A donkey, cloaks and Palm branches!
Palm Sunday.
As a child I loved that day:
So full of joy and shouts
Of acclamation.
I wondered why each hymn we sang
seemed to echo with darkness and death.
These days I see Palm Sunday
And that gentle donkey,
As a sad comment on humanity.
We don’t really know what we want,
We go with the crowd,
We don’t stop to think,
We forget;
Especially we forget
The lonely figure on the Cross,
As we decide what is right or wrong in church.
He weeps
Not for himself
But for us.
For the tangles we make,
For the hurts we cause
For our failure to see
Beyond ourselves.
These days I no longer see the Triumphant entry
Quite as I did as a child,
Because I see the fickleness of the crowd
And
The sadness of the man
Who longed to gather us all
Under his wings
And keep us safe
But we would not.
So we pray
Forgive us
Gentle Saviour
Open our eyes, our hearts
Our minds.
Forgive us
As the robber beside you
Was forgiven.
Father Forgive
Hazel Parsons
Reading: Luke 13: 31-35
SthF 265. Ride on ride on in majesty
