“Jesus’ Triumphal Entry in Jerusalem”
A Sermon Preached by the
Rev. Jean Niven Lenk
Palm Sunday, March 24, 2013
First Congregational Church of Stoughton, MA
Text: Mark 11:1-11
Let us pray… Holy God, we praise you for your son, the Christ, who came riding into the city of Jerusalem on a lowly beast, victorious through love rather than violence. As we hear your Word this morning, open our hearts that we might grasp the meaning of Christ’s passion and death and the new life his resurrection promises to each of us. Amen.
What comes to your mind when I say the name Lance Armstrong?
How about Tiger Woods? Pete Rose, Barry Bonds, Kobe Bryant?
All of these sports figures have something in common, and it’s not what you think.
All of these athletes have been public figures idolized by kids. And all of them have disappointed us in one way or another. All of them failed to live up to our expectations.
Now, perhaps the problem was not with the person him- (or her-) self, but rather with our expectations of the person. We come to expect – unrealistically, perhaps -– that our heroes, including sports figures, will be perfect role models of behavior; that they will be held, and will hold themselves, to a higher standard than the rest of ordinary humanity. And then we are disappointed when we find out that they are frail and fragile human beings, just like the rest of us.
Isn’t that the paradox of celebrity? After reading and hearing about famous people, we develop expectations of who we think they should be… what they should look like… how they should act. And then we’re disappointed when these human beings do not live up to our idealized expectations.
Today’s story of Jesus entering Jerusalem is also a story of expectations that were not met. I invite you to turn to page 47 in the New Testament section of your pew bible to Mark’s version of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem – chapter 11, verses 1 through 11.
11 1When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples 2 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. 3 If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’” 4 They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, 5 some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” 6 They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. 7 Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. 8 Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. 9 Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,
“Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! 10Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
11 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.
Expectations. They are running high with the new Pope. In the week and a half since his election, Pope Francis has indicated that he will throw off the opulent trappings of the papacy and settle for a simpler, humbler lifestyle. He has raised hopes that he will work to protect God’s creation and the world’s poor. If these expectations are not met, a lot of people are going to be disappointed.
Expectations. The crowd that welcomes Jesus into Jerusalem that day 2000 years ago certainly have them. They have suffered under hundreds of years of oppression and are now ruled by the Romans who have brought unfair taxes, brutal sentences, and quick, sure retribution to any and all who dare defy them. For half a millennium, they have kept an eye out for King David’s successor to gallop into town on a stallion and assume the throne – a new king who would be the one to bring justice, righteousness, salvation and peace.
And they think that new king is Jesus.
And so, when he rides into Jerusalem on that first Palm Sunday, he is received like a conquering hero; people from all over line the streets and cheer wildly; the crowds shout “Hosanna” which means “save us.” They want to believe that Jesus will destroy their enemies and renew God’s children as a free, honored, and chosen people.
They don’t seem to notice that he is riding into town on a humble donkey, not exactly an animal befitting a war general. They don’t understand that he comes not as a powerful, conquering hero but rather as God’s son, to break the power structures of oppression and hate and death.
No, the crowd that cheers Jesus' arrival has wrong expectations of him and what he has come to do. But he has said that Jerusalem will be the place of his rejection and death, and all the hosannas and all the palm branches can’t hide the fact that he is redefining their concept of a Messiah. He is from backwater Nazareth. He walks to work, sleeps beneath the stars, lives among the poor, and fills his calendar with the kind of people kings don’t have time for.
Jesus is a different kind of sovereign. His Godly kingship is not about might, but about mercy; not about power, but peace; not about retribution, but redemption.
And that is the paradox of today – it is divided by the expectations of the crowd and the holy calling of God, divided by joy and pain, divided by the religious and political agendas of the world. It holds at once arrival and departure, celebration and despair, embrace and betrayal, alienation and union.
As the week unfolds, Jesus’ preaching will become more pointed, his words and actions more radical. He will overturn the tables of the moneychangers in the Temple, threatening the powers that be, and his actions will unite the religious and business leaders against him. He will make the temple a house of prayer for all people; he will proclaim God’s acceptance and life-changing love to the blind and lame; and he will welcome the tax collectors and prostitutes into God's Kingdom ahead of the priests, scribes and Pharisees. Jesus will fail to live up to the expectations of the crowd and, in response, it will turn on him. Slowly at first, and then with increasing rapidity, the cheers will turn to jeers.
Jesus will stand silent amid trumped-up charges, first before the council and then Pilate, as he is mocked and beaten. He could have turned from his path of radical obedience to God’s will, from his self-giving love of us. Right until the end he could have avoided suffering and death – having been abandoned by his followers, he could have abandoned us; having fought the good fight and labored long and tirelessly to bring a prodigal people back to God, who could blame him for calling it quits on those who had quit him? And yet, Jesus chooses to endure it all so that we might know the full height and breadth of God’s love for us, a God who would stoop to take on our common lot and endure what it means to be human -- right through to the end, a God who would model for us radical obedience and self-giving love.
And so today is both Palm and Passion Sunday, because Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem turns out to be not a parade for a king, but a death march for the Son of God.
Behind him are his sermons; ahead is his suffering.
Behind him are his parables; ahead is his passion.
Behind him are his suppers of fellowship; ahead is his last supper of betrayal.
Behind him, Galilee; ahead, Gethsemane.
The new monarch will be crowned with thorns.
No, Jesus does not take an easy path, nor do his followers. Because following Christ means living against the grain. It means telling the truth in a world that lies. It means giving in a world that takes. It means loving in a world that lusts, making peace in a world that fights, serving in a world that waits to be served, worshipping in a world that entertains.
Yes, following Jesus is hard. Because it means pouring out our love, as did the woman who anointed Jesus. It means staying awake and praying with a loved one who is in despair. It means being faithful to a friend, rather than denying or betraying or slinking away in his or her hour of need. It means reflecting the heart of God that is forever laced with grace and forgiveness. It means trusting that Christ walks with us, wherever we find ourselves. And it means knowing in our heart of hearts that even in the shadows that fall between now and next Sunday, even in the darkest times of our own lives, we belong to God and to one another.
And so, let us join the parade and shout “Hosanna” to welcome him into Jerusalem. But he asks us to stay with him through this coming week, all the way to cross. And each one of us has to look deep into our hearts and ask: will I follow?
Will I follow Jesus to the Upper Room and Gethsemane?
Will I stand at the foot of the cross?
Or will I lay down my palm leaves and return home to business as usual?
