Palm Sunday – The Raynville Rambler

There’s a man riding in on a donkey

Today’s hymn from Sing Praise is, unusually for this hymn book, one intended mainly for children. “There’s a man riding in on a donkey” is a telling of the Palm Sunday story set to the tune of an established favourite baptism song, “give me oil in my lamp”. This is no doubt because the chorus of the original – “Sing hosanna to the King of Kings” – is the chant always associated with Palm Sunday, as sung by the crowds welcoming Jesus into Jerusalem. (incidentally, I didn’t bother to write a blog post for yesterday’s song, as the words of ‘Sanna Sannanina’ are just that, ‘Hosanna’ in an unspecified ‘South African’ language).

The words of the verses explain simply that this “man riding in on a donkey” is in fact a king, but (verse 2) “why a king wearing no fine crown? Where the drums, where the high-sounding cymbals if a king is riding into town?” The question isn’t really answered in the text of the song, as verse 3 moves straight to “the joy of the news he brings” and proclaiming Jesus as “the Son of the Highest, the King of Kings”.

Why is the question not answered? Because this Sunday’s theme is seen as more accessible to children than the rest of the events of Holy Week and those who write songs or plan services want to keep things simple and happy for their sake. The correct answer to “why a king wearing no fine crown?” is around the understanding of leadership that Jesus demonstrated, leadership that is not only humble and willing to serve those he leads, but even to die for them. It’s easier to have songs and activities around someone riding a donkey and others waving greenery and singing “hosanna!” than it is to arrange something age-appropriate around the arrest, trial, torture and death of an innocent man.

Even many adult Christians find it easier to stick to the joyful themes of Palm Sunday and Easter morning and pay less attention to the events in between. Clergy often complain how few people turn up for Maundy Thursday footwashing and Good Friday reflections – even though Friday is still a public holiday, even in our largely secular society, and most people will have the day off work. It takes more of an effort to enter into the sombre mood of the days leading up to the Crucifixion, all the more so when that secular society is unaware. I heard someone in a Zoom meeting yesterday telling of the shock he felt at the contrast between the silent reflection of a Holy Week retreat, and the busyness and jollity of the crowds he found back in town when it ended on Good Friday evening.

But it was no different in Jesus’ day – the crowds had gathered in Jerusalem for Passover and most of them were probably there for the jollity, to meet up with friends and relations, to take part in the Passover meal where I expect more than a few sips of wine were drunk to celebrate the people’s freedom. But you can’t celebrate Passover properly without remembering the slavery from which the Hebrews were freed, and you can’t celebrate Easter properly without having remembered the tragic events leading up to it.

Make way, make way

Today’s offering from Sing Praise is another one that’s familiar to me, Graham Kendrick’s “Make way, Make way”. It comes from a suite of worship songs called “Make Way for the Cross”, described as “a celebration and a proclamation of the heart of the Gospel, designed to be used as an outdoor or indoor event”. Several of the other songs from that suite have also remained popular, such as “Come and see the King of Love” and “Let the flame burn brighter”. Taken as a whole, they cover the story of Holy Week, but this one can stand alone as a processional song for Palm Sunday, a joyful celebration of Jesus coming into Jerusalem as the Messiah, before the leaders turned the crowd against him.

In the first verse we are encouraged to “fling wide the gates and welcome him”, not into Jerusalem, but in to our lives. It’s widely understood in evangelism that no amount of preaching and teaching will bring someone to Jesus until they make that decision to open their heart to him.

The second verse is what is sometimes called the ‘Nazareth manifesto’ in which Jesus explained at the start of his public ministry the signs that he would do to show who he was – heal broken hearts, set prisoners free, make the deaf hear, the lame walk and the blind see. These signs he did in fact perform, both physically and also spiritually as he set people free not only from actual diseases and disabilities but also from various forms of religious oppression, discrimination and persecution, as explained in the third verse – “those who mourn with heavy hearts, who weep and sigh, with laughter, joy and royal crown he’ll beautify”.

The last verse is again a call to a personal response: “We call you now to worship him as Lord of all, to have no other gods but him – their thrones must fall”. Again, this should be understood in the context for which the song was written, an outdoor procession or service as an act of public witness intended to make onlookers think again of the relevance of the life and death of Jesus to their own life.

You are the king of glory

**The Triumphal Entry. Albert Decaris, 1953**

For today’s choice from Sing Praise, I’m going back a bit in terms of the liturgical calendar, from Maundy Thursday to the preceding Palm Sunday (this forthcoming Sunday). However, the chosen song, “You are the king of Glory” by Mavis Ford, was not necessarily written with Palm Sunday in mind – there are no references to Jerusalem, palms, disciples or donkeys here, and it is probably only because the of the chorus “Hosanna to the Son of David” that the compilers of the hymn book have put it in this section.

The song is very familiar to me. It is dated 1978, and as a contemporary worship song was popular with the Christian Union that I attended 1981-1983. It hasn’t completely disappeared from the repertoire since then, although perhaps not often chosen as there have been countless other worship songs written since. I suggest that the factors that have allowed this one to remain in later collections where other 1970s songs have been forgotten are its easy singability, and that it consists largely of Biblical titles for Jesus, that mean Christians of whatever age and tradition are comfortable with its words.

The titles, then. In this song of praise to Jesus, he is referenced as King of Glory, Prince of Peace, Lord of heaven and earth, Son of righteousness, Son of David, King of kings and Messiah. That’s a Biblically pleasing seven titles for him, and in addition he is credited with being worshipped by angels and his reign resulting in glory in the highest heaven.

Singing the praises of Jesus is a good warm-up for any act of worship, a reminder that the one in whom we put our trust is no mere prophet or teacher, but very God and the one the Jewish people had long awaited. Lent is known mainly for more reflective, sombre songs as we look towards the horrors of the Cross, but Palm Sunday is a joyful interlude when it’s appropriate to sing upbeat songs of praise like this one, just as Jesus’ followers did when he entered the gates of the holy city to their chants of Hosanna!

Palm Sunday (5 April 2020)

A Bible reflection for Palm Sunday (5 April 2020)

By Stephen Craven, Reader (Licensed Lay Minister) in the parish of Bramley, Leeds.

Introduction

Since all churches including ours (St Margaret’s Bramley) are closed at present, there will an online service offered by the Rector at 10.15 this morning on our Facebook page. If we had been having a service in church it would have been my turn to preach, so here is my reflection on the set readings for the day.

The Anglican liturgy for Palm Sunday is different from the standard pattern. Instead of the usual short Bible readings, there are no fewer than six readings set for today, the last and longest of which is the full story of the passion (suffering) of Jesus according to Matthew. I have chosen to comment on four of these.

Practical tip: for the Bible readings, right-click and select ‘open in new tab’ so that you don’t lose your place on this page.

The first Bible reading

Matthew 21:1-11 Jesus enters Jerusalem

Reflection

At a time when we are all socially isolated, reading of the crowds pressing around Jesus seems strange, and their cheerful shouts of praise may sound discordant or even disrespectful when we know how many people are suffering. We are beginning to get used to being on our own, or just with a few family members, most of the time.

Yet people are still finding ways of doing things together, of staying positive. Online meetings, virtual parties, swapping jokes (did you see the announcement on 1 April that the Bishop of London will be blasted into space to found the Diocese of the Moon and Mars?). ‘Dates’ where we chat by phone over our individual cups of coffee or glasses of wine.

And then there’s the 8pm clapping for the NHS – coming together to honour the workers putting their own lives at risk, hailed as heroes and heroines by the rest of society. That’s much like what the crown on Palm Sunday were doing, coming together to honour Jesus as their hero, the one who would save them (Hosanna means ‘save us!’). But save them from what? From the Romans? From Herod? A very different answer would emerge in the course of the next week.

The second Bible reading

Psalm 31:9-16

Reflection

Many of the Psalms are songs of lament, an honest crying out to God of the things that are wrong in our lives or in society, and the pains we suffer (physically or mentally). Several of the verses of this psalm have echoes of how people are suffering with the Coronavirus: “Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am in trouble”… “my strength fails me because of my affliction, and my bones are consumed” … “when my neighbours see me in the street they flee from me. I am forgotten like one that is dead, out of mind” … “fear is on every side”. Nothing can shock God, so in reading this psalm and responding to it, be honest with him about how you are feeling.

But like many of these psalms of lament, Psalm 31 ends in hope. “Blessed be the Lord, for he has wondrously shown his love to me when I was beset as a city under siege … be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord.” (verses 21, 24).

The third Bible reading

Philippians 2:5-11

Reflection

In the early centuries of Christianity, men argued constantly about who Jesus actually was – truly God and not fully man, or truly man and not fully God, or somehow both fully God and man? Most branches of Christianity teach the last of these: Jesus was truly divine, yet in every way a real human being: body, mind and spirit. When he suffered, he really suffered. Did this – becoming a suffering soul in a suffering body, dying on the cross – demean him, somehow compromise his pure divine nature?

Paul, writing to the Christians at Philippi, gives a resounding ‘no’ as his answer. Precisely because Christ suffered for us as the man Jesus, experiencing all the pain that we can experience (while at the same time demonstrating how we should live), and thereby redeeming us from the sin that had separated us from God, he was given the highest honours in Heaven, and deserves the highest praise from us. Part of the way that we can honour Jesus’ sacrifice for us is by being servants of others, as many are doing already at this time of suffering.

The fourth Bible reading (the Passion Gospel)

Matthew 26:14-27:54

Reflection

What does Holy Week have in common with the present lockdown of society? For a start, the rapidly changing events. No two days are alike. Three weeks ago, I was working as normal in a city centre office, drinking with friends in pubs in the evening. Then came word that we should be socialising less, keeping our distance from people. The Diocese (my employer) asked us to work from home at least three days a week. That was new for me, setting up my work laptop to log in to the office computer network. By the end of the week, we were told to take home whatever we needed as the office would be closing and home working has become semi-permanent. I’ve had to learn video conferencing, scanning papers at home to upload remotely to the office.

The following weekend, like many people, Linda and I met friends for the final time in a pub on Friday evening, and on Saturday we drove out into the countryside – parking on a minor road, walking (mostly) quiet paths. Two days later the Government told us even that was not permitted, and we’re now only allowed a short daily walk from home. Phone calls (maybe with video) are the only way of keeping in touch, and for those who live alone and don’t have the internet, it’s even worse (my mother is at least seeing my sister who comes to sit two metres away from her in the garden to chat). On Friday this week it was confirmed I will be ‘furloughed’ from next Wednesday – ‘laid aside’ for at least three weeks, albeit on full pay thanks to the Government’s 80% grant scheme. Compared with those whose small business have collapsed, I’m one of the lucky ones.

Jesus understands. In the course of one week he went from being at the centre of attention, in control of his activities, to being accused of blasphemy, abandoned by his closest friends, losing his freedom of movement, whipped and crucified with only a few people present. The ‘Via Dolorosa’ or way of suffering, marked in many churches by walking round the Stations of the Cross as Jesus walked to Calvary, must have been a time of terrible loneliness. Even if there was a crowd watching, this time it was hostile. Some people say it was the same people who praised Jesus on Palm Sunday who called for his crucifixion on Thursday. Others say the crowds were different. But clearly the popular mood changed rapidly. Things had turned ugly. Judas, one of the inner circle of disciples, betrayed him. Pilate, though believing Jesus to be innocent, symbolically washed his hands of responsibility (oh, how topical!) and handed him over to be killed.

There is also the wild range of emotions. What have you experienced in the last few weeks? Bereavement? Confrontation? Fear? Sleeplessness? Confusion? Loneliness? Again, Jesus understands. He went through all these emotions himself – bereavement when his friend Lazarus died shortly before these events (famously, “Jesus wept”), confrontation in the Temple, the blood-sweating fear of Gethsemane, sleeplessness while his exhausted disciples dozed, the confusion of his betrayal and arrest, the loneliness of the trial and Cross.

But there are signs of hope, both then and now. Throughout Holy Week there were exceptions to the popular mood. His mother who followed him to the end. The anonymous owner of the Upper Room who lent it for the Last Supper. Veronica who wiped his face. The penitent thief. The centurion who acknowledged him, after his death, to be the Son of God. Joseph of Arimathea who gave him a decent burial. These are the unsung heroes of the Bible story. Likewise, in our own time we see signs of hope, whether it’s the solidarity of all applauding the NHS together, community initiatives to support isolated neighbours, donating to or volunteering with foodbanks. Those who do these things are the sometimes unsung heroes of our own time.

In the last week I have also started to hear suggestions for this to be the wake-up call for a whole new way of living. Maybe in the future we can commit to making permanent the temporary changes that have been forced upon us: less travel, less unnecessary shopping, more time calling friends, more exercise outdoors, a new engagement with God and nature, a new sense of belonging together as one common humanity. These, of course, are all parts of what it is to live the Christian life anyway.

So we can know that Jesus understands the rapid pace of change and emotional distress that we experiencing, but also asks us to be like those who face up to these by continuing to serve others, being heroic in any small way we can, and being open to more permanent change. For Christians who know the ending of the Holy Week story on Easter Day, there is the assurance of resurrection, which is much more than Jesus coming back to life, it is the start of a permanent change, a completely different form of life – life eternal. More on that next week!

Finally, may I wish you a blessed Holy Week and joyous Easter.

Stephen

Bible texts accessed through the Oremus Bible Browser are from The New Revised Standard Version, copyright 1989, 1995 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

The Bible in a Year – 22 November

If this is your first viewing, please see my Introduction before reading this.

22 November. Luke chapters 19-20

This is the turning point in Luke’s story of the life of Jesus – what is called the Triumphal Entry. Every year on Palm Sunday, churches re-enact his ride into Jerusalem on a young donkey, with crowds cheering him on with shouts of “Hosanna!” (“Please save us!”). We even keep small crosses made of palm leaves to remind us for the rest of the year both of his joyful entry to the holy city, and also his crucifixion a few days later.

After entering the city, Jesus goes straight to the temple (did he ride the donkey into it? – we don’t know) and begins to drive out “those who were selling things there” (other gospel writers say it was the money changers – probably both). He was angry with them for turning what was supposed to be a “house of prayer” into a commercial enterprise. This passage is sometimes used to criticise those cathedrals that charge an entry fee, although I don’t think it’s a fair comparison, as the cathedral chapter is only trying to cover its running costs from visitors who otherwise might not make a donation at all.

So we have Jesus being acclaimed by the crowd in great joy, then maybe an hour later angrily confronting the temple merchants. What made him change his mood so swiftly?

In between these two passages are a few verses that get less attention in Holy Week observances. “As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, ‘If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.” (19:41-44).

It seems that as he approached the city walls, he was given a prophetic insight into the spiritual truth behind the immediate events around him. He saw the Roman army marching against the city, laying siege, conquering, looting and setting fire to it. His own act of driving profiteering merchants from the temple court was nothing to the sacking of the city that the Romans would accomplish a generation later, driving all the Jewish people from the city. It would be nearly 2000 years before the city was once again the City of David, and even then the temple site would be in the control of others.

Jesus also understood that this would happen because his own people had rejected him, rejected his peaceful path, passed up an opportunity to turn back to God. Instead their desire for independence and their love of money and power would lead to their destruction, where he offered salvation. No wonder he wept.

Probably only those closest to Jesus in the crowd noticed his weeping, as the praise continued around him. Sometimes we find our own emotions at odds with the people around, when we are aware of circumstances beyond the immediate events that give us concern. We might wish that those who are rejoicing at some trivial matter would share our understanding that there are deeper and graver issues at stake. But like Jesus, we find ourselves alone. In such circumstances, take heart, for he is with you, and he understands. Jesus weeps with those who weep, and mourns with those who mourn.