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