On this wonderful morning, we are given strips of palm, small branches that are still green and fragrant. We wave them, happy to join the children in acting a bit giddy with excitement and joy. King Jesus comes and all the people rejoice. With Christians all around the world, we wave our branches and shout “Hosanna” to the king. Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.
“Hosanna!” It’s a word that actually means something far different from what we might imagine. It does not mean “Hail! Praise!” or, “We greet you, O Jesus!” It means “save us.” Save us, O King. And we must ask ourselves: from what? For what? Like the whole city on that day long ago, we look at this king and ask: “who is this?” And what has he come to do?
We’ll come back to those questions at the end of this sermon, but first we must examine again the scene we find ourselves in today in this passage often called “The Triumphal Entry.” As Matthew tells it, Jesus and his disciples had traveled from Jericho, along that road made famous by the story of the Good Samaritan. It was a dangerous road, dry and dusty, but they had safely made their way to Bethphage at the Mount of Olives. Atop the mount, amidst fragrant wildflowers if there had been rain that year, like there will be throughout all the deserts of California and Arizona, they looked over the city of Jerusalem from the west.
Looking down, they would have seen the green tops of olive trees at the lower levels of the mount and the Garden of Gethsemane. And they would have seen down into the Kidron Valley, and there, the graves of the great prophets Hagai, Zechariah and Malachi. This site was considered to be so sacred, that our Jewish brothers and sisters still believe this to be the place from which the new messianic era and the resurrection of the dead will begin, here, from the base of the Mount of Olives.
Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem from that very spot was no accident. He was signaling something incredibly powerful to the people. He was claiming his identity as Prophet, as Messiah, as King. And they poured out into the streets that day to greet his arrival.
It was a time of intense political ferment in Jerusalem and the people were literally dying for change. Following 300 years of freedom from slavery in Egypt, the people were suffering now from 100 years of Roman domination, begun by the Roman general Pompeii. Uprisings had started. The Zealots were mobilizing. Zaduk the Pharisee had led a revolution in and around Jerusalem and his followers had been put to death. The Romans executed all two thousand of them as they did all political prisoners, by hanging them on crosses to die.
By the time Jesus entered Jerusalem that day, there had been over thirty riots and uprisings. The city was in turmoil, as the Gospel tells us.
“Save us”, they cried, “save us, Son of David.” They thought he was the messiah they had so long awaited, the new ruler who would bring the long-awaited political victory.
Do you grasp the power and symbolism and longing and expectation packed into this moment? On the one hand, to the Jewish people, Jesus was to be their liberator, the one who would finally bring them to victory and set them free. And on the other hand, to the Romans, he was a feared and hated threat. They sensed that he had the power to do this, and they would tolerate no challenge to their authority.
In the end—the end which is the beginning of our Christian story—Jesus wasn’t who anyone thought he was. Even the disciples still didn’t get it. He wasn’t the Messiah the Jews wanted him to be and he wasn’t the political usurper the Romans feared. He confounded them all. He wasn’t who anyone thought he was. He was the one who comes in the name of the Lord, the one sent by God to initiate God’s reign of love and righteousness and peace.
Jesus signaled his message right from the start that day. “Go and get me a donkey” and we’ll ride into town. “Tell them”, he said, “your king is coming to you, humble, mounted on a donkey…” A donkey. Matthew brings the story round, full circle. For it was a humble donkey that had carried him in his mother’s womb to Bethlehem to be born. And again, a donkey that had carried him in his mother’s arms when they fled to Egypt to escape King Herod’s wrath and certain death when he was just a baby boy. His entire life had been all about being a new kind of King, a totally unexpected humble King, a King that confounds and turns the values of this world inside out.
I often think that now, from this vantage point, some twenty centuries later, we still have failed to grasp the import of his message and the real meaning of his life and that we still fail to grasp the living hope into which we are called by the power of his triumph over death.
A compelling reflection come to us from the writer, John Young, entitled “Twenty Centuries Past.” I have modified it just a bit to bring it close to home:
“Twenty centuries past, what city has not heard of your coming?
From Beijing to Berlin, from Jerusalem to Johannesburg, from New York to New Delhi, from São Paulo to Santa Monica,
Surely the word has come that you’ve come in peace, not violence,
To enrich, renew, transform our lives and bring us to shalom?
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.
Twenty centuries past, what city has not heard of your church?
From Catholic, Orthodox, or Reformed, Anglican, Evangelical or Pentecostal,
Surely the message of acceptance, healing, confidence in your royal advent has been passed on through faithful living?
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.
Twenty centuries past, what city does Christ seek to enter?
From suburb to city center, from housing project to luxury condo, from violent streets to rent-controlled apartments,
surely the sign of a church free from pride, poured out in service, hearts open with love and joy,
surely this must be the welcome Christ longs for as he enters your city?”
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.”
Christ Jesus still longs to enter our cities, our world in turmoil as he did some twenty centuries ago. He longs to bring peace and shalom. He longs for his church to be a beacon of welcoming love. Today he rides into the very midst of us again, embodying the transforming hope of the Kingdom of God.
And we still ask: “Who is this?” Who is this king who knows no palace, no throne, no wealth? Who is this king who has no armies, no swords, no spears? Who is this king who rules from within our hearts? Who is this king who longs to reshape our values, our friendships, our loyalties, our priorities through love? Who is this king who washes our feet and over and over and over and over again demonstrates in his very life how we are to love one another?
Who is this king and who are we, his people?
On this Palm Sunday, we wave our palms to become part of that Triumphal Procession with Jesus. We wave, some timidly, some exuberantly along with the children, and many of us take our palms home and put them somewhere where we will see them each day to remind us of who we are and what kind of king we follow.
But let’s take it even further this year. Let’s make of every day a Palm Sunday. Every day a day when we fall into step with Christ, joining with him to become signs of the kingdom wherever we go, in all that we do. In every ‘procession’--to school, to work, to the grocery, to a friend’s house, to the gym, to church—wherever we go. For the only way we can go all the way to the depth of what this kingdom means is to live into it day by day. Day by day, like the song our youth sing sometimes. “Day by day…three things I pray: to see thee more clearly, love thee more dearly, follow thee more nearly”
Let me close this morning with this prayer:
”Jesus our brother, as we dare to follow in the steps you trod, be our companion on the way. May our eyes see the people who walk with you now; may our feet tread not only the path of your pain but the streets of a living city; may our prayers embrace not only the memory of your presence but the real lives and needs of those along our path. Bless us, with them, and make us long to do justice, to love mercy and to walk humbly with our God.”
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.”
AMEN.
Notes:
John Young, quoted in Resources for Preaching and Worship, Year A, compiled by Hannah Ward and Jennifer Wild. Louisville: John Knox Press, 2004.
Janet Morley, “Prayer in Jerusalem,” from same source.
© Patricia Farris, 2008. Permission is given for brief quotation with attribution.
All other rights reserved.
"Hosanna!"