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Palm Sunday

The Donkey
by
G. K. Chesterton
When fishes flew and forests walked,
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood,
Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry,
And ears like errant wings,
The devil’s walking parody
Of all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient, crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.

Although our Lenten journey is drawing to an end, Palm Sunday marks a beginning, to this most Holy of weeks in the Christian Calendar.  Jesus makes his entrance into Jerusalem, riding on a donkey to shouts of ‘Hosanna to the Son of David’!

The last time scripture tells us Jesus made an entrance on a donkey was from Nazareth into Bethlehem, carried in the womb of his mother Mary.

Once again, this beast of burden is entrusted with carrying the Lord. Steadfast, humble, simple; a stark contrast to the crowds, so fickle and fleeting with their cries of support, shouts of encouragement, the chorus of ‘Hosanna to the Son of David.’  We know that these cries will become those of; ‘Crucify him!’ before the week is out.

Where do we stand among this Palm Sunday crowd?  Are we spectators who enjoy the sense of occasion, the procession, the palms, not oblivious to the raised intensity that the beginning of Holy Week brings yet at the same time uninvested?

Or are we true disciples, albeit imperfect, but with the desire to journey through these days with our Lord, faithful to the end?

Icon by Dr Stéphane René