For a Lighter Side of Holy Week

A Deal A father and son made a deal. Dad would buy Junior a car if the boy would shave his beard and cut his shoulder length hair, and read his Bible every day. The car was purchased, Junior did his reading, but didn’t get his hair cut or shave off his beard. When Dad confronted him, he said, “Well, Dad. I have just been reading about Jesus and he had long hair and a beard.” “Yes he did,” the father agreed, “ and he also walked everywhere he went.” The Boy Jesus On the walls of a very old church in Germany there is a picture which was painted 500 years ago. It shows the boy Jesus going to school…. With a bit of imagination, the artist pictures a six year old schoolboy walking along with his grandmother Anna. One of his little hands in hers, and the other holds his bag of school books. Here was Jesus, like any other boy or girl of his age, going to school …..getting a new experience. As the Gospel says, “He was growing in wisdom.” Altruism Sunday school teacher: “Now, Jimmy, I told you to memorise the motto: ‘It is more blessed to give than receive’.” Jimmy: “But I already know it; that’s the motto my father has in his business.” Sunday school teacher: “Oh, how noble of him! And what is his business?” Jimmy: “Boxing.”
An Initiative of Jesus Youth A Missionary Movement at the Service of the Church

Don Bosco Utume
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April 5, Palm Sunday: Issue 89

Jambo You(th) is a weekly news letter aimed at helping the Youth in moulding their daily lives in Christ. Our vision is expressed in just two phrases: GOOD CHRISTIANS and RESPONSIBLE CITIZENS.

Pep-up To the Young Points to Ponder Saint of the Week Jokes Last Drop

: Stories for Reflection : The Thief on the Other Cross... : What is the Significance of Palm Sunday? : St. Guthlac : For a Lighter Side of Holy Week : Holy Blood


Seal of Confession
In 1853, a parish priest in the Ukraine was stripped of his priesthood, convicted of murder and condemned to Siberia for life. The priest’s gun, used for the slaying, was found hidden behind the high altar of his church. “I assure you that I am innocent”, he told the court, and that was only his defense. He was led away in chains while his bishop and parishioners stood weeping. Twenty years later, the parish organist lay dying. He called for the village magistrate, and told him before many witnesses that he was the one guilty of the murder for which the priest was sentenced. The organist had killed so that he might marry his victim’s widow. He hid the gun and directed the police to it. Overwhelmed by remorse, he had visited the priest in prison and had confessed, but he lacked courage to admit his guilt to the authorities. The priest had known through confession who was guilty. But he preferred to pass as the criminal himself rather than break the seal of confession. An order for the release of the priest was rushed to the Siberian prison. But it was too late. Worn out by his sufferings and hard labour, the priest had died few weeks before, carrying his brim secret to the grave. The story also resembles the experiences Jesus went through in his unjust trial and final crucifixion. He was innocent and yet he accepted the unjust verdict for the salvation of the entire human race. As we recall these events in the life Jesus in this Holy Week, let us remind ourselves that the suffering he took up on Himself were for our sake and for our sanctification. So Let us walk this week (His best) with Jesus so that He may walk a life time with us...

Last Drop Holy Blood
He walked the way to the garden And blood fell in that place; Bounded before the rulers, His blood streamed down His face. No mercy, grace or pardon Was granted to Him, here. But, God was, then, providing The price for all the years! My sins were, there, upon Him; Blood red, then sparkling white! My hope in Him, eternal, Brought Heaven into sight! Joan Clifton Costner
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Jambo You(th) 2009
Editor: Shyjan Sdb

Jambo You(th) 2009

The Thief on the Other Cross: A Good Friday Monologue
I don't belong here. I really don't. Paradise is the last place I expected to end up after all I've done. Let me tell you my story. I am (I was ) an armed robber, I guess you'd call it. Me and Jake and the others would live in caves in the Judean hills near the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. We made our living by violence. We wouldn't take on people in the big groups that passed. They traveled together for safety. But a family alone would be an easy mark, as well as anyone foolish enough to travel by himself. Brandishing a strong staff would usually do the trick. Threaten them with a beating and they'd give up without much of a fight. But I've been known to break a few bones in my day, God forgive me. I don't think I actually killed anyone, but then I never stayed around long enough to find out. The first time I meet Jesus is when I was invited to a party in his honor in Jericho at the home of a rich tax collector named Zacchaeus. I was introduced, we shook hands, and Jesus looked me in the eye for a long time. He could see right into me, who I was, every crime I have ever committed. Then he smiled this big friendly smile. "You know," he says, "there's forgiveness for you in my Kingdom. How about it?" I drop my eyes, say something non-committal, and shuffle away. The next day I'm in the crowd, hanging on every word he says. Jesus is talking about his Kingdom, comparing it to a mustard seed, calling it the Kingdom of Heaven. I want so much to go up to him after he has finished and take him up on that forgiveness thing, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I wish I had. It isn't much later when me and my friend Jake -- the guy on the third cross -- get caught by a Roman patrol. The others run off, but they catch us, beat us silly, drag us into Jerusalem, and throw us in prison. No mercy for the likes of us. And so it happens that on the same day that they crucify Jesus, they crucify me and Jake -- one of us on his left, the other on his right. This isn’t any normal crucifixion. Mobs of people are there just because of Jesus. Self-righteous Pharisees are swaggering and mocking. "If you're some kind of messiah," one sneers, "come on down from that cross. If you're a savior, save yourself -- if you can!" Jake begins cat-calling, too, if you can imagine that. I yell over at him, "You miserable thug, don't you have any fear of God? Can't you see that we're going to die just like he is? Show a little decency! We're getting exactly what we deserve, but he hasn't done anything wrong." Jake quietens down and the Pharisees lose interest. But I can't get Jericho out of my mind. I can't forget Jesus' eyes, his words, and his invitation. And so I call over to him, though it's getting hard to breathe and talking makes it that much harder. "Jesus!" I say. He turns his head towards me. "Jesus, I was there in Jericho. I met you at a party at Zacchaeus' house, remember?" He looks at me for a moment and then nods his head just a little. He does remember. "I never forgot what you said. I wanted to say yes, but just couldn't. And now look at me -- look at us!" He is in bad shape -- exhausted, in excruciating pain, back oozing, breath labored. He isn't going to last long. I can see that. But somehow I can see beyond all that. He was the Messiah, is the Messiah, no matter what those priests and Romans and Pharisees have done to him. And when he dies, he will be with God. In a few hours, maybe less, he will be vindicated. He will reign in that Kingdom he told us about. "Jesus," I call again, quieter now. He opens his eyes. They are the same eyes, the same piercing, loving, honest eyes. "Jesus," I said, "when you come into your Kingdom, would you remember me?" His words are labored, his lips parched, but I can still hear him pretty well. "Truly, I say to you...." His voice cracks, then is stronger for a moment. "Truly, this very day you will be with me in Paradise." His eyes droop. He is fading quickly now. But I believe him. I do! That's what gets me through those next few hours until they break my legs to kill me. I do believe him! And then I find myself here in heaven, in Paradise. I sure don't deserve to be here, but here I am anyway. I guess that's what a man like me gets when the King himself grants a pardon. Full forgiveness. Pretty amazing, don't you think?

What is the Significance of Palm Sunday or Passion Sunday?
Palm Sunday, also known as Passion Sunday, is the first day of Holy Week which ends with Easter the following Sunday. It commemorates Jesus' entry into Jerusalem prior to be crucified a few days later. Actual ceremonies typically include a procession of palm fronds which are blessed and will later be burned, their ashes used in the next year's Ash Wednesday. This Sunday observes the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem that was marked by the crowds, who were in Jerusalem for the Passover, waving palm branches and proclaiming him as the messianic king. The Gospels tell us that Jesus rode into the city on a donkey, enacting the prophecy of Zechariah 9:9, and in so doing emphasized the humility that was to characterize the Kingdom he proclaimed. The irony of his acceptance as the new Davidic King (Mark 11:10) by the crowds who would only five days later cry for his execution should be a sobering reminder of the human tendency to want God on our own terms. Traditionally, worshippers enact the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem by the waving of palm branches and singing songs of celebration. Sometimes this is accompanied by a procession into the church. In many churches, children are an integral part of this service since they enjoy processions and activity as a part of worship. This provides a good opportunity to involve them in the worship life of the community of Faith. In many more liturgical churches, children are encouraged to craft palm leaves used for the Sunday processional into crosses to help make the connection between the celebration of Palm Sunday and the impending events of Holy Week. This Sunday is also known as Passion Sunday to commemorate the beginning of Holy Week and Jesus’ final agonizing journey to the cross. The English word passion comes from a Latin word that means "to suffer," the same word from which we derive the English word patient.

SAINT for the WEEK April 8 St. Guthlac
The little town of Crowland stands in the Fens east of Peterborough and its famous 'threeway' medieval bridge, standing in the town centre over what is now dry land serves as a reminder that this was once a true water-town, a miniature Fenland Venice. The hermit St. Guthlac (673-714) was its most famous inhabitant. Originally a soldier, he had been a monk at Repton, near Derby, but was persuaded to leave the community because of the campaign he waged against any kind of alcohol. Reaching Crowland by boat, he established his hermitage there and became famous for his sanctity and religious dedication. His cult was spread by Kings and Archbishops alike; the abbey of Crowland was built round his cell, with his jewel -laden shrine at its centre. In the British Museum there survives the so-called Guthlac Roll, a 12th. century picture-biography of the saint. Along with St. Cuthbert in the North, Guthlac ensured that the life of the solitary, praying hermit was taken seriously, and that the hermit was seen as a powerful intercessor for the needs of those at work in the world.

by Dr. Ralph F. Wilson
Don’t tell your God how big your problems are, but tell your problems how big your God is.

A life without cause is a life without effect.

Jambo You(th) 2009

Jambo You(th) 2009