He entered the city

After Psalm 25:9, 119:81 

He entered the city

on a beast of peace,

not as a conquering hero

but a servant,

a servant who would

suffer.

 

He entered the city

to sings and rejoicing,

to waving of palms,

to cloaks laid on his path. 

The people sang hosanna

to the servant who would

suffer.

 

He smiled as he rode

his beast of peace.

He smiled to see

rejoicing, to hear

the voices cheering

and singing his way

forward.

 

He smiled because

he knew their hearts,

the hearts soon to call

for his death. And

he loved them anyway.

He loved them because.

 

Photograph by Benjamin Recinos via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Sunday Readings

 

Queen Esther’s Lot: A Poem for Purim – Margaret Coats at Society of Classical Poets.

 

Four Marks of True Revival – J.T. Reeves and Douglas Sweeney at Desiring God.

 

Feminine Emotionalism and the Evangelical Conscience – G. Shane Morris at the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood. 

Cloaks and / or palms

After Luke 19:28-40 

Four accounts of the entry,

generally aligned in the basic

details, the account of the colt

and the owner’s reaction,

traveling from the village

to the city, the welcome

by the people, the hailing

and recognition of the king,

the concern of the religious

(sensing the reaction 

of the rulers and overlords).

Yet there is one difference,

one significant difference

among the four. Three say

the people spread their cloaks,

tamping down the dust,

honoring the king. One says

they waved branches of palms,

giving the name to history.

The one is written 

by the disciple whom

he loved. Had the naming

been by democratic vote,

the decision would have

been 3 to 1 

for Cloak Sunday.

 

Photograph by Bahador via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The unridden colt

After Luke 19:28-40 

It’s still young, but

the unridden colt

has been waiting

for a particular

moment, a time

when it would be

called upon

for a specific use,

unique in history,

a one-time event

never before seen,

never since repeated,

a ride like no other,

a short distance,

uncomplicated,

to carry a man from

a village to a city.

The distance is

short; the impact

of that ride 

of that man

reverberates

through history,

forever.

 

Photograph by Benjamin Voros via Unsplash. Used with permission.

And then the palms

After Mark 1:1-11

First the colt, and then

the cloaks placed on it

as a saddle. And then 

the palms, leafy branches

cut from trees, strewn

in front of the colt

he rides along the way,

And then the singing,

the psalms of praise

carried by the wind,

a synchronized shout

of worship, the people

thinking he is 

the messiah,

the promised one,

the earthly messiah

come to deliver them

from earthly oppressors,

to bring them into freedom,

the exodus from pharaoh.

Shouts and noise rise

together, a misunderstanding 

of what he was about.

The colt knew.

The colt knew enough

to serve its purpose.

Photograph by Augustine Wong via Unsplash. Used with permission.

And then the cloaks

After Mark 1:1-11

First the colt, found

where they were told

it would be found. Then

the questions, as they

were told they would

be questioned. And 

then the delivery 

of the unridden colt

to its new master,

And then the cloaks.

They placed their cloaks

on the colt, a makeshift

saddle, a saddle 

of honor, a saddle

of worship.

Photograph by Sheri Hooley via Unsplash. Used with permission.

First, a colt

After Mark 1:1-11

It’s first the story

of a colt (some say

a donkey), a colt

toed and waiting

patiently for its

master. Except

this day, its master

would be unexpected,

a new master and

a new way, a man

who sent two disciples 

ahead to find the animal,

precisely where he said

it would be. No one 

had yet to sit

on the colt, ever;

this colt had been

set aside for a task,

a sacred task, 

a task and an act 

to be remembered

for all time.

The master knew 

the colt, down

to the smallest detail.

Photograph by Sheri Hooley via Unsplash. Used with permission.