Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Today’s text

Mark 11:7-10


Then they took the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on its back, and he mounted it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others greenery which they had cut in the fields. And those who went in front and those who followed were all shouting, 'Hosanna! Blessed is he who is coming in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of David our father! Hosanna in the highest heavens!'

Reflection

Those who shouted praise to God along the road had seen others ride into Jerusalem. Roman legions had marched into the city to take control, some riding snorting steeds, swords clattering as their horses climbed the rough road.

No one shouted praise to God for them. They came to occupy and pacify the population for the glory and enrichment of Rome. Power was their game, fear and force their way.

Then you come, Jesus, not on a snorting steed but a gentle young animal, and people throw their cloaks on the road and wave green branches from the trees, a symbol of peace, life and growth.

I remember the ancient story of Noah. Surviving the flood on his boat, he sends out a dove which returns with an olive branch, a sign of peace. The struggle with death had passed. The unruly waters would soon recede to their proper boundaries, and life could begin once more. A new start, a fresh beginning.

Ancient prophets, too, spoke of a king who would come humbly, mounted on a gentle beast instead of a war horse, to bring peace to a world accustomed to war and fear.

But our souls never become totally accustomed to fear and war. You created us in love to share the goodness of you who are the Source of all good, to share this good earth and whatever sweetness of grace we know in this life.

We are created for communion in such joy, and we hunger for deliverance from whatever powers, fears and bondage prevent our entry into the life for which our hearts long.

This is ancient, not new. The souls who watched you enter the city on a gentle beast felt it just as much as we.

Perhaps they looked at you riding into town and remembered the old prophesies and perhaps even old Noah.

But they didn’t need to remember any of this to be moved to joy and praise. They needed only to look at you and listen to their hearts to know that the communion of peace for which human hearts long was right there, on the dusty road.

The world and their hearts could begin again.

Make me a person of your humble peace.

Pr. David L. Miller

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