When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany near the
Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the
village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there
a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing
this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here
immediately.’” They went away and found
a colt tied near a door, outside in the street.
As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, “What are
you doing, untying the colt?” They told them
what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw
their cloaks on it; and he sat on it.
Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy
branches that they had cut in the fields.
Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,
“Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes
in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the
coming kingdom of our ancestor David!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had
looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany
with the twelve.
We hear this story every year.
Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a donkey, the road lined with cloaks and
branches and palm fronds, right on time on Palm Sunday every year. Palm Sunday is that day in the church’s year
that lets us know the six weeks of Lent, begun when we saw our shadow on Ash
Wednesday, are almost over, thanks be to God.
When Jesus rides into Jerusalem, we know that we only have to hold out
for another week to keep our Lenten fast from chocolate or peanut butter or
soda or alcohol or whatever else we gave up.
On this day every year, the anthem for worship may as well be, “Hippity
hoppity, Easter’s on its way.” Crowds
show up on Palm Sunday and wave their palm branches and shout “Hosanna” and then
show up next week and sing “Alleluia” with little thought to the events that
took place between these two Sundays. As
happened with Jesus, only a few of the most dedicated, faithful, and devout
disciples will show up this week on Thursday, and by the time we get to Friday,
the number will be even less.
We hear this Palm Sunday story every year, right on time,
pre-Easter, one week left to go; but I wonder if we’ve heard it so much, we no
longer really listen to it. And yet,
this week is too important for our familiarity with the story to numb us to
hearing God speaking in it, and so I invite your participation today through a
listening ear and an open heart. May we pray.
Sometimes a car is just a car; other times it is a
statement. In high school, I drove a
1982 Ford LTD - it was robin egg blue with a dark blue vinyl top and we called
it “The Blue Bomber” - and that was an appropriate name in every sense of the
word. I think the statement that car
made about me was “This used to be A.J.’s Dad’s car, but it go so unreliable he
got tired of driving it, got another one, and A.J. drives this one now.”
There was the 1987 Chevy Celebrity - the factory color was
Rosewood, but let’s call it what it was, pink - and so we called it “Pink
Maxie” in honor of the grandma who had owned it previously. And then there was the car I acquired during
my first year of seminary after I wrecked Maxie - a goldish-brown 1992 Saturn
SC. It was covered in Meredith College
stickers which I quickly removed, but not before my friends could name the car
“Meredith,” and that name stuck. Do you
have any idea how humbling it is to drive around in a car named “Meredith?”
Sometimes, transportation is just transportation; other times,
it’s a statement. It is true in our day,
and it was true in Jesus’ day, as
well. Just take a look at the 11 verses
we’ve read today, the familiar story of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem
on that first Palm Sunday at the start of the week celebrating the Passover. 11 verses detail the events of that day in
Mark’s account, and fully 7 of those have to do with the procurement of the
famous donkey, suggesting that one’s ride in Jesus’ day was just as important
as it is in ours. What did Jesus’ ride
say about him?
First, let us understand that Jesus’ procession into Jerusalem
was not the only one taking place that day.
The text tells us that Jesus entered the city from the East, from the
Mount of Olives. But over on the other
side of town, the Roman army would be processing into the city from the West. Though there was a garrison of Roman soldiers
permanently stationed in Jerusalem and Pilate, the governor, maintained a
palace in the city, his headquarters was in Caesarea Maritima, a city on the
coast with pleasant breezes off the Mediterranean and a state-of-the-art
harbor.
However, during the major festivals, the occupying Roman
government would relocate to Jerusalem and enter town in a grand military
procession. The purpose of this
procession was twofold - one, to maintain order during the festival, and two,
to make it clear who was in charge. It
would have been an impressive sight: chariots, war horses, legionnaires,
archers, flags flying, soldiers marching, trumpets blaring, drums beating,
armor clanking. This imposing display of
Roman imperial power came with the understanding that resistance to the empire
was futile.
There were also hundreds of thousands of pilgrims - Jews who had
scattered across the known-world - who would be coming into the city of
Jerusalem for the celebration of Passover.
With all these people, it would have been easy for Jesus and his
disciples to arrive inconspicuously and anonymously as just part of the crowd.
But Jesus doesn’t do it that way.
He enters Jerusalem with style.
Rome had made its demonstration of power from the West. Jesus would stage a counter-demonstration
from the East. Jesus comes to the city
not in a powerful way, like the Roman army, but in a ludicrously humble way,
riding not upon a magnificent war horse, but on a donkey. His “triumphal entry” echoes the prophecy of
Zechariah 9:9: “Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he,
humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” Jesus is the fulfillment of this prophecy, he
is the long-expected Messiah, the one who will liberate the people and set them
free.
I know that people have gotten hung up on the language used to
describe the actual animal Jesus rode in on.
The gospels of Mark and Luke call it a colt, Matthew says he rode in on
a donkey and a colt (Matthew 21:5) - it says that Jesus rode “them,” which I
always thought would be an interesting feat to watch Jesus ride two animals at
the same time, straddling them like some sort of circus act. So which was it? Did Jesus ride a donkey, or did Jesus ride a
colt, the foal of a donkey?
John Dominic Crossan offers that the mention of both the donkey
and the colt in Zecheriah, echoed by Matthew, is actually speaking poetically
and using Semitic parallelism. He wants
us to see “two animals, a donkey with her little colt beside her, and that
Jesus rides “them” in the sense of having them both as part of his
demonstration’s highly visible symbolism.”
In other words, Jesus does not ride a stallion or a mare, a
gelding warhorse, a mule, a male donkey or even just any old female
donkey. He rides the most unmilitary
mount imaginable: an untrained, un-ridden, un-neutered female nursing donkey
with her little colt trotting along beside her.
Like a soccer mom with her minivan or a middle-aged man with his
red convertible, the ride Jesus chooses tells us what his life is all
about. The warhorses and chariots of the
army are instruments of oppression and death.
They are trained, neutered, precise, and predictable. They are magnificent, impressive, and
imposing. And when Jesus chooses the
nursing donkey with her little colt trotting along beside her, he is making a
fundamentally different claim. She may
be untrained, wild, and unpredictable. She
may be humble and unimpressive. But she
is the ride Jesus chooses, perhaps because she is fertile, perhaps because she
is capable of bringing new life, perhaps because she can nurture new life. But when Jesus put his two disciples on valet
duty that morning and told them to go and find him a suitable ride, the ride
Jesus chooses is a statement.
We used to sing it in children’s church: “We have a king who
rides a donkey, and his name is Jesus.”
He doesn’t ride in a chariot, he doesn’t come mounted on a warhorse; the
donkey symbolizes the humble splendor of his kingdom. His procession into Jerusalem perfectly
mimics the Roman procession in every way, and yet the meaning of each couldn’t
be more different. Rome displayed its
oppressive power. Jesus displayed his
subversive humility. Rome brings
control. Jesus brings peace. Rome brings occupation. Jesus brings liberation. Rome will reign from a royal palace. Jesus will reign from a cross. Rome comes armed and ready to kill. Jesus is willing to die so that we might
live.
On that first Palm Sunday, the crowds didn’t know all that, and
yet they still greeted him as a king. No
wonder they yelled “Hosanna - save us!
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” Years of expectation exploded from those
words as people cut leafy branches from the field and laid them ahead of Jesus
in the road along with their cloaks. As
they waved their palm branches, they knew that everything was going to be
different because of Jesus. Friends, it
is! And the clue to all of that is the
donkey. Humble, unassuming, fertile,
slightly unpredictable - all of these are the blessed hallmarks of the kingdom
Jesus reveals.
For one day, we sorta get it right when we recognize that this is
what a king looks like. But by the end
of the week, we’ll prefer a different kind of king. We’ll want God to act more like the mighty
Roman army than this itinerant, humble, carpenter preacher from Nazareth. We’ll want to trade in the king Jesus is for
one that looks more like one the rest of the world will recognize. God will send us a king, but before the week
is over, we’ll send him back.
But today, on Palm Sunday, we get it right. We get it right when we hail him as king, and
worship him as Lord. We get it right
when we obey him as master, and call upon him as Savior. When we get it right when the joy explodes
from our souls, no matter how much some oppressor or another wants to squash it
down, it will not be contained. We get
it right when our lives center upon Christ and the joy is magnified simply
because we are in the presence of his humble splendor. We get it right when we call upon Jesus for
our salvation and recognize that he comes to us with the promise of new
life. Palm Sunday invites us to
experience the humble hope that is the hallmark of Jesus and his kingdom.
Today, we’re given a choice about which side of town we want to
be on, and which parade we’re cheering for.
May we be found faithful. Palm
Sunday is the day we get it right, shouting Hosanna, hailing Jesus as king,
running to meet him along the road he travels.
Before the week is over, that road will lead him to the cross, but even
there, in what the world will see as defeat, that is the place Jesus will name
his work as finished. He is a different
kind of king. The ride he chooses should
tell us that. Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the
Lord. Hosanna in the highest! Thanks be to God.
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