In many ways the church I go to is great. However, having spent many happy years in a High Anglican Community prior to moving to Bristol and joining a local independent church, I do miss the liturgy and theater of those ‘High’ days, especially around the major Christian festivals. No processions or palm waving for us, just a brief acknowledgment of Palm Sunday shoehorned into a talk about Daniel in the lion’s den – sounds odd, but actually it did work.
Anyway, my daughter is now of the age were she can take part in the children’s activities on a Sunday morning, so I thought I’d ask her if she had a story about Jesus riding on a donkey and people waving palm branches. ‘No’, she said. ‘We had a snack and I did some sticking.’
I was kind of disappointed. I’m no a full-on Christian parent who’s keen to proselytize my daughter into the faith that sustains me, but I am keen that she is helped to discover and learn the narratives of the Christian tradition and so be given the opportunity to encounter God for herself through them.
I decided that I’d tell her the story myself before bedtime. However, while thoughts about how best to tell the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem were preoccupying me, my daughter was obsessed by another question: ‘Who’s Anna?’