Sermon
In the parable Jesus told just before today's reading his listeners heard about a nobleman who left his slaves in charge of his business while he went away to another land to seek more power. That nobleman was hated by his people and they challenged his rule, but to no avail. The verse right before today's text, is the nobleman saying “But as for these enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them—bring them here and slaughter them in my presence.”
There's one example of a king. And in comes Jesus in a kingly procession, looking anything like a king.
In the Luke version of Jesus' “triumphal entry into Jerusalem,” there doesn't appear to be anything triumphant happening. In the Luke version, Jesus isn't even near Jerusalem, he can just see it in the distance, he hasn't even come down the Mount of Olives yet, it's almost pastoral. It's a much quieter scene than the one we may have in our heads. The great multitude mentioned in today's reading consists of Jesus' disciples and any who may have come to believe, outside of the city in the countryside. Not like in the Matthew version of the text that says “when they entered the city, the whole city was in turmoil.” Jesus rides toward the city, not on a triumphant mount but on a colt or a donkey. The Lukan version doesn't even include the word Hosanna, which I was really looking forward to shouting today, so I'm glad we are hearing it in the liturgy!
Hosanna is a word that comes from two Hebrew words used in psalm 118, that mean “please, save us now!” There's a beseeching quality within the meaning, 'Please!' At the same time there is also the feeling of hope and expectation that we will be helped. The use of Hosanna in the new testament is a quote from the psalm but with a second meaning of joyful praise and thanks. When we use hosanna today, we are referring to the saving work of Christ after the fact, so we are saying Thank you! Praise God!
Today is kind of a bittersweet Sunday in the liturgical year. It's fun to take our palms and wave them, and be part of a joyful procession. We shout hosanna, praising God, loving Christ and it's all true. But true to form, Luke tends to bring things to earth a little more. Some churches call this Passion Sunday and focus on the second half of the larger Lukan text that comes after what we read today. The thinking is that if we move from triumphal entry to resurrection, we have the rose colored glasses version of Christianity. This Lukan version to me, without all the noise of the Matthew, Mark and John versions seems like a good compromise. We can still wave our palms, we really are shouting hosanna, but the undercurrent of coming disappointment and betrayal that is coming is present enough to keep us subdued.
Indeed, the very next verse in the text is verse 41: “As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.”
How can we shout hosanna and in the next breath weep with Jesus? It's like a jolt to the system, a punch in the gut. I can't help but feel that it's a timely way to approach Palm Sunday this year. In his article, “Signs of Peace” Eric Clayton writes,
“We've become all too familiar with images of war, violence, and destruction. We see cities turned to rubble and deadly weaponry clenched in resolute hands. We see, too, in graphic detail what sorrow and pain look like; we see it etched into faces, in the tears and choked-up voices on film, and in the grim determination to survive, to struggle onward. The tragedy unfolding in Ukraine is only the most recent example.”
We see right before our eyes, the king in the parable, going to other lands to seek more power. And crushing his enemies right before him. And just like Jesus' movement toward Jerusalem in placed right in the midst of the parable, Palm Sunday this year is placed right in the midst of an exact version of that power-hungry king in the parable. Who among us has not been weeping this past month?
And yet, we find ourselves in the crowd saying maybe with joy, but with an added tinge of defiance “Blessed IS the one who comes in the name of the Lord! We may feel lost about what to do about Asian hate, the systemic hardship of black and brown lives, the exhaustion in the faces of the people at our border fleeing violence in their homes, the never-ending beating down of lives caught in relentless poverty, the bold brutal behavior of leaders of our own country double-speaking their way to power, and even the larger fight for basic democratic ideals that is happening – we can stare all of that in the face and say “Blessed IS the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”
Because we know that even the humble scene in the Luke version of Jesus' “triumphal entry” was not the end. Jesus wept over the city, but he kept moving. The disciples' joyful proclamation of “Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord!” is something we say every time we share in the Lord's Supper, quoting this scene. Jesus' entry on a colt or donkey, in what some scholars say is a deliberate mocking of the authorities, was an act of utter defiance of the world order, whether people then knew it or not. Our hosanna can be that fist in the air toward injustice too. Our cries of “blessed IS the one” can be our fight song too.
I invite us to make the journey to Easter this year, slowly. There are many ways to let ourselves feel the emotions of holy week without descending to the depths of the crucifixion ourselves. We can be mindful of the places where we recognize the vision of Christ in the world. We can come to church on Good Friday when we will have two short reflective services of the reading of Christ's Passion. One service at noon and one at 3:00pm. Many people then fast until Easter morning, as a spiritual discipline and as a way to remember the paradox of this season. There are some handouts on the table outside that have ideas for prayer throughout the week, or poems, or reflections that you may want to use this week.
When we share in the final week of lent by experiencing Jesus' last day, we do it while remembering that in our lives these events have already happened. We can enter into the story with all of our emotions while simultaneously feeling buoyed by our knowledge and comfort from the One who came in the name of the Lord, for all.
Blessed IS the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Amen.