Palm Sunday.  Here we are at last.  At Holy Week. Do you feel tired?  It’s been quite a Lent hasn’t it. And all these new changes and regulations.  Real tiring. And so we can have a taste of what Jesus felt like. Often we think: it’s his moment of glory.  It’s his first experience of triumph.  But I don’t think so.  Sitting on the donkey on the Mount of Olives, looking down and across to Jerusalem on the other side of the steep-sided valley, eyes drawn to the Stone Temple towering over all things, House of His Father and nest of his enemies - watching all the people growing in excited murmur and shouts, climbing up and pulling or cutting off palm branches in order to get their place and loudly acclaim him as liberator from the might of the Romans, excited also by his signs - and getting most of the meaning wrong of what he was about to do: yes.  Seeing all these things, and anticipating the trial of the week ahead - I think Jesus was tired.

But he didn’t let this slow him down or stop him.  Not for a second. Instead they brought the ass and the colt, and put their garments on them, and he sat thereon.  This is the first lesson for us today: to enter into this fatigue of the Lord, to thank and love him for it - but to also enter the total confidence he had in His Father to arrange every future detail exactly as was best for Jesus and for each of us.  And with courage and faith and a huge love, to make each next step.

A second point is that this Week of Weeks had been long prepared by God the Father.  Somehow, for example, the prophet Isaiah is able to precisely describe the passion the saviour would undergo 600 years earlier: For my part, I made no resistance, neither did I turn away.  I offered my back to those who struck me, my cheeks to those who tore at my beard; I did not cover my face against insult and spittle.  It’s a pretty important thing to think about, and you need to start if you haven’t already.  Almighty God let people rip out his beard by the roots. He stood patiently as they shucked gobs of their spit onto his forehead, cheeks, eyes and mouth.  He stayed patiently silent as his body bucked and warped as they raked the flesh out of his back. All for love. This is not a time when we can ask does God love me.  My friends, just look and think.  And weep.

For its our sins which cause this.  Our sins, my friends, is not love. Our sins are greed and careless selfishness.  We have a lot to repent for. A lot of lack of love to make up for. And yet it is him here who is doing this for us in our place - because we ourselves are not capable of it.  So much does he make up for us.

This is the message of this Palm Sunday my friends: don’t waste this week.  It’s not just an event in the calendar.  Right now, we are at the central axis of all space and time.  Baptised into Christ, we are now there present with him for every moment of the rest of this week.  Look at him and accompany him. When he is anxious, comfort him with your arm. When he is spat on, wipe away the spit.  When he trips, help him with his cross. And as he lies pinned there on the cross, with his heart gaping open for all to see, drink generously from the blood and water which gushes forth from his heart.  Love him back in all these ways - and prepare to participate in the cataclysm of His salvation.

Let us pray:

Almighty ever-living God,

who as an example of humility for the human race to follow

caused our Saviour to take flesh and submit to the Cross,

graciously grant that we may heed his lesson of patient suffering

and so merit a share in his Resurrection.

Who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,

one God, for ever and ever.