A Palm Sunday reflection

A Palm Sunday reflection

Some years ago now, shortly after the overthrow of the Ceausescu government, Janet and I were in Bucharest, the capital of Romania. The bullet holes were still on the walls of the main buildings, including the Orthodox Churches in the centre of the city. It was just before Easter and we witnessed Palm Sunday being celebrated by people who were still nervous about anyone watching what they were doing and especially if they were carrying a camera. On the streets and outside the Churches, vendors were selling or giving away huge palm fronds, not the small palm crosses which we use but cuttings of a size which out-measured the young children who were attracted to them. Beautifully decorated Easter eggs were available too.
I have thought about that day every year as Easter approaches. I am one of those people who enjoys the short interviews of well-known people or men and women of note. which appear in some magazines They often include the question ‘what other time or age do you wish you had been there to witness?’ The original Palm Sunday is one of several I would choose if I was asked that question.

What would it have been like on the first Palm Sunday? The accounts in the three Synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark and Luke) are remarkably similar. I am in no doubt that this was an actual historical event. Many have tried to recreate the scene in paintings, e.g. Norman Adams, or have attempted to present the scene in terms of our own culture Dinah Roe Kendall (copies of both we will try to have on display in Church over the Easter festival). There are others too of which you may know.

But I wonder? What was it like to be there? Our view of a huge crowd I suspect would be rather different from that in Jerusalem (although maybe not in Rome where the Coliseum held tens of thousands of people). And still I wonder, the sights, the smells, the noises, how did the word spread? And especially, amidst the rejoicing and acclamation that we read and sing about, was there any fear or apprehension? However big the crowds, had these people any inkling of the drama that was about to unfold? And what about the premonitions of the disciples and other followers of Jesus? They were in the know, so to speak, but could they foresee the consequences? Great crowds, a journey on a donkey, cloaks strewn on the road ahead, palm fronds being waved and great shouts of ‘Hosanna’. So much to think about and so much to find out if we could rewind time.

But, in the end, what matters is not the historical detail. Interesting as it would have been to be there and to have witnessed what went on. What matters, for me, are two things. Jesus, steadfastly, whatever the cost, setting out on a short journey which he knew, I am sure, could only end in one way and yet with hope, faith and determination in his heart. And a group of people, no matter how many and how knowledgeable, determined too to walk with him and to receive him, with joy.

Ken Wales

Some years ago now, shortly after the overthrow of the Ceausescu government, Janet and I were in Bucharest, the capital of Romania. The bullet holes were still on the walls of the main buildings, including the Orthodox Churches in the centre of the city. It was just before Easter and we witnessed Palm Sunday being celebrated by people who were still nervous about anyone watching what they were doing and especially if they were carrying a camera. On the streets and outside the Churches, vendors were selling or giving away huge palm fronds, not the small palm crosses which we use but cuttings of a size which out-measured the young children who were attracted to them. Beautifully decorated Easter eggs were available too. I have thought about that day every year as Easter approaches. I am one of those people who enjoys the short interviews of well-known people or men and women of note. which appear in some magazines They often include the question ‘what other time or age do you wish you had been there to witness?’ The original Palm Sunday is one of several I would choose if I was asked that question. What would it have been like on the first Palm Sunday? The accounts in the three Synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark and Luke) are remarkably similar. I am in no doubt that this was an actual historical event. Many have tried to recreate the scene in paintings, e.g. Norman Adams, or have attempted to present the scene in terms of our own culture Dinah Roe Kendall (copies of both we will try to have on display in Church over the Easter festival). There are others too of which you may know. But I wonder? What was it like to be there? Our view of a huge crowd I suspect would be rather different from that in Jerusalem (although maybe not in Rome where the Coliseum held tens of thousands of people). And still I wonder, the sights, the smells, the noises, how did the word spread? And especially, amidst the rejoicing and acclamation that we read and sing about, was there any fear or apprehension? However big the crowds, had these people any inkling of the drama that was about to unfold? And what about the premonitions of the disciples and other followers of Jesus? They were in the know, so to speak, but could they foresee the consequences? Great crowds, a journey on a donkey, cloaks strewn on the road ahead, palm fronds being waved and great shouts of ‘Hosanna’. So much to think about and so much to find out if we could rewind time. But, in the end, what matters is not the historical detail. Interesting as it would have been to be there and to have witnessed what went on. What matters, for me, are two things. Jesus, steadfastly, whatever the cost, setting out on a short journey which he knew, I am sure, could only end in one way and yet with hope, faith and determination in his heart. And a group of people, no matter how many and how knowledgeable, determined too to walk with him and to receive him, with joy. Ken Wales