It has been as uncommon a Palm Sunday as I can recall. Born during WWII, my memory doesn’t hold a recollection of what must surely have been an atypical Palm Sunday or two. Palm Sundays that I remember as a child embraced colour. Flowers embellished the front of the church. It was a celebrative ambiance. Women wore stylish hats and pastel shaded attire to church. Those were days when men and boys wore suits, shirts and ties to church, and it was standard and it felt respectable. In the afternoon our family would drive to Niagara Falls where we would walk through the Floral Showhouse to enjoy orchids and tropical flowers.
Christine remembers Palm Sunday of her childhood in Britain with a song. Who would have guessed? I’m facetious. Her life and career has been music. “Hosanna, loud hosanna, the little children sang, through pillared court and temple the lovely anthem rang. To Jesus, who had blessed them close folded to his breast, the children sang their praises, the simplest and the best.” She remembers waiving palm fronds or other branches.
Perhaps again today our modest, isolated at home worship will be the simplest and the best adoration we can possibly offer to our Saviour. We know the outward adornment doesn’t count for much when God is looking at our hearts. Today, may the whole multitude of Christ’s disciples worldwide rejoice and praise God with loud voices for all of his mighty works and may we say, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the LORD! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!
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