Palm Sunday is long. And messy.

People are messy. People doing processions are really messy. No matter how well thought out a procession may be, it’s still going to be messy, Those who do not understand what I mean by messy have never tried to get Mrs. Johnson and her ilk out of their favorite pews to be involved in the procession; someone might take their seat while they’re gone! They would rather sit stony-faced in an empty church than participate, if that’s the cost.

Participation is messy. People don’t (can’t) walk at the same pace. Trying to sing while walking is next to impossible; the pitch drops, and people in front are singing something different from what the people at the back are singing. And you can’t sing if you don’t know the words. If you’re a young mother with a toddler on one hip and a reluctant five-year-old in tow, you haven’t got enough hands to manage a worship aid, too.

But that it’s messy doesn’t mean we give up and do the Simple Entrance at every liturgy.

It does mean careful preparation of the assembly. It does mean corralling extra ushers and training them to be cheerfully informative. It does mean choosing music with an easily repeated refrain; Taizé works well. (It was written for messy crowds of sincere but often clueless pilgrims.)

If you’ve got handbells, or can borrow some, those alone will help people stay on or close to pitch and provide rhythm, too. I’m not talking about the usual handbell choir sort of thing; just roots and fifths of whatever you’re singing will work fine, and can be clearly heard outdoors. Think accent, not accompaniment.

Are folks going to be singing the whole time? Maybe not—but a good trumpet tune could provide an instrumental break. Note: they have trumpets in marching bands for a reason. And add some hand percussion, too. Just keep it simple.