Hosanna
Here is a Palm Sunday story - I hope it encourages you wherever you're at today. This idea came directly from a poem I read last week by Kaitlin Shetler - I must credit her for this idea which has been very meaningful to me.
Here's my Palm Sunday fictional story:
My favourite day is the one where I get a break, a little time to myself. I’m a slave girl in Jerusalem, and I work hard all day until my fingers bleed and my hair is soaked with sweat. I fall into bed each night, exhausted, but I’m also glad to have a kind master and a place to sleep.
On this day, the sun was shining and the sky was clear and blue. And it was my day. I heard a rumour that something special was happening in the city, so I headed out to see what was going on. Wow, I hadn’t seen a crowd like that in ages. Maybe ever. I heard cheering up ahead and I ducked out from behind a slow moving family so I could take a short cut behind the temple to speed my journey.
My master’s husband is a very important ruler in the temple. He had been talking every evening about a Rabbi who seemed to be shaking things up quite a bit in Jerusalem, and actually all around the area. Some say he’s the Messiah, even. Can you imagine? The Messiah, in my day and age? Probably not, but it’s exciting to think about. Apparently he has been responsible for many amazing things, like turning water into wine at a wedding, healing people, and even feeding a huge crowd from just one boy’s lunch. Every night, I hear Nicodemus talking with other scribes and leaders in the main room, with hushed tones about the future and the government and the new King, and the Messiah. He seems to be the only one who actually likes this new Rabbi a bit, although sometimes even he seems a bit exasperated with it all.
The other night, I was laying in my bed when I heard footsteps near our house. I got up and quietly peeked over the wall to see Nicodemus heading out somewhere. Now, there are a lot of good things about me, but minding my own business…not so much. I just HAD to know where he was going. Lucky for me, I’m quick and I know how to be quiet. I snuck out the side entrance and followed him from a distance, hiding in bushes or around corners. When he finally approached a home, he tapped and then entered, looking around to make sure no one was watching him. I hurried to catch up and knelt down outside the wall to try to hear what they were talking about. From what I could tell, Nicodemus told him that he knew he was a teacher from God, and from there the whole conversation seemed to just go down hill. They were talking about babies being born again and the Kingdom of God and Spirit and the wind. Nicodemus seemed as confused as I was, and asked him what he meant. But then the Teacher went on some more about Moses and it sounded to me like he was kind of critical to Nicodemus for not figuring it all out, which bothered me a bit, because my master’s husband is a very kind and smart man.
After Nicodemus went home, I stayed outside that house for awhile. I don’t know why, I just felt like it was a special place. Something about the Rabbi’s voice made chills go up and down my arms and filled me with a warm peaceful sensation. I looked up at the stars and I thought about God and the stories I had always heard about God’s love. The Teacher had said that God had loved the world so much that he gave his only son and if people believed in him they would live forever. I wondered who the son would be.
That thought stayed with me in the following days, and I heard a number of conversations or statements about the Rabbi named Jesus. Most were convinced he was going to be our new King which sounded pretty great to me, even though that wasn’t what I picked up on from the conversation with Nicodemus.
I finally reached the crowd and was so disappointed that it was impossible to see what was going on. People were shouting and yelling and waving palm branches, with smiles so wide and joy radiating from every face. What were they so happy about? I saw a woman with some branches and reached out to take one so I could wave it too but she frowned at me and handed them to someone else instead. I just wanted to be a part of it all. I moved further down the road, hoping to get a glimpse of what was going on. A woman asked me what was going on, and when I told her I had no idea, for some reason we both grinned at each other and I felt strange tears sliding down my cheeks. I think they were happy tears. A child nearby us said the new King was coming. My heart leapt! Was it the Rabbi? People were laying their cloaks and robes on the road for the new King to ride upon, but I didn’t have a cloak or a wrap or anything to lay on the road. Eventually I realized what people were shouting around me, ‘Hosanna, Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord’. I joined in the shouting, feeling my heart filling up with hope and expectation. Could this be the One? Could this King finally save our people from our oppression? I wished with all my heart that he could see me, that he could save me too.
After a little while of straining to see, while being jostled from side to side, the crowd was just too much for me. I had no branch or cloak and my voice was hoarse from shouting. Whoever was coming couldn’t see me anyway, I realized. In a sudden moment, I felt lonely and alone in a sea of people. The tears changed from joy to sadness, realizing the freedom wouldn’t be for me anyway. The royal King would still need slave girls to wash the floor.
I weaved my way out of the crowd to a gate a few blocks away where I like to sit sometimes and watch the people. I tucked myself into my little hidden spot and wrapped my arms around myself for some comfort. I didn’t know how much time passed as I sat and pondered all that had happened. I realized I was hungry and cold.
As I started to stand, a man came up beside me and held a branch out to me. Not a palm branch like from the parade, but what looked like a fig tree branch. It was withered and little more than an old stick. I didn’t even look at his face but pushed the branch aside. The man bent down to be at my level and said, ‘child, have faith in God, he will not fail you.’ My eyes widened as I recognized the voice of the Rabbi and I looked up. “Hope does not come from Hosanna, and peace does not come from procession, but from painful times, withering, tears, questions, and a lot of waiting. Keep believing and wondering and hoping. Seek me and you will find me, when you seek me with all your heart. I am always with you.”
I took the withered branch he offered me and nodded, looking full into his eyes. Hope was here.
Here's my Palm Sunday fictional story:
My favourite day is the one where I get a break, a little time to myself. I’m a slave girl in Jerusalem, and I work hard all day until my fingers bleed and my hair is soaked with sweat. I fall into bed each night, exhausted, but I’m also glad to have a kind master and a place to sleep.
On this day, the sun was shining and the sky was clear and blue. And it was my day. I heard a rumour that something special was happening in the city, so I headed out to see what was going on. Wow, I hadn’t seen a crowd like that in ages. Maybe ever. I heard cheering up ahead and I ducked out from behind a slow moving family so I could take a short cut behind the temple to speed my journey.
My master’s husband is a very important ruler in the temple. He had been talking every evening about a Rabbi who seemed to be shaking things up quite a bit in Jerusalem, and actually all around the area. Some say he’s the Messiah, even. Can you imagine? The Messiah, in my day and age? Probably not, but it’s exciting to think about. Apparently he has been responsible for many amazing things, like turning water into wine at a wedding, healing people, and even feeding a huge crowd from just one boy’s lunch. Every night, I hear Nicodemus talking with other scribes and leaders in the main room, with hushed tones about the future and the government and the new King, and the Messiah. He seems to be the only one who actually likes this new Rabbi a bit, although sometimes even he seems a bit exasperated with it all.
The other night, I was laying in my bed when I heard footsteps near our house. I got up and quietly peeked over the wall to see Nicodemus heading out somewhere. Now, there are a lot of good things about me, but minding my own business…not so much. I just HAD to know where he was going. Lucky for me, I’m quick and I know how to be quiet. I snuck out the side entrance and followed him from a distance, hiding in bushes or around corners. When he finally approached a home, he tapped and then entered, looking around to make sure no one was watching him. I hurried to catch up and knelt down outside the wall to try to hear what they were talking about. From what I could tell, Nicodemus told him that he knew he was a teacher from God, and from there the whole conversation seemed to just go down hill. They were talking about babies being born again and the Kingdom of God and Spirit and the wind. Nicodemus seemed as confused as I was, and asked him what he meant. But then the Teacher went on some more about Moses and it sounded to me like he was kind of critical to Nicodemus for not figuring it all out, which bothered me a bit, because my master’s husband is a very kind and smart man.
After Nicodemus went home, I stayed outside that house for awhile. I don’t know why, I just felt like it was a special place. Something about the Rabbi’s voice made chills go up and down my arms and filled me with a warm peaceful sensation. I looked up at the stars and I thought about God and the stories I had always heard about God’s love. The Teacher had said that God had loved the world so much that he gave his only son and if people believed in him they would live forever. I wondered who the son would be.
That thought stayed with me in the following days, and I heard a number of conversations or statements about the Rabbi named Jesus. Most were convinced he was going to be our new King which sounded pretty great to me, even though that wasn’t what I picked up on from the conversation with Nicodemus.
I finally reached the crowd and was so disappointed that it was impossible to see what was going on. People were shouting and yelling and waving palm branches, with smiles so wide and joy radiating from every face. What were they so happy about? I saw a woman with some branches and reached out to take one so I could wave it too but she frowned at me and handed them to someone else instead. I just wanted to be a part of it all. I moved further down the road, hoping to get a glimpse of what was going on. A woman asked me what was going on, and when I told her I had no idea, for some reason we both grinned at each other and I felt strange tears sliding down my cheeks. I think they were happy tears. A child nearby us said the new King was coming. My heart leapt! Was it the Rabbi? People were laying their cloaks and robes on the road for the new King to ride upon, but I didn’t have a cloak or a wrap or anything to lay on the road. Eventually I realized what people were shouting around me, ‘Hosanna, Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord’. I joined in the shouting, feeling my heart filling up with hope and expectation. Could this be the One? Could this King finally save our people from our oppression? I wished with all my heart that he could see me, that he could save me too.
After a little while of straining to see, while being jostled from side to side, the crowd was just too much for me. I had no branch or cloak and my voice was hoarse from shouting. Whoever was coming couldn’t see me anyway, I realized. In a sudden moment, I felt lonely and alone in a sea of people. The tears changed from joy to sadness, realizing the freedom wouldn’t be for me anyway. The royal King would still need slave girls to wash the floor.
I weaved my way out of the crowd to a gate a few blocks away where I like to sit sometimes and watch the people. I tucked myself into my little hidden spot and wrapped my arms around myself for some comfort. I didn’t know how much time passed as I sat and pondered all that had happened. I realized I was hungry and cold.
As I started to stand, a man came up beside me and held a branch out to me. Not a palm branch like from the parade, but what looked like a fig tree branch. It was withered and little more than an old stick. I didn’t even look at his face but pushed the branch aside. The man bent down to be at my level and said, ‘child, have faith in God, he will not fail you.’ My eyes widened as I recognized the voice of the Rabbi and I looked up. “Hope does not come from Hosanna, and peace does not come from procession, but from painful times, withering, tears, questions, and a lot of waiting. Keep believing and wondering and hoping. Seek me and you will find me, when you seek me with all your heart. I am always with you.”
I took the withered branch he offered me and nodded, looking full into his eyes. Hope was here.
Comments
Post a Comment