The Gospel: Matthew 21:1-11
When they neared Jerusalem, having arrived at Bethphage on Mount Olives, Jesus sent two disciples with these instructions: "Go over to the village across from you. You'll find a donkey tethered there, her colt with her. Untie her and bring them to me. If anyone asks what you're doing, say, 'The Master needs them!' He will send them with you."
This is the full story of what was sketched earlier by the prophet: Tell Zion's daughter, "Look, your king's on his way, poised and ready, mounted on a donkey, on a colt, foal of a pack animal." The disciples went and did exactly what Jesus told them to do. They led the donkey and colt out, laid some of their clothes on them, and Jesus mounted.
Nearly all the people in the crowd threw their garments down on the road, giving him a royal welcome. Others cut branches from the trees and threw them down as a welcome mat. Crowds went ahead and crowds followed, all of them calling out, "Hosanna to David's son!" "Blessed is he who comes in God's name!" "Hosanna in highest heaven!"
As he made his entrance into Jerusalem, the whole city was shaken. Unnerved, people were asking, "What's going on here? Who is this?" The parade crowd answered, "This is the prophet Jesus, the one from Nazareth in Galilee."
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God, we come here today at your invitation. You have called us to this place, at this time and we come into Your presence to learn and to love. Amen.
If you’ve ever been in a crowd of people that seemed to have a mind of its own, you know that there is a thin line of difference between celebration and violence. My scariest “crowd out of control” moment was on the 25th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots in New York City—some of you may have been there, too. Now I have one distinct disadvantage in a crowd—a disadvantage that many of you share as well. On that day, I felt the shortest I have ever felt as the tens of thousands of people all moved along the streets and sidewalks in a flow of celebration tinged with anger at 25 years of struggle with little to show. The 25th anniversary of Stonewall took place in the midst of the AIDS crisis. And the crowd was infused with just enough emotional highs and lows to make them volatile indeed. Fortunately, there was no real violence that day and the swirling mass of people eventually found their way to the southern tip of Christopher Street and as the crowds dispersed into the street fair, I could finally see open air (instead of the t-shirt of the guy in front of me) and I began to breathe normally.
We start this week in the crowd of “Hail, King Jesus” and “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” In the week ahead, we see played out in slow motion the unfolding of the events which will place Jesus in the midst of a very different crowd by Friday. A crowd who does not cheer, but rather jeers; a crowd that swears and accuses instead of sings; and a crowd who replaces today’s “Hosanna” with Friday’s “crucify”. Today’s crowd—likely followers of Jesus; Friday’s crowd probably not; more than likely, they were just festival goers, unaware of and uncaring about the political drama which pulled them into the turning point in the history of God’s people. Much will happen in the next six days.
But first, we start with the joy of today! Today we are one with that crowd waving palms and branches along the way. We wave our palms as we sing, feeling almost a little silly; perhaps forgetting that the waving of palms joins us with the followers who waved their palms that day as Jesus entered into Jerusalem and with all the saints in all the places and all the years who have waved Palms since. And so we begin with Hosanna to the King of kings! Imagine yourself in that crowd on that day—you may not have known, and according to our scripture, many didn’t—exactly what was happening—but if you were present, you knew that something special was going on. If you were near the front of that crowd, you could see this humble man riding on a donkey through the streets of the city. If you were far back in the crowd, you may only have been able to sense the awe in the shouts of hosanna. If you knew your history and prophecy, you knew that this was no ordinary King—a military king would have come in on a stallion. This man was different, this man was no ordinary king at all, but one sent by God. And you may have felt the emotions roll over the crowd like an incoming ocean wave rolls over the starfish and shells lying on the beach.
And then, suddenly, the day goes back to normal. The crowds disperse and people get on with living, completely unaware of the drama that will unfold over the next few days. Not so for Jesus—he went directly to the Temple and denounced what he saw, entered into the temple and drove out the money changers and then went out to Bethany with his disciples. This may have been the act that started all that was to come. In the days to come, the people continued to listen to his teaching and the priests and scribes began to plot to kill him as they were afraid of him and his power. The scriptures record many of the parables that he was telling the people. Underlying this narrative is the building subplot by the officials to quiet this man who spoke of righteousness and love. They tried entrapment but he outsmarts them regarding taxes by responding “render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s”. And so it goes, with sermon after sermon, parable after parable, prophesy after prophesy; Jesus never tires, working to leave as much for his followers as he could.
As he always did, he tries to reveal the bigger story to his disciples; and, as always they stay focused on the here and now—wanting specifics—unable to see beyond what is happening in front of them to understand all that Jesus is showing them. Jesus predicts many things including that the temple will be destroyed and that the disciples themselves will be persecuted and killed. He calls them to watchfulness—to be awake and aware—to see the signs and learn from them. Jesus teaches to the end.
And finally, the conspiracy begins to play out. Judas agrees to betray Jesus and actively looks for a time when he can identify Jesus to the authorities. Passover begins and Jesus makes plans to spend the Passover meal, his final meal, with the disciples in the home of an unidentified man. And then unfolds the beautiful gathering of friends, even the same friends who will later betray Jesus, and Jesus leads them in a celebration of life and love for each other that we remember this and every time we gather for worship. And then, there is Gethsemane…the long tortuous hours of prayer and supplication—the lonely hours when the disciples cannot even keep watch while their leader, teacher, and friend agonizes over what is to come. And what about the others, those who sang “hosanna” a mere 5 days earlier? We know that, except for a few, that crowd was gone now, probably in fear of what the officials were about to do, hiding somewhere, waiting to see what happened next.
We must not judge these weary followers too harshly. They, like many of us, were looking for a leader, a fantabulous, miraculous leader. But at the end of the triumphal entry lay more work, more journey, more earthly sacrifice. This was not a king who would change their world in a blink of an eye. This was a king who would invite the whole world into the reign of the justice of God—a reign that required treating others with dignity, justice, and love. Five or six days is a long time to keep a memory alive—we know that even today. What is news today will only be news for perhaps a day or two, and not even that if something bigger comes along.
We want to be done with Lent today—to get to the rejoicing. Palm Sunday seems almost like a cruel joke—a time to get us shouting with joy only to be dropped on our faces in despair by Friday. And we could look at it that way. But I believe that the meaning in Palm Sunday lies in Jesus showing us who he really was—that he would fulfill the crowd’s expectations only in the way that he was called to do—by riding a humble donkey as a king of peace. The shouts of earthly praise did not deter him from doing the hard, agonizing, painful work of sacrifice. What a temptation to become the king that the people would have had him be. And yet, Jesus, King of kings, submitted to the will of his God and took on the sins of the world—the sins of those who hailed him as king today and the sins of those who called for his death on Friday.
And so, I invite you to walk with Jesus the next 6 days—hear him teaching in the Temple and in the streets. Contemplate the love and compassion that moved him to welcome his closest friends—even those who would betray him—to a dinner full of love, and memory, and hope. And then, to walk the journey on Friday, to stand on the side of the road and watch this man of peace struggle to carry the cross—to want to reach out to touch him and help him and know that it is not to be—to feel the agony of his mother and the despair of his friends. And to wait—to wait to celebrate the miracle of Sunday morning—a Sunday like all other Sundays—yet always new with rebirth and resurrection and life. Amen and Amen
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