It was on the Sunday

It was on the Sunday that he took on the city.

Religious freaks usually appear in the desert urging folk to come into
the open air and find God through getting back to nature.
God, you see, doesn't live in the city.
He prefers the smell of a garden to that of a gutter.
He likes to see children jumping creeks, not raking through garbage bins.
And far better in his eyes are lovers lounging in the long grass than
cramped up in a single bed.

The city is for sin. God doesn't go there.

The Lord is my Shepherd,
not my social worker.
He makes me to lie down in green pastures,
not shrinks' couches.
He leads me beside still waters,
not trickles of urine from a drunk's bladder.
And on the mountains are the peace messenger's feet beautiful,
not in the middle of the road.

It was on the Sunday that he took on the city.

From: Stages on the Way

Just a note: this is not meant to be read literally - it is irony reflecting how Jesus entered the city of Jerusalem and how he turns our religiosity on it's head.