Everybody loves a parade. Something to celebrate; something to shout about. Whether it is in Notting Hill or on Copa Cobana’s famous beach, a parade or carnival brings the crowds out to dance and sing and strut their stuff. The one we’re remembering this Sunday was a little different.
For a start, it was in a place that hadn’t seen much in the way of carnivals in previous years. The people there hadn’t much to write home about, languishing as they were under the oppressor’s boot. Fair enough, there was an historic festival taking place that week and it did commemorate a famous release. And then there was the focal point of the carnival – just the one float and a strange one at that.
A young Jewish woodcutter, feet dangling down the back of a young ass, solemn and serious-faced, surrounded by a crowd of screaming revellers, waving tree branches and palm-fronds and throwing their clothes down in the roadway. “Save!” they’re shouting in Hebrew; “Save, we pray!” It could almost be a party from the local Prudential!
You’ve recognised the event by now, of course. Palm Sunday, the “Triumphal Entry” of Jesus into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey. The Messiah who brought peace and new life to his followers, not riding a conquering war-horse but a simple mule and so fulfilling the old prophecies from the scriptures. A red letter day for Jerusalem, to be sure.
But those same crowds who shouted “Hosanna!” on Sunday shouted “Crucify!” on Friday and the followers who welcomed the Son of David to save them were now a howling mob baying for his blood. Such is the fickleness of fortune and fate observe the commentators. Those who love you one moment hate you the next and people’s views and opinions shift like the blowing of the wind.
Politicians the world over have discovered there are none so fickle as the public and the loyalists who vote Republican one year vote Democrat the next whilst conservative hard-liners quickly change to socialist sympathisers depending on who offers the better deal. A cynical viewpoint you might think but one so often bourn out in reality. Who can you trust?
If it really was up to Fate and Fortune, I would say trust no one and don’t depend on anything because it will only let you down. However, the One who rode a donkey and broke a loaf and prayed a prayer and bore a lash and hung on a cross didn’t do any of that on a whim or at the mercy of chance. He knew where he was going and he knew what he was doing because it was written in the past and planned from the beginning. None of it happened by accident and none of it was dependent on the fickleness of human whim.
Next time you’re a victim of circumstance and the so-called vagaries of chance remember Someone Somewhere has a plan and, if you choose, you can be part of it. The following words hang on the wall of my house: I alone know the plans I have for you, plans to bring you prosperity and not disaster, plans to bring about the future you hope for.
No comments:
Post a Comment