It’s Palm Sunday, as I write. But this Australian woman just doesn’t ‘get it’ when it comes to the tremendous symbolism behind the Palm Sunday story.
How do you even go about getting palm fronds to lay on a road to a city? Were first century Israeli palms not as tall as palm trees growing amongst gums in backyards in my neighbourhood? Can you imagine trying to access the top of this solitary palm tree (photographed on Palm Sunday), let alone cutting down enough fronds to line a street?
Something I am more familiar with is the brand new green growth of peace lilies, which have once again emerged from the ground. There is a photo below. This is an annual miracle in my somewhat neglected backyard. I am already dreaming of showy white flowers in the drab shady corner behind my unit. That dream will become a reality in a few months time.
Yes, I know … peace lilies aren’t officially ‘lilies’. And the white flowery bits aren’t officially ‘flowers’. The actual flowers are so tiny I never even notice them on the central fleshy yellow bit. The white hoods are more like a leaf. Whatever they are, I love them. Not everything is as it seems. Peace lilies are a bit of a mystery to me, but I can live with mystery.
Were Jesus to explain the symbolism of Palm Sunday to an Australian women like me, far removed from first century Israel in terms of time and place, I wonder if he would point to the corner of my backyard instead of to palms, psalms and prophecy.
The first Palm Sunday in Israel
Our Lord entered Jerusalem on a young donkey. The road was strewn with cloaks and palm leaves. People praised God and joyfully recited a Jewish Psalm.
None of that makes any sense to me. I understand that these things happened, of course, but don’t understand the significance behind them.
For sure all this was very significant. The events are recorded in each of the four gospels. The boughs from trees … the young donkey … the timing of it being just days before the Passover … the cloaks … the chants of the crown … it was all hugely symbolic.
I don’t intend to unpack that symbolism in this blog post. It’s important, I know, but I don’t have the space to do it justice. Not if I want to rabbit on about my peace lily shoots, anyhow.
I would like to suggest that these green hope-filled shoots can remind Christians like me of the wonder and hope of Palm Sunday and of all that this coming ‘Holy Week’ will hold. Let me explain.
Peace lilies – symbolism in ‘my’ culture
In my culture, peace lilies symbolise peace, purity and rebirth.
‘Peace’ is part of their name, of course. They provide a steady calm presence, without the frills and flutter of many other flowers.
‘Purity’ is related to their colour. They are pure white.
As for ‘rebirth’, peace lilies are often given to grieving relatives to express sympathy, so florists tell us. They are not only elegant without being colourful and inappropriately cheerful, but they also symbolise rebirth. I can understand that, having witnessed the miracle of ‘rebirth’ year after year in my own backyard.
A Christian interpretation of peace lilies’ symbolism
Jesus’ death and resurrection brought peace – peace between God and us, and peace between one another. The Apostle Paul wrote at length about that. (See, for example, Ephesians 2:14-22.) Peace lilies can remind us of this precious peace.
Jesus’ death and resurrection was only effective because Jesus was pure. The Old Testament is full of the nasty imagery of sacrifice. A lamb or goat or bird that was without blemish was killed as a picture of the innocent taking the place of the guilty. Jesus fulfilled all that. I hate such distasteful imagery. Give me a pretty white flower any day.
Yes, yes, I know … like it or hate it, the atonement is a key element of our salvation. It may be distasteful but so is sin. I am eternally grateful that God’s perfect Son became a sacrifice on our behalf.
Rebirth is not a term I like to use, given how confusing it can be to people who believe in reincarnation. The rise of Buddhist elements in popular Australia culture, however, is probably exactly why the term ‘rebirth’ is now associated with peace lilies.
In any case, like it or not, ‘rebirth’ assumes the horror of death. Let peace lilies remind us of that.
As followers of Jesus, we have a tremendous hope of resurrection and life eternal. Unlike the peace lily plants which die back then reshoot year after year in the back corner of my garden however, Jesus only died and rose again once. One life – one death – one resurrection. And what a blessed hope that provides for those of us who follow him.
Now and not yet
My backyard peace lily plants are poking their green heads through the soil and growing fast, but the glory of those blazingly white flower-like sheaths are still months away. Such glory is present, somehow, in those green shoots, but it is far from visible yet. Now and not yet … that’s my peace lilies.
‘Now and not yet’ is an aspect of faith, too, that frustrates Christians like me no end. Our hope of eternal salvation is sure and it is great … but in many ways it is still our hope and not our reality. We are already saved … and yet our earthly bodies still age and decay. We are already transformed … and yet the process of transformation is long and arduous. We are already purified … and yet we have reason to confess ungodly thoughts, attitudes and actions over and over again.
Contextualisation
No, I don’t really understand the symbolism of the king’s entry into Jerusalem on a donkey two millennia ago on the other side of the world.
Perhaps Jesus could explain aspects of it to this Australian woman in terms of the peace lily plants growing in her backyard though. Yes, I know – peace lilies are not actually lilies. They’re a bit of a mystery, but a beautiful mystery I accept with joy.
In fact, much of the Easter story, including the significance of the Palm Sunday events, is a mystery to me. That’s fine. I can live with mystery. Understand it or not, I am extremely grateful for the hope offered through Jesus … a hope that impacts us now and yet there is so much more to come.
Here ends another backyard meditation.
3 replies on “Peace lilies and Palm Sunday”
Lots to chew on here, “Rose”. Thanks!
My personal Palm Sunday meditation has me grieving. Jesus was receiving the glory He is due, but for all the wrong reasons. They were expecting a political change when He was offering something much more profound. Of course, I probably would have done the same if I’d been there. My heart hurts that He was so misunderstood.
I think that they are called Calla Lilies in other countries. The sprouting of white lilies from long buried bulbs make me think of the resurrection rather than the crucifixion of our Lord.
I also assumed that those palm fronds on that first Palm Sunday were low shrub palms, not tall trees. Like yucca cactus plants!
Thanks, Jean. Down here, calla lilies and peace lilies (or arum lilies perhaps?) are officially different but they look so very similar. The type in my garden grow in the shade, which is a big plus, and the plants are bigger. And yes, I associate them more with the resurrection too.
Low growing palms makes so much more sense than leaves from tall palms. I didn’t really think that people shimmied up palms to get the fronds, but have occasionally wondered how they collected enough to line the roads.
I’m sure someone has written a nicely decorated book about Bible land plants. Wheat and tares – mustard trees and mustard seeds – grape vines – fig trees – palm trees – olive groves – it’s so different to plants in the suburbs of Melbourne.