What will you be doing this Sunday, palm fronds by your side?

If you're like me, you'll be huddling in your pew, feeling uncomfortable about having to shout “crucify him” during the Gospel recounting of our Lord's passion.

I honestly hate pretending to be among the multitudes who initially welcomed the Messiah into Jerusalem with great fanfare and then, soon after, turned on him and demanded his brutal execution. It

doesn't matter that I know it's a dramatization. It doesn't matter that I've attended more Palm Sunday services than I'd like to count. I still have a hard time bringing myself to say those words.

Why? Because I observe an awful lot of “palm-waving” in my daily life and it saddens me. Palm-waving is my term for those who profess the Catholic faith and yet act in ways that blatantly contradict it. Just like the throngs who initially honored Jesus as a king but ended up shaming and killing him because he wasn't the king they expected.

Too many times have I been told, often by a friend or relative, “I'm Catholic but ...” What follows the “but” can be any variety of interesting claims. “But I still use artificial contraception. I mean, what does the Pope know about having kids anyway?” ... “But I never go to confession. Why should I have to tell my sins to a priest? It's none of his business.” ... “But I still believe women should have a right to choose.” ...

Do you know the worst thing about palm-wavers? It's when I find myself acting just like them. It's when I claim to be fervent about the Blessed Sacrament then make excuses not to go to eucharistic adoration. It's when I pretend to believe that all human beings are temples of the Holy Spirit then judge someone because of his or her outward appearance. It's when I'm too preoccupied with myself to help someone in need. It's when I preach about the importance of the holy rosary then I say my daily prayers apathetically. It's when I give my allegiance to the Catholic Church then do nothing to defend her when those around me criticize her.

Palm Sunday is a stark reminder for me of my own palm-waving. When it's time to say “Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna in the Highest!” I'm reminded of the times I praised Jesus and then hurt one of the members of his Mystical Body. When it's time to say, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” I think of the times I denied knowing him by my thoughts and actions. The feel of the palms in my hand brings forth the reality that he is my King and I so often fail to love him.

Are there ever any times when I deserve to embrace the palms in sincerity? Yes, when I admit my weakness and helplessness. That's when I can courageously ask for the Heavenly Father's mercy and forgiveness. Because I am his cherished child no matter what I think, do or say, he will give me the graces to pick myself up and try again. My own smallness will draw down his mercy upon me.

Consider Psalm 136: “Give thanks to the Lord for he is good; his mercy endures forever.” Because of God's mercy, I can put aside my past palm-waving and take up my palms on Palm Sunday, holding them with steady and contrite hands. When I recite “Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest,” I can acknowledge the fact that his greatness is what makes me worthy of his mercy. When I mutter, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” I acknowledge the fact that it is his suffering that has redeemed me from my sins — the very sins that helped put him on that cross in the first place.

When I process with the palms this Sunday, I'll do so with gratitude to my Lord and Savior — and with the firm resolve to never wave them meaninglessly again.

Marge Fenelon writes from Cudahy, Wisconsin.