Donkey Oatey makes Palm Sunday special .........

Passion Sunday was a particularly moving occasion this year.

My first in the  new parish.

Elizabeth directed a dramatic reading of St Matthew's Gospel.

The acting, from members of the congregation, was impressive and the moment when the whole congregation stood to shout 'Crucify' was electric.

Powerful stuff!

And next week we welcome, praise and shout crucify once more.

A procession, with a Donkey always helps us to enter Jerusalem with Jesus in a real way, I have strong memories of the Cathedral Choir gathering outside the Sikh Temple in Bradford and marching with the Donkey from the animal farm, through Little Germany and into the Cathedral.

Sing as we may: Ride on, Ride on we know that it is not majesty toward which the Donkey is heading or that Jesus is riding, it is to his Death on the cross. Betrayed. Abandoned. Denied.

So this year we have a Donkey named Oatey joining us for the procession.

This year I am conscious of Jesus age. 33. Too young an age to die. His mother Mary at the foot of His cross. A sword, as Simeon forecast, piercing her heart.

My son William was still in his thirties, he died too young, taken by an aggressive cancer and now he rests with his Mother in a woodland burial ground on the other side of the country.

If I reflect on his life and the impact it had on mine I feel moved and challenged. His humanity, his Love, his sonship, has over the years helped me as a Father and as a man, to become a better human being.

So we move through this life always conscious that in due course we will be called to leave it and  the manner of our leaving it will be our final testimony, certainly William left his life in a gracious and loving way offering his peace and blessing to those around his bedside.

So I look forward to Palm Sunday with these strong memories of a loving Son with sadness but I am also heartened by G K Chesterton's poem:

The Donkey
When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry
 And ears like errant wings,
The devil’s walking parody
On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.

That of course is the problem with worship too often people seem to think it is for them. 

Certainly in the marriage service in Cranmer's Book whilst the Bride promised to 'obey' the groom promised to 'Worship'.

But as a recent meme that did the rounds on social media had it:

 I didn't like the worship this morning! That's OK it wasn't you that was being worshipped!

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