i-Llan: 13th April 2025 – a reflection for Palm Sunday

A reflection on welcome and the practice of gladness.

The Palm Sunday readings are here.

You can read Malcolm Guite’s reflection and sonnet for Palm Sunday, which speaks of the ‘Jerusalem of the heart’, here.

I find this prayer, a litany of the disciples of the servant, a helpful meditation for Holy Week.

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Transcript

Welcome to i-Llan, a podcast connecting faith, life and scripture. This episode reflects on the delight of welcoming Jesus on Palm Sunday.

I’ve just enjoyed a perfect spring day in a castle by the sea. Built as a defensive fortress, the castle is now open and welcoming. The moat is dry, the drawbridge fixed in place and no sign of a portcullis. The notice at the gate welcomes visitors. Beyond, there’s an inviting view of tables and chairs set out for tea on the lawn, and the tea room ladies are bright and cheerful. 

This Palm Sunday, at the start of Holy Week, Jesus rides towards the gate of a fortified city, Jerusalem. As people gather around him, it turns into a joyful welcome:
 ‘the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying, ‘Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!’ (Luke 19. 37,38)

How I like to imagine myself joining in that joyful welcome of my Lord! 

Not everyone was so welcoming though: Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!” (Luke 19. 39). And by the end of the week, people were shouting, ‘Crucify him’.

And so I find myself asking how truly I welcome Jesus. It’s easy to welcome the cute baby of Bethlehem. But what about the man who calls his followers to ‘take up their cross’? I may ‘talk the talk’, but how well do I ‘walk the walk’ of the way of sacrifice?

As the priest-poet, Malcolm Guite, asks:
 Now to the gate of my Jerusalem,
 The seething holy city of my heart,
 The saviour comes. But will I welcome him?

As I ponder the implications of welcoming Jesus, I am prompted to ask, ‘who and what do I welcome into my life?’

I imagine that few welcome the turmoil and anxiety of recent days. But do I respond by welcoming anger, gossip or vilification of those I hold responsible? 

When faced with new and potentially threatening situations, do I retreat inside myself and pull up my metaphorical drawbridge? Or do I risk being vulnerable and open to whatever benefits or opportunities they might present?

How welcoming am I when people irritate me, interrupt me, need things from me, criticise me?

These are questions to reflect on during Holy Week. But, on this joyful Palm Sunday, I want to suggest that one defence against unhealthy defensiveness is gladness.

Gladness practised as a habit of giving attention to all that is good, true, beautiful, and ‘well come’, however mundane.

Gladness practised by standing stubbornly against the messages of doom and gloom, not ignoring them but refusing to allow them to have the last word. 

Gladness practised by saying with a long-ago poet, ‘Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever. The Lord is my strength and my defence; he has become my salvation. Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!’ (Psalm 118. 1, 14, 26)

Or, as these words from American poet, Jack Gilbert, (quoted by Elizabeth Gilbert in her book, Big Magic ) express it:We must risk delight. We must have the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless furnace of the world. 

Such gladness can exist alongside sorrow, as the joy of resurrection exists alongside the grief of Good Friday. For, in Christ, the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. (John 1. 5) 

Inside the walls of that castle, children and parents were laughing over a game of tennis, grandparents were calming a fretful toddler, the agile were exploring steep spiral stairs, the less agile relaxing in the sunshine with a cup of tea.

Outside, a path leads down to the beach and the wild beauty of the coast. Seabirds wheeled in the blue, waves washed over pebbles in the unceasing rhythm of the tides, wild garlic scented the air, gorse and blackthorn delighted the eye, chiff chaff and robin competed in song, walkers and dogs set out eagerly along the coastal path.

Yesterday, I welcomed the delight of a perfect spring day in a castle by the sea. 

Today, I welcome with gladness the king who rides humbly to the gates of the city. 

This week, how will you accept gladness in the ruthless furnace of the world? 
 What will you notice with delight?
 Who and what will you welcome in the name of the Lord?

So my prayer:

In a despairing world, may you risk delight.
 In a hostile world, may you risk being welcoming.
 In a world which crucifies truth, 
 may you risk following the one who is the Way, the Truth and the Life.
 So may Christ welcome you as his true disciple. Amen.