Homily for Palm Sunday at Graves Chapel March 29, 2015
"The
triumphal entry"--that is what we call it. Jesus returns to Jerusalem,
where he is greeted by a huge crowd shouting "Hosanna!" But what is in his mind as he rides on
that foal of a donkey? We know
that he knew, though none of his disciples understood, that this entry into the
great city would be his final journey.
In
fact, as they made their way there, Jesus has spelled out to the disciples
exactly what is about to happen to him: "See, we are going up to Jerusalem,
and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes,
and they will condemn him...and flog him...and kill him." And what do the
disciples do just after Jesus bluntly says that he will be handed over to
suffering and death? They argue
among themselves about who is the most highly favored. James and John ask Jesus
if they can be seated next to him in glory, one on each side, and of course the
other disciples, who may already harbor resentment toward the "Sons of
Thunder," as Jesus calls the brothers, raise an uproar. Not one of them
has really heard Jesus; they are all totally self-preoccupied. Exasperated,
Jesus quells the argument. At that moment, he must have felt completely alone.
Those who have called themselves his disciples have let him down--for the first
time during this week we now enshrine as Holy Week. More betrayals are ahead.
So,
the Jesus we see entering Jerusalem to the cheers of his supporters probably
feels far from triumphant. We
Christians say He is the only man in the history of the world to be both fully
Divine and fully human. Just now, as he moves slowly along the street, his
heart contends with a turmoil of human feelings: loneliness, fear, even anger.
All are understandable.
In
our mind's eye and in many of the depictions of this event in paintings, Jesus
looks...well, awkward. A full-grown man astride a small donkey, his feet
nearly drag the ground. To maintain his center of gravity, he hunches back into
his seat. There is a faint smile
on his face, evidence of his compassion for the ones in the cheering crowd, but
he isn't waving. This is NOT that kind of parade.
This
parade is about the fulfillment of prophecy. It was the prophet Zechariah who
foretold the King's arrival in Zion on the back of a donkey's colt. Although
this King Jesus is in no way a politician that we could compare to the
politicians of today, his arrival in Jerusalem to the cheers of the multitude
sets off, as he knows it will, a political confrontation. He will be hailed as
"The King of the Jews," but it is the minion of an emperor who will
condemn him to death.
As
he makes his slow, uncomfortable way along the palm-strewn dusty street, surely
Jesus recognizes some of the faces in the crowd. Maybe his cousins from Cana,
whose wedding reception he rescued, smile and wave. Wouldn't some of the many people who were miraculously
healed by Jesus be pushing close to the front of the crowd to catch another
glimpse of Him?
The
lepers...the man with palsy...
The
woman who simply touched the hem of his robe (so as not to trouble him) and was
healed of her many years' long anguish of hemorrhaging.
The
several blind men whose eyes were first opened to a vision of the saviour's
face...surely they would want to see that love-filled face again?
The
man freed of possessing demons--wouldn't the restoration of his sanity warrant
his presence in the crowd?
If
any Roman official is there, it must be the Centurion, a man of great faith, of
power and self-possession. He would not see a threat in the kind teacher who
healed his servant from a distance.
And
would not the ones Jesus raised from the dead be among the faces in the crowd?
Jairus is a leader of the synagogue--a potential enemy--but when it came to the
illness and death of his little daughter, Jairus was willing to put his faith
in Jesus, and his faith was rewarded.
Would he and his daughter be among the crowd, or would his fear of the
Pharisees keep him at home?
Mary,
Martha, Lazarus--the beloved friends. They must be there! They have never
denied their deep connection to the man called Jesus, the saviour. Jesus's
bringing Lazarus alive out of the tomb after several days was a spectacular
miracle. Surely Lazarus, Martha,
and Mary are there to see him.
As
his eyes scan the faces in the crowd, does he see his mother, his brother
James, any of the other siblings? Mary will stand beneath his cross at the end
of this week. Did she arrive at Jerusalem in time to see this triumphal
celebration of her son's life and ministry?
And
those apostles--some of them help him with his mount, so they are certainly in
the crowd, but they will scatter like the poorly-sown wind-blown seed as
triumph becomes tragedy. Like most of us, their discipleship doesn't always
stand a test.
Of
course, it is possible that very few of the ones Jesus had touched in some way
were there waving palms and shouting "Hosanna!" Something more
important--or fear of the authorities--may have kept them away. So who are the
other, unrecognizable faces in the crowd? Some are cynics who hope to get a
laugh from the antics of the donkey-mounted quack and his foolish
followers. Some are ordinary
people, curious about the uproar.
The
Pharisees are there, of course, just beginning to form a plan that will
eliminate the bothersome rabbi forever, they hope.
All
see and are seen by the Lord. Many of them will play a role in the events that
unfold in the days ahead.
As
he follows the inexorable way, Jesus alone knows exactly what awaits him. He will pray in the garden, "Abba,
Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me. Yet, not what
I want, but what you want."
The
cup will not be removed. The Lord's surrender becomes our salvation. We
Christians believe this to be the single greatest act of love the world has
ever known. How are we called to
respond to such love? That is a
question we may each wish to answer for ourselves during this Holy Week.
AMEN.
