday

This morning I woke up early to attend Palm Sunday 6:30am Mass. I have an opportunity to go to Mass every morning, but never go because it is all in churchy bangla which I don't understand and because it's normally at 6am...very early for a non morning person, especially with no coffee option. But, when I realized that it was Palm Sunday, I wanted to celebrate with other Christians and so I got myself up. (It wasn't that hard, I must admit) I walked over to the Church with Sister Momota, who was very excited I was attending Mass and then saw Elenor, an Irish woman I know who works in the local L'Arche community. She's an amazing woman in her 60s or 70s and was eager to chat with me about my recent trip to Nepal and her recent trip to India and to a Pilgrimmage for the Disabled that was held last weekend. 400 people with disabilities and their caretakers made a pilgrimmage, to show solidarity, at one of the Missions in Northern Bangladesh.

We stood around talking, while the Palm Branches were handed out. It was not unlike many Palm Sunday services I have attended in the past. The Priest then welcomed us, read the story of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a Donkey. Elenor had an English Liturgy, which was much appreciated. Then we all processed into the church, women going to the Left side and the Men veering to the Right. We took our shoes off by the door--it was a sea of shoes--walked in and sat on the floor. The harmonium and hand drums welcomed us in. The church is beautiful, and much of the service I was marveling at the shape the architect used and at the stained glass. I was also marveling at all the colorful saris and salwar kameezes that were around me. The women around me were fidgeting with their saris pulling the end up over their heads, to cover them. It never stays covered, but automatically they readjust the fabric. I find myself always readjusting my orna, sometimes without thinking, one seamless motion--maybe--I am probably awkward at it, compared to these women who've been wearing them since they were 12. (in Nepal, all of the women were having "phantom ornas" we kept thinking we were wearing them or forgot them or trying to adjust them) anyway.

Elenor and I followed the readings, the gospel, the Eucharist in her English prayer book. Sister Shanti did one of the readings with the Priest and we all stood or kneeled or were seated when appropriate. I figeted with my Palm Branch as I tried to catch some of the Bangla sermon. I imagine it was much like many of the sermons I've heard in the past.

Before I knew it, it was over and all of little children who live at my Mission were greeting me with their "goodmorning madams." They are so sweet--wearing matching dresses and bows. Outside the building I relocated my shoes with out too much trouble-I am sure I have the biggest feet of any woman there- and was greeted by Brother Geum, from Holland. He serves with 4 other brothers at the local Taize community and has been in Bangladesh for many years. It was nice to see him again.

Elenor and I walked back to the Mission, where Mashie (auntie in mandi, a tribal language) the cook, had prepared a wonderful breakfast of boiled eggs, chapati, pita (thin pancake like bread with coconut inside) for us and all 25 Sisters. We prayed our ususal prayer, said goodmorning to eachother, ate and talked. We especially talked about Sister Lucy, from France who had recently died at the age of 98. Sister Lucy spent her life in Bangladesh and was an extrodinary woman. I had the privelege of getting to know her a little bit this year, we'd communicate by writing on a small chalkboard, since her hearing was not good. Everyone spoke lovingly about her and how she was in this world no more. We also lamented about the new Visa policies and how the government is charging ridicuously high fines if you are late with the paperwork. It feels like a good, normal Palm Sunday.