You Said It

Palm Sunday procession: The Parish of St. Vincent Ferrer and St. Catherine of Siena, New York City. Credit: https://svsc.info/

All big cities seem to me intensely secular, especially in the U.S., and so it was a surprise to find myself on Palm Sunday, at the end of a crowd of several hundred people, following a cross through midtown Manhattan with police cars barring traffic.

The procession began at one Catholic church on the east side of the city, then proceeded, followed by a brass band, to St. Catherine of Siena ten blocks away where the ceremony of the first day of Passion Week was held.

This ritual contains the account of the days leading up to Jesus’ Crucifixion on Good Friday. It is a detailed rendering of what he said and did during these last days on earth, beginning with his ride on a donkey into Jerusalem, the road carpeted with cloaks and palms thrown down in acknowledgment of his presence, through his trial by Pilate, his testimony there and before King Herod, and the details of his last hours.

I have only two friends who belong to any recognized church; most of the people I know, especially at home in Santa Fe, have cobbled together a rewarding mixture of Eastern beliefs and practices, yoga, meditation, vegetarianism, hiking as a spiritual exercise, and more.

Most practice their beliefs alone, or sometimes with a small group; there are no processions.

Being among a crowd of people of faith who appear to be of all ages and kinds lends density and weight to the words that come before and after during the communion service, especially Jesus’ response during his cross-examination by Pilate, “You said it.” This is his reply to Pilate’s question: “Are you the king of the Jews?”

“You said it,” Jesus said, and I can hear patience and resignation, but also strategy, in those three words.

The outcome of the trial was not in question, both because Jesus knew and accepted his coming death and because Pilate, like all rulers, was swayed more by the concerns of the crowd than by anything the man in front of him could say.

Now, as I am increasingly bothered by the daily, hourly drumbeat of our war—I mean the war, long since won, to bring all of us into compliance with the official version of what is happening in Ukraine—I think our wisest response to the overwhelming one-sided barrage is, “You said it.”

It is impossible to see beyond the gristly photos and the hysterical reporting to analyze what is actually happening, or why. And I wonder—even if every atrocity dinned into our eyes and ears is actually happening—how anyone can envision a post-war world (if it ever arrives even for a minute) where the powers all figure out how to get along. We are distinctly and closely connected with the Russians, as we have always been and will always be, due to our reliance on their oil and gas and also, I found out recently, their sources of uranium for our bombs. Most of us have read some of the great Russian writers and know we are also connected through words: Masha at the opening of “ Chekov’s Three Sisters, explaining that she wears black because she is in mourning for her life.

In the world as we know it, we will always need to find a way to get along with leaders we have turned into monsters. I don’t believe in monsters, but even if you do, do you wonder how we are going to manage to negotiate when the drums stop beating, with the one we have at least in part created?

A believer of whatever faith might even dare to add, “After all, we are all children of God” (or of A Higher Power, or The Spirit, or whatever).

Perhaps it’s best for all of us to reply to the shouting, “You said it.”

[For more on the war in Ukraine, please see The war crimes beat at the Columbia Journalism Review.]

In Religion Easter Ukraine