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| James Tissot Procession in the streets of Jerusalem
Astride the colt and claimed as King
that Sunday morning in the spring,
He passed a thornbush flowering red
that one would plait to crown his head.
He passed a vineyard where the wine
was grown for one of royal line,
and where the dregs were also brewed
into a gall for Calvary’s rood.
A purple robe was cast his way,
then caught, and kept until that day
when, with its use, a trial would be
profaned into a mockery.
His entourage was forced to wait
to let a timber through the gate,
a shaft that all there might have known
would be an altar and a throne.
Marie J Post (American hymn writer 1919-1990) |
Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29 •
Mark 11:1-11 or John 12:12-16
Liturgy of the Word
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| Aert de Gerder (1645-1727) On the road to Golgotha |
Holy Week, we might say, is the story of two processions.
The one with which it begins is triumphant – the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem
accompanied by cheering crowds; the other a slow, immensely painful journey to
Golgotha and crucifixion, accompanied by shouts of condemnation. Uniquely on this Sunday, two Gospels are
read, and their juxtaposition reminds us that these two processions
are polar opposites of each other. It is in this sharp contrast that their
meaning lies. The first procession, marked by popular acclamation, reveals how
false and fickle the human attribution of royalty is. The second procession,
with its ironic ‘crown’ of thorns, reveals how radically different the reign of
divine love is.
Traversing the path from sin to salvation requires us to accompany
Christ with heart and mind, from Palm Sunday to Good Friday. Marie J Post's poem eloquently captures the way in which the second is
inextricably entwined with the first.
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