Sometimes, this day takes on two purposes, and after the blessing of the palms, we include the reading of the passion, the events that will happen later in Holy Week. On this Palm Sunday though, we are only going to hear Mark’s account of Jesus entering Jerusalem.
Often on Palm Sunday we have processed from the fellowship hall, around the church building and into the sanctuary waving emerald green palms high in the air and shouting “Hosanna.” And especially if small children are invited to lead the palm procession, it feels festive and joyful. After all, who doesn’t love a parade?
I’d guess that Lent and its somber focus on penitence and forgiveness have primed us for celebration. And at the end of Holy Week, we will celebrate, with the resurrection, but today is not about parades and celebrations.
The first part of the story is well-known. Mark, Matthew and Luke all include the conversation between Jesus and his disciples, instructing them to go into the town and find a donkey, or as Mark says, a colt, and bring it back to him. And by way of explanation, they tell anyone who asks that the animal is needed by the Lord. And nobody bats an eye.
Jesus has already talked with his disciples three times about the suffering and death that he will endure. He has challenged their expectations about what kind of messiah he will be. And now, instead of riding a majestic steed, he chooses to enter Jerusalem riding atop a plain donkey.
The cloaks and leafy branches that are laid before his way can be seen as signs of adoration but just as likely, they were a practical way to tamp down the dust that would be kicked up as he rode.
And yet, the passage still reads as though the people are preparing for a coronation or enthronement. Expectations are high.
And then nothing happens.
Jesus goes into the temple, looks around, sees how late it is and leaves.
And the scene ends.
Matthew and Luke have the temple scene where Jesus throws out the money changers immediately follow his arrival in the temple and, as we talked about a few weeks ago, John has it at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. But Mark puts it on the next day, and while it’s possible that the timing of this detail doesn’t matter, the effect here is that Jesus doesn’t speak at all from his entrance into Jerusalem to his return to Bethany at the end of the day.
Imagine how he carried himself or what his emotions or expressions were. Surely if people are shouting acclamation and pleading “Save us we pray” - which is what Hosanna means – you’d react or respond. If this was a modern protest or demonstration, you’d expect speeches; if it was a political rally, you’d expect promises. There’d be some kind of climax.
But instead, at least here in Mark’s gospel, there’s nothing. Jesus appears reticent, unshaken or unmoved by the people surrounding him.
As Lamar Williamson, author of the Interpretations commentary, writes, “his silence seems to suggest, “I am Messiah, and I will save; but not as you expect.” (204)
Not as you expect.
As we enter into Holy Week, I wonder, what are our expectations of the Messiah?
Do we expect a Messiah who saves us from illness, pain or grief?
Do we expect a Messiah whose power and authority are in sync with the world where we live?
Do we expect a Messiah who takes our side and punishes our enemies?
Because in Jesus we meet a Messiah who bears our suffering but does not erase it;
a Messiah who laments and weeps;
a Messiah who is unafraid to love those who the world calls unlovable;
a Messiah who seeks justice even when it makes him unpopular, even when it leads to his death.
We are invited to enter this Holy Week not as if we were atop parade floats accompanied by jubilant noisemakers and crowds, but instead following the Lord knowing that each day we draw closer to the cross.
Let us pray…[i]
God of palm branches and hosannas:
We love a good Palm Sunday celebration. We love the sound of a joyful parade.
We love shouting, “Hosanna!” We love that Palm Sunday means Easter is just around the corner.
We love good news.
We give thanks that even when we get distracted,
you call us back to you, and remind us what it means that you have given us a Savior, a Messiah.
Help us remember that we are known, we are loved and we are forgiven. Again and again and again.
We pray in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Amen.
[i] Adapted from prayers by the Rev. Sarah Are, A Sanctified Art.
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