Here we are again, Palm Sunday


Here we are again, Palm Sunday. Journeying with Jesus who humbly rides a donkey. Riding from Bethany and down into the Kidron Valley. Down into the shadow of Jerusalem. The ambivalent Passover crowds. The maze of streets and events. Until we reach the pain of Gethsemane. The terror of the arrest and trial. The utter despair of Golgotha and the cross. This final journey begins. Here we are again, Palm Sunday.

It begins with a small crowd from the country waving branches (only John has palms) in the week before Passover. This festival celebrating God’s undeserved action freeing the Hebrew people from empire and slavery. Celebrated under the watchful eye of the new empire and their puppets. This small crowd outside the city are welcoming their “king”.. A king unlike Pilate or Herod Antipas. They too enter Jerusalem, seated on war horses, surrounded by cavalry and infantry. They come in pomp and importance, prepared for trouble. Jesus is everything they are not. He rides a donkey.

The crowd with Jesus prays the Psalms of ascent crying Hosanna!! A shout of praise and exaltation. A plea for God to save. Words of insurgency. And then, they are lost in the crowds pushing into the great city. Preparing for this festival looking back and looking forward to freedom. This small crowd climbs the hill joining the songs, entering the amazing Temple of God. Here Jesus stops and sees everything. Everything! Game on!

Where we are in this story. A close disciple risking everything on this man? Someone from Bethany sending him on his way with songs and shouts and branches? A bystander joining the joy of the moment? A bemused pilgrim? A local just trying to live their lives and make the most of the influx? A notable Judean scorning this Galilean rabble? Or someone in authority wary of any commotion on this most sensitive festival – that only leads to death for some.

What do you experience in this story this year? How does it speak to our situation? As we join Jesus in the temple, what are we invited to see?  As we join the “Hosannas” around the eucharistic table what is it we cry for?

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