Palm Sunday is tomorrow. We conclude our week with a reflection on that theme:
There are lots of ways to describe Lent – but an important one is ‘journey’. It is a notable period of time – six and a half weeks – and each year we can get a real sense of that journey, starting on Ash Wednesday, passing Mothering Sunday, Palm Sunday, leading to the final days in Jerusalem.
During Lent, we often connect with the journey of Jesus into the desert: forty days alone with God. And that’s right, but we often miss another journey: that of Jesus to Jerusalem. It’s a significant distance: as the crow flies, it’s 80 miles from Capernaum to Jerusalem, but, avoiding Samaria (as everyone living in Capernaum at that time would normally do), it’s over 100. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus begins in ch9 and doesn’t arrive till ch19 – Luke calls it Jesus’ “Exodus” (a word laden with meaning).
And tomorrow on Palm Sunday we arrive in Jerusalem with Jesus. Over the days and weeks of the journey a large crowd has gathered, and they’re all waiting to see what Jesus is going to do next. There’s a sense of awe, of growing excitement…. Perhaps we can imagine ourselves being caught up with it all, the nervous tension, the sense of not knowing. Perhaps we can feel the disappointment of the crowds when Jesus doesn’t begin a political revolution, the sadness at his betrayal and abandonment.
Palm Sunday always brings with it such mixed emotions. We know what went before, but also what lies ahead.
This is not just a historical event 2,000 years ago. As we celebrate Palm Sunday every year, Jesus comes, in a real sense, to a city near us. And the challenge is the same: can you see him?
This was the question I asked the schoolchildren at some of my Easter assemblies this year: what do you see? There’s a difference between looking and seeing – we can look, but not see…
…not least because the cultural ‘noise’ grows greater every year; we cram our modern lives with so much stuff, particularly at Easter. Easter is get-aways and get-togethers, sales and spring cleans, holiday clubs and gardens dug. And, in the midst of it all, this gentle chap rides into town on one of the slowest, quietest modes of transport – a donkey. We still have to crane our necks to see him, with all the other stuff in the way. He doesn’t use a megaphone or brandish a sword to compel our attention. He just arrives.
We know the end of the story – but sometimes that’s not such a good thing. We can make it safe, predictable. After all, how much can a guy on a donkey do…?
As we look ahead to the coming week, let’s keep this question in mind, and may the Lord bless us once more as we earnestly look for the answer: Jesus comes to your city, your town, your village – can you see him?