Palm Sunday--Holy Week Begins

Yesterday was Palm Sunday. Ah, I knew this time would draw me back to last June, those too-few days in that enchanted, mysterious, captivating country of Israel.

2000 years ago, the Gospels tell us, as they walked towards Jerusalem, Jesus sent a couple of his disciples ahead of Him to borrow a donkey. Some scholars believe the donkey to be a beast of peace, as opposed to my beloved horses, often depicted as animals of war.

Other descriptions of Christ in the New Testament have him riding a white stallion, indeed, leading the soldiers of righteousness to a final battle. But, before that victory, the humble donkey carried the Lamb to the city where His sacrifice would happen.

The disciples said to the donkey's owner, who, of course, had questions about people just taking their donkey away, "The Lord needs it." Apparently, that's all it took.

Jesus rode to the city via the Mount of Olives. You can see the Mount of Olives

from about anywhere in Jerusalem, or anywhere I was, and certainly from the Old City. And the people put palm fronds in front of him, calling out praises, crying over him, making the religious establishment lose their minds. It seems from the back of this humble donkey, Christ wept over Jerusalem, heartbroken for the fate He knew to come, distraught at their lack of belief. After Jesus entered Jerusalem (a model of ancient Jerusalem shown here), he dismounted the donkey, entered the temple, and threw out all the merchants there using a Holy place as a place for stealing. He had no patience for misuse of His Father's house.

This is the holiest week in Christendom. No doubt, pilgrims walk those cobbled streets this week in Jerusalem reliving those last earthly days of Christ, hearing men (and some women) with descriptive gifts far better than mine bringing to life the places and the time from 2000 years ago, crossing the years, making history present, as that ancient land so easily does.

After His

triumphal entry into Jerusalem, after His tossing merchants and money out of the Temple like so many miscreant shopkeepers, the religious leaders of His day wanted to kill Jesus even more than before....and not long afterwards, one of his closest friends betrayed Him over disappointment of expectations and the lure of silver, and those envious, ungodly religious leaders got their wish.

Or so they thought.

I wish I was there in that land that draws me back....but, even now, I close my eyes and see the desert, feel the heat, dry, dusty, ageless, reach my hands to caress the rough, ancient stones, walk the narrow streets--the very streets Jesus walked. I quietly sit.....shut out the world.....close my eyes.....remember......and I am there.