With our Jewish forebears singing at Passover, and with countless Catholic generations, at every Mass we cry to the Lord, “we beseech You, save us! … hôšîʿâ-nā!”. This Sunday we say “Hosanna” with a difference. On that first Palm Sunday, pilgrims swarmed the holy city, swelling its numbers to a million. As they walked to the city they sang the Songs of Ascent ascribed to David and Solomon. But this time they suddenly saw someone not walking, but rather swaying, head and shoulders above the crowds. It was the famous Jesus, who had raised quatriduum dead Lazarus, riding the foal of an ass like Solomon of old (1 Kings 1). The Jews knew their Scripture. They recognised the fulfilment of the prophecy of Zechariah 9:9-10: a king had come. Since kings were anointed, the moshiach had come to Zion. They were ready for the next step. The messiah, the Davidic high priest king, would enter Jerusalem and offer sacrifice at the massive four-horned bronze altar of the Temple. So they switched to sing the verses of the Hallel Psalm 118, sung during the slaughter of the quarter million lambs and the Passover meal: