It was hot and dusty, getting close to sunset. The crowds were thickening as though there were some force drawing them to the roads. Snatches and whispers were heard: “Messiah”, “many miracles”, “glory to God”, “Savior”, “King”, “Yeshuah“, “Yahweh saves”.
Children scurrying through and under legs, people pushing, and straining to hear. The throng was beginning to reach a fever pitch.
What would he do? Where would he go? Can we touch him? Will he speak? Then suddenly all came to a stand still.
What was he telling his followers; something about a donkey? Oh, memory don’t fail me now! Zechariah! The King comes riding on the foal of a donkey! This is truly it, the Messiah has come!
The whispering increased – the buzz was almost a roaring wind. Coats were being removed and branches were being collected.
As the mass began to move again someone began to shout: “Hoshanna! Hoshanna!” At first, it rang out like the clear bell of a single voice and carried as a song on the breeze. Then others picked up the cry and it became a swell, a toll of bells ringing in succession.
Singing Psalm 118 the crowd swelled up the hill throwing cloaks and branches in front of him.
It was a glorious day!