crowds

The whole of the primary school was along at our place this morning.

All of the pupils, from P1 right the way up: all of the teachers, from the Head right on down: and a load of parents and grand-parents, too.

The place was mobbed. Jam-packed. Standing room only. We probably contravened a few fire regulations.

But I guess Jerusalem, too, would have fallen foul of a good few safety regulations when the folk converged for the Passover. There were crowds there then. By the tens of thousands.

The end of term excitement that was written right across the children's faces depicted well the festival spirit which must have prevailed in Jerusalem long ago. The buzz and the chatter. The smiles and the laughter. The hope and expectancy.

A bit like that whole crowd of children there in the temple the day that Jesus went in and sorted it out. Excited, expectant. Singing and shouting as loud as they could, delighting in all that they saw.

It was great to have the school here. The pupils are always so good.

And the content today was bang on the buttoon as well.

None of the fuzzy, sentimental guff which generally our society seeks to stuff around this festival. Gone was the focus on chocolate and eggs. Gone were the songs about daffodils, bunnies and chicks.

This was not a festival of spring. This was all about Easter.

The songs were rehearsing what happened when Jesus came to town. The wild acclaim of the buoyant crowds as Jesus entered in. The meal that he shared with his friends: the bread and the wine. The struggle going on in the soul of the Roman governor: the shouts of the crowd, another crowd, their shouts incessant and hard, demanding the cross for the Christ. And then the final, glorious turn-around: a simple song declaring He's alive!

The whole thing so centred on this person, these events. Jesus. The cross. His being raised from the dead.

And a huge big crowd of children, staff and parents, there to sing it, share it, see it.

A crowd out there to welcome him. A crowd out there demanding he be crucified. A crowd out there this morning to rejoice in what all happened way back then.

Welcome, war, or worship. What is it that we'll meet him with? Which of the crowds are we with?

There are the 'tourists' who have gathered in the city since it is that time of year; 'tourists' with their cameras at the ready and an eye for any memories that occasions like this entry by a prophet might afford.

We see these 'tourists' ourselves, at Christmas-time not least. Festival folk. They're part of the crowd at that time of year. The welcome they give the Lord Jesus is openly warm.

But they're really passing 'tourists'. They've their own lives to live. Their own, different worlds to return to once the festival is past.

Then there are the 'punters'. A tabloid-reading populace. Society at large. People who unthinkingly (and far, far too uncritically) immerse themselves in weighted TV programmes and in all the 'info-tainment' which the papers daily push in their direction.

Their opinions shaped by others. Without their ever realising it; 'til they end up shouting Crucify! - since that's the line they're ever so persistently being fed.

Always so much to complain about. Always so much that's constricting their lives. They want to be free, to be running their lives for themselves. A people at war.

Mr and Ms Average. Another crowd. The punters on the streets of our society, who are really just the puppets and the pawns of those who hold and pull the strings of media power.

And then this crowd of children. Not clued in to all the wretched politics of all that's going on. Not concerned to understand the finer points involved.

Just glad to see in Jesus one who makes life so much fun. Who heals and helps and holds and hugs. Who tells them brilliant stories and who shows them all God's truth. Who loves them, leads them, lets them play, and lives himself a life without compare.

That much even a child can tell. They don't need to know all the answers. They don't always get it all right. They're just glad to have him around. They adore him.

Worship.

Which of the crowds are we with?