Sing Hosannah!

Matthew 21:1-11
When they drew near to Jerusalem

and came to Bethphage, to the Mount of Olives,
Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them,
‘Go into the village facing you,
and immediately you will find an ass tied,
and a colt with her: untie them and bring them to me.
If anyone says anything to you, you shall say,
“The Lord has need of them,”
and he will send them immediately.’
This took place to fulfil
what was spoken by the prophet, saying,
‘Tell the daughter of Sion,
Behold, your king is coming to you,
humble, and mounted on an ass,
and on a colt, the foal of an ass.’
The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them;
they brought the ass and the colt,
and put their garments on them, and he sat thereon.
Most of the crowd spread their garments on the road,
and others cut branches from the trees
and spread them on the road.
And the crowds that went before him
and that followed him shouted,
‘Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest!’
And when he entered Jerusalem,
all the city was stirred, saying, ‘Who is this?’
And the crowds said,
‘This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth of Galilee.’


It is a Church tradition, this time of year, to cover the statues of all our saints with purple cloth and to remove the arrangements of flowers. Even in usual circumstances baptisms are not carried out in Lent and weddings would be very unusual. The Church deliberately enters an atmosphere of austerity at odds with the blossoming Spring. This sense of the dramatic often calls people back to the church to experience the theatre of Holy Week, beginning with the oh-so-slightly embarrassing celebration of Palm Sunday. Gathering in the church carpark with the hope of good weather, catching the splash of holy water, not quite hearing the reading, not quite getting the Hosanna's in sync, apart from the children, never knowing what to do with the palm leaves until someone offers to fold them into a tidy cross.

But like all good family traditions - it's the slight embarrassing ones that we miss most (who doesn't resent the year you don't get a Christmas stocking).  The church is not only austere, it is locked, and only pigeons and seagulls gather in the car park. We have been denied our custom, turned away from our 'home'. This year is different. 

That year was different. Zechariah had spoken five hundred years earlier. A long time to feel lost and forgotten. A long time to be keeping watch at the gates of Jerusalem. No wonder the behaviour of the crowd is extravagant. Why the crowd, used to watching their words and holding their breath, shout out in praise whilst at the very same time voicing the question 'Who is this?'

This is Jesus. This year we get to follow him in our everyday life. Linked still to the liturgy and ceremonies of faith through media and prayer. Perhaps more than any other year, our relationship with Jesus is enmeshed in our home, in the mundane. We can take the time to make a palm leaf or place a green branch in our window, we can choose to acknowledge Jesus in any way we decide. We can carry the story in all we do. 

This is Jesus and today he is entering my home, my life. Not for the one hour or so of a church service, but for the duration. As disciples, turning to him for guidance and reassurance in this most difficult of times. We can put away any sense of being part of the crowd, we can all say 'Hosanna' in our own way.