On this sixth Sunday in Lent, we are poised to enter Holy Week. To tell again the most central story of our faith – the story of the table and the garden and the cross and the tomb. The story of betrayal and denial and weeping and astonishing joy. The story of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Palm Sunday prepares us to enter the story, as we arrive in Jerusalem with Jesus.
From Nazareth they traveled, Jesus, and the disciples, and the people they picked up along the way. Here he was, the expected Messiah. Look, it must be him! He’s riding on a donkey, just as the prophet Zechariah said he would be. How do you welcome a king? By rolling out the red carpet, or, when that’s not an option, you line the roadway with your coat and branches you’ve cut from trees.
Imagine the anticipation, and the excitement. Hosanna! The people cry. Save us! Do your Messiah thing. Take Jerusalem by storm, make things right for us, show the Romans who’s boss.
Across the city, another procession takes place. Only, this one is much more official. Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, is entering Jerusalem. It’s time for the Jewish festival of Passover, and anticipating large crowds and possible riots, Pilate travels from his palace by the sea to Jerusalem to better keep an eye on things. He rides a majestic horse, not a lowly donkey. He’s surrounded by Roman soldiers decked in armor and carrying swords and spears, marching in formation.
It’s a display of imperial power, and also imperial theology. In a world where the Roman Empire is all-powerful, the emperor is elevated beyond the political realm. Caesar Augustus, the greatest of the emperors, was called the “son of God”, “lord” and “savior”, the one who will bring “peace on earth”, and those divine titles continued to be used by subsequent emperors.
This is the week that these two worlds collide. Pilate, who proclaims the power and strength of Rome, and Jesus, who proclaims the kingdom of God.
Matthew writes, “When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”
“Who is this?” is the perfect question. Jesus is not Pilate, not a representative of Empire, not a traditional king. The crowds know this. In fact, they’re counting on it. They’re counting on Jesus to be the Messiah, the one who ushers in a new era where God’s people finally come out on top, after being subjected to oppression and occupation by an empire that cared very little about their traditions and beliefs. Hosanna! They cry. Save us! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
As the story unfolds further, we discover, along with the crowds, that Jesus is not a traditional king or a traditional messiah. The people had hoped that God’s anointed one would show a little more muscle. Instead, Jesus preaches love, healing, and welcome. He threatens the status quo and makes the religious authorities and the political authorities nervous with the favor he’s garnered from the crowds. But then, rather than rise up and take his rightful place, Jesus allows himself to be arrested, to be questioned and flogged and mocked and killed.
All those expectations, unmet. All that hope, dashed. And so the hopeful, desperate cries of “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” fade, replaced by angry, bitter cries of “Crucify him! Crucify him!” And so the cheering crowds disappear, and he is left alone to die.
It’s fair to say that we know a bit about turmoil, a bit about unmet expectations and dashed hopes. Our whole world has been upended in ways we could not even imagine a few months ago. And as two weeks stretches into six, or more, reality seems to be settling in. Out of care for one another, we must stay home, disrupting our usual routines of work and school and friends and errands. Events are canceled, schedules suspended indefinitely.
Our disappointment and anxieties and fears are palpable. What will happen to my family? Will we make it out of this alive? What will happen to the economy? Will I be able to retire? What will happen to my friends, my relationships, the milestones I had looked forward to and planned for? What will happen to our church? What will “normal” even look like on the other side of this?
In the midst of these big questions and deep fears, we cry out with the crowds, Hosanna! Save us! When everything else is uncertain, we look to God’s faithful, enduring presence to comfort us and bring us hope.
Jesus may not be the savior we expect, but he is the savior we need. Operating outside the bounds of how the world usually works, Jesus saves us not through force, but humility; not through violence, but love. Separated though we may be, it is Jesus who binds us together as his body, the Church that reaches beyond any building or place.
As we enter this most holy week, we prepare to hear again the story that is at the center of our faith. The story of the table and the garden and the cross and the tomb. The story of betrayal and denial and weeping and astonishing joy. The story of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Though we are scattered, the story doesn’t change. Perhaps, because we are scattered, we will hear this old, familiar story in new ways. I hope you will join us as we journey together.
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| Photo by Brooke Lark on Unsplash |
From Nazareth they traveled, Jesus, and the disciples, and the people they picked up along the way. Here he was, the expected Messiah. Look, it must be him! He’s riding on a donkey, just as the prophet Zechariah said he would be. How do you welcome a king? By rolling out the red carpet, or, when that’s not an option, you line the roadway with your coat and branches you’ve cut from trees.
Imagine the anticipation, and the excitement. Hosanna! The people cry. Save us! Do your Messiah thing. Take Jerusalem by storm, make things right for us, show the Romans who’s boss.
Across the city, another procession takes place. Only, this one is much more official. Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, is entering Jerusalem. It’s time for the Jewish festival of Passover, and anticipating large crowds and possible riots, Pilate travels from his palace by the sea to Jerusalem to better keep an eye on things. He rides a majestic horse, not a lowly donkey. He’s surrounded by Roman soldiers decked in armor and carrying swords and spears, marching in formation.
It’s a display of imperial power, and also imperial theology. In a world where the Roman Empire is all-powerful, the emperor is elevated beyond the political realm. Caesar Augustus, the greatest of the emperors, was called the “son of God”, “lord” and “savior”, the one who will bring “peace on earth”, and those divine titles continued to be used by subsequent emperors.
This is the week that these two worlds collide. Pilate, who proclaims the power and strength of Rome, and Jesus, who proclaims the kingdom of God.
Matthew writes, “When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”
“Who is this?” is the perfect question. Jesus is not Pilate, not a representative of Empire, not a traditional king. The crowds know this. In fact, they’re counting on it. They’re counting on Jesus to be the Messiah, the one who ushers in a new era where God’s people finally come out on top, after being subjected to oppression and occupation by an empire that cared very little about their traditions and beliefs. Hosanna! They cry. Save us! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
As the story unfolds further, we discover, along with the crowds, that Jesus is not a traditional king or a traditional messiah. The people had hoped that God’s anointed one would show a little more muscle. Instead, Jesus preaches love, healing, and welcome. He threatens the status quo and makes the religious authorities and the political authorities nervous with the favor he’s garnered from the crowds. But then, rather than rise up and take his rightful place, Jesus allows himself to be arrested, to be questioned and flogged and mocked and killed.
All those expectations, unmet. All that hope, dashed. And so the hopeful, desperate cries of “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” fade, replaced by angry, bitter cries of “Crucify him! Crucify him!” And so the cheering crowds disappear, and he is left alone to die.
It’s fair to say that we know a bit about turmoil, a bit about unmet expectations and dashed hopes. Our whole world has been upended in ways we could not even imagine a few months ago. And as two weeks stretches into six, or more, reality seems to be settling in. Out of care for one another, we must stay home, disrupting our usual routines of work and school and friends and errands. Events are canceled, schedules suspended indefinitely.
Our disappointment and anxieties and fears are palpable. What will happen to my family? Will we make it out of this alive? What will happen to the economy? Will I be able to retire? What will happen to my friends, my relationships, the milestones I had looked forward to and planned for? What will happen to our church? What will “normal” even look like on the other side of this?
In the midst of these big questions and deep fears, we cry out with the crowds, Hosanna! Save us! When everything else is uncertain, we look to God’s faithful, enduring presence to comfort us and bring us hope.
Jesus may not be the savior we expect, but he is the savior we need. Operating outside the bounds of how the world usually works, Jesus saves us not through force, but humility; not through violence, but love. Separated though we may be, it is Jesus who binds us together as his body, the Church that reaches beyond any building or place.
As we enter this most holy week, we prepare to hear again the story that is at the center of our faith. The story of the table and the garden and the cross and the tomb. The story of betrayal and denial and weeping and astonishing joy. The story of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Though we are scattered, the story doesn’t change. Perhaps, because we are scattered, we will hear this old, familiar story in new ways. I hope you will join us as we journey together.
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