Tomorrow is Palm Sunday, and we enter into the mysteries of Holy Week. I realize that some years the church calendar speaks powerfully to inner states in me; other years, less so (or I am not looking for the congruence that is probably always there).

One annual practice I have is to read a particular quote about Jerusalem. It is by a dear friend, an Episcopal priest, author, and retreat leader. He is writing about the city Jesus enters… knowing he is heading to his death. The quote is an unflinching invitation to look our own Jerusalems squarely in the face.

I have just come from a Lenten quiet day where I used this quote, and I was so moved by the “Jerusalems” the people present identified:  still, small voices, things undone, a nagging conscience, a pending invitation to a braver life. One lively 87-year old woman said she did not have a Jerusalem these days -- and I believed her. She had the aura of someone on the other side of a lifetime of rich grappling and truth-telling. Myself, I think I have some “Jerualems” still to go.

Over to you; read with an open heart and see what comes up.

“Jerusalem is the place or person or part of yourself you fear the most -- over the years have avoided, denied, tried to ignore -- worked hard to forget or outgrow or get over or leave behind or cast out or sedate or drown or outrun or cover up or camouflage or cure or blame on somebody else. Jerusalem is the city you are that you have circled for a lifetime and awaits your return. Nobody can tell you what it is or where. Only you know that. Nobody can make you go there. It’s your call. Nobody can tell you when to step through its gates. You must decide.

But when you finally go there -- if you do, and my guess is that we have all been there once or twice -- when you do you will die. You die just as did Jesus to the illusion of being saved by temple or messiah. You die to fond dreams of a peaceable kingdom in church or marriage or self. You die to being the center -- calling the shots -- being forever in control, becoming perfect, even adequate. And that kind of dying includes earthquakes and tribulation. Outside Jerusalem you can do lots of fine stuff -- fresh starts, new resolves, promises and pledges and good works. But only in Jerusalem will you become re-invented, re-created, transformed.

“There are those of you well aware of your Jerusalem and the cost and promise of going there. For others it may not be quite so apparent.” 
-- Rev. William Dols, Former Editor, The Bible Workbench

Blessings on you as you circle, enter, and go beyond the Jerusalem that calls to you this season.