Hosannas and Heartbreak
Hosannas and Heartbreak
Matthew 21:1-11
So, to a certain degree, we paved the way for this week’s sermon last week when we opened up the notion that, sooner or later, following Jesus means actually having to do what he calls us to do. Our job isn’t to think something. Our job is to do something. The something that we have to do always occurs in a particular time and place. We have to do something in the particular time and place in which we find ourselves and the time to do it is now.
Palm Sunday is all about a chain of people who each do the next faithful thing in real time. Jesus sends some disciples to pick up a colt and a donkey. The men had to decide whether they would do as Jesus’ asked, whether they would ask for help from a stranger and, essentially, ask the stranger to give up a good chunk of his “wealth.” They do what Jesus asks and find the stranger. They use the words that Jesus tells them to use: “The master needs this.” These disciples face the discomfort of the strange and come through. They rise to their calling.
When the colt and the donkey are brought to Jesus, Jesus, himself, has an essential choice. He knows that he is going to Jerusalem in the middle of the busiest time in the city—the Passover Festival. Tensions will be high. The authorities will be watching. He knows he needs to confront the powers that be. How should he do that? He chooses to go in a confrontational but completely non-threatening way. He’s not riding a warhorse. He’s not armed or armored. He’s not leading a group of warriors. He’s just a guy on a donkey, parading toward town. He is not a danger.
However, he is being provocative. As I’ve suggested before, Jesus is making fun out of the Roman authorities. They do ride in on warhorses. They are armored and armed. They are famous for being intimidating and for crossing the line into violence by occasionally spearing a bystander. The Roman message was clear: cheer us and shout your adoration or else! Jesus is lampooning this drama that the crowd has seen over and over again. In the crowd, there had to be a few chuckles. Yet, the authorities, who already had heard about Jesus and had their eye on him must have thought, this man is going to become a problem by provoking the crowd. In real time, the authorities must have decided to take Jesus out.
In that same moment, the crowd had choices to make. If you step back for a minute, the crowd has been one of the most consistent “characters” in the Gospels. We always have Jesus and the disciples moving from town to town and from person to person. The crowd is always there, too. Sometimes, they are looking for Jesus. Sometimes, people who need to be healed emerge from the crowd for help. Often, Jesus spends time teaching and preaching to the crowd. Sooner or later, though, the crowd ends up rejecting Jesus over and over again. Jesus calls them to join him. For the most part, they choose to say, “No!”
For almost the last time, the crowd on Palm Sunday is asked, “Will you come with me?” They know this could not end well. They know that the authorities will be watching. They know that things are about to get very risky. Will they join the parade? Will they make a public stand? They’re is no more time to waste. “If you’re coming, you’ve got to come now…”
The crowd dares to show up for him. They put themselves in the public eye as Jesus’ followers and then add a bit of spectacle of their own. They put their coats on the back of the donkey so that Jesus’ ride might be a bit more comfortable. (If you’ve ever ridden a donkey, using the word “comfort” at all in connection with that experience is a stretch!). They even take their coats and spread them on the dirt path Jesus will be traveling to hold the dust down.
We need to pause and see the power and the meaning of what their doing. We’ve talked or a long time about how hierarchical that Jesus’ world was. There was a real “pecking order.” One of the ways that this hierarchy was reinforced was through the cloaks that people wore. (Think here of how our society’s hierarchy is reinforced by the cars people drive. You see someone in an old, beater car and you think you know where he stands. You see a huge guy driving a Ferrari and you think, “Are the Bears in town?”). The cloth your cloak was made out of and the colors of your cloak signaled who had status and position.
The crowd choosing to shed their cloaks was a radical choice. They are rejecting their society and it’s way of understanding a person’s value. In this way, they are not only easing Jesus’ ride and honoring him, they are making a provocative political statement of their own about equality. They are rejecting the competition for status and standing as equals which is a pretty key part of Jesus teaching. They are literally humbling themselves.
If you carry the notion even a step further, in a society that worried about what was proper, these folks are now standing around in their undergarments. It wasn’t proper to be out in public this way. You would lose face. You would be embarrassed. God knows that it would be a whole different Fourth of July parade if the featured group was a crowd in “tighty whiteys.” (Shirtless lawn mowers have been featured and, perhaps, that gives us a taste of such “discomfort!)
So, the crowd is in a fearful moment and they make themselves more vulnerable by making their public statement to march in their “skivvies.” Then, they make themselves even more vulnerable. They are undoubtedly afraid. They must have been tempted to carry something to protect themselves and fight back. Instead of weapons, though, what they wield are branches. Here, it seems to me, they literally signal to Jesus that they are “in” on the satire. If Jesus is doing the parody of a Roman ruler’s parade, then they decide to play “good soldiers.” They wave their branches just like the Romans would have waved their spears, just as every self-respecting child knows that on Palm Sunday you stab their friends with the palm. Ultimately, the “soliders” lay their “spears” down on the road. They shed their “weapons.” It’s an incredibly provocative and powerful thing to make fun of the powerful.
A while ago, Lauren Boebert, the House Republican from Colorado, said that what Jesus needed was more Ar-15 rifles and the outcome would have been different. (I’m not making this up!) It would be hard to miss the point more completely. Jesus, the prince of peace, is on a mission of peace that draws a peaceful response from his followers. However, being a peacemaker doesn’t mean being complacent. There is a defiance to everything that happens on Palm Sunday that is a model of how to confront something without the aid of Ar-15s or any other threat of violence. You stand your ground. You challenge the way society works.
You also raise your voice, or in the case of the crowd, you all raise your voices together. If you’re ever been to a protest, especially a tense protest, it’s almost a given that people will be chanting. Calling out together in a moment of fear is reassuring. There are others who are with me. There are others who think like me. When we find our words together, we are unified. We might think a lot of different things and be from all sorts of places but right here, right now in this moment we are one. Our words also deliver a message to those whom we oppose. Here’s what we stand for. Here’s what you oppose in opposing us.
Interestingly, Jesus doesn’t lead the cheers. In most protests, the leaders do. In fact, what marks a strong leader for many people is their ability to whip up a crowd. One kind of “powerful” leader that the world has seen are those leaders who can inspire a crowd to do something. Most of those leaders then flee to safety where they can watch the crowd take all the risks. Jesus remains right in the middle of the parade, present, silent, and riding along.
His presence alone is enough to inspire the crowd. They begin to shout things: “Hosanna to the Son of David!” Wow, that’s quite a statement. “Hosanna” literally means, “Save us!” It’s both a cry for help and a declaration that Jesus is their savior. Of course, that language, for us, gets filtered through centuries of thinking of Jesus as a spiritual “savior.” That wasn’t what the people were saying. They are saying that Jesus, as the Son of David, is going to save them. David was a king. They are declaring that Jesus is their new king, the one who is going to lead the overthrow of the Romans and restore the nation. They are fundamentally challenging Roman rule and saying that Jesus is the one to lead the revolution. “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” They are crying out that Jesus’s mission is ordained by God. “Hosanna in the highest heaven.” They are saying that the whole universe can see what’s about to happen as Israel sheds Roman rule.
It’s not that the crowd is all that wrong. There is a revolution that’s about to take place, just not the revolution they’re thinking of. Jesus is the fulfillment of a promise but a promise that human beings will struggle for centuries to fully comprehend. They are choosing to stand by Jesus, to comfort him, to ease his journey, to declare themselves his followers. The momentum is palpable…
Everything is working until, as the city buzzes, wondering who this man on the donkey is, the crowd gives a totally public and completely wrong answer: “This is the prophet, Jesus, from Nazareth, in Galilee.” No, this man is so much more than a prophet. In an instant, we realize that the crowd is standing on a shaky foundation. They’ve done some amazing things this day but they truly are not understanding what’s unfolding before them.
This is how hosannas and heartbreak stand side by side. This is how the adoring crowd will become a hateful mob when fear takes over. This is how Jesus, the Prince of Peace, will die a violent death. This moment is not about overthrowing Roman rule and restoring the nation of Israel. This moment is about confronting our greatest fears. Watch this man speak the truth to power. Watch him as he is abandoned. Watch him as he faces his own death. Notice…not one of those things can separate him from the love of God.