Palm Sunday
The reading we have for this morning from John is a little different. Matthew’s, Mark’s, and Luke’s versions of the story is very focused on the disciples and what they do and what Jesus does. What sets John’s account apart is perspective. Instead of following the story play out from among the disciples and Jesus’s instructions, John tells a story more focused on what the crowd is doing and saying. In fact, even though all attention is on him, Jesus even doesn’t say anything in this version.
The crowd is super-excited about Jesus. These are folks who witnessed Jesus do the impossible! They saw him raise Lazarus from the dead! These are folks who have heard about Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead and now they want to meet Jesus. In addition to the first-hand witnesses and second-hand hearers are folks like the Pharisees who are concerned about how much attention and support Jesus is getting. “Look, the world has gone after him!” the leaders of the temple yell in despair while others praise Jesus.
The palm branches are in honor of Jesus, their presumed victorious conqueror. “Hosanna!” is a mixed greeting of praise and a call to continuing salvation work. This Jesus has conquered death by bringing Lazarus back to life: what else might he do? Could he be the one coming to save them all from their Roman oppression? The crowd recites Scripture and adds to it as they welcome Jesus in the street. One of the source for the people’s praise is Psalm 118. Some scholars believe this Psalm was said in the temple every morning, and that it was used as people entered the temple during the festival of Passover. The “Hosanna” cheer comes from verses 25 and 26, and verse 27 refers to having branches in hand as the people join in the procession of the one who comes to save. But notice that our crowd adds one important addition when they offer this praise to Jesus. They call him the “King of Israel.” In Roman ruled Palestine, that’s a biiiiig no-no.
And here’s where we notice another difference in John’s version of events when compared to the other three. Whereas Matthew, Mark, and Luke focus early in their story on Jesus orchestrating a colt to ride into Jerusalem, it is here, halfway through the event that it comes up in John. Interestingly, it doesn’t happen until after the crowd loudly proclaims Jesus the King of Israel.
This is no mistake on the author’s part. It is a very intentional variation. John depicts Jesus as giving a visual corrective. Kings are supposed to ride on horses. They’re supposed to tower over their subjects whom they have saved through their power and strength. Instead, Jesus chooses to ride on a donkey, fulfilling the prophecy of Zechariah 9.9-10. Jesus is not a warrior king; he is a peaceable and humble one.
Ayanna Johnson Watkins, executive director for the Memphis Interfaith Coalition for Action and Hope, offers some interesting insight about the choice to ride a donkey. Donkeys are shorter animals than most horses, a colt even more so since it’s not quite full grown. The donkey was not just a symbol of humility and peace. Maybe Jesus chose it because it kept him among, not above, the people. Riding on the colt, Jesus would have still been close to eye level with the crowd. There will be a time when Jesus is lifted up and raised above for the benefit of all humanity. But here and now, Jesus is showing once again that he is purposefully present, here, among his people. Even when they don’t understand.
Like the disciples, who in John’s gospel do a lot of “not understanding at first; but when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered…”
As this Lenten season draws to a close, we have an opportunity to see how the themes all come together here at Jesus’s entrance to Jerusalem. We don’t really understand how God works. But we know our calling is not just to sing God’s praise, but to get in line behind Jesus and follow him all the way through the events of this Holy Week. Like this crowd who witnessed Jesus raise Lazarus from his tomb, we have no reason to doubt Jesus and every reason to believe like we heard at Jesus’s baptism. And even though Jesus is publicly acknowledged as the Messiah, we have a harder time coming to terms with voluntary public suffering for the common good. Like when this king chooses to ride a donkey instead of a horse. And Jesus’ cleansing of the temple starts making a little more sense. His zeal for the temple’s purity was really about making sure that people could commune with God. Just like he’s doing now, staying close to eye level with his people as he sits on the colt. Finally, the events of Holy Week, starting with this reorientation of what kind of King of Israel Jesus is, is the ultimate challenge of being willing to let the truth come to light, eschewing the darkness of not only our own expectations of who God is, but what God must do.
Jesus shows us time and time again that his is the better way, but we usually only come to the realization after the fact, having finally “remembered” as disciples ourselves. Before we move on to what Jesus does; before we rush through the rest of Holy Week and into Easter, we need to stay with this moment for a bit. We need to ask ourselves how we seek to make Jesus our kind of king. If we take this story seriously, that’s what we are doing when we wave palms on this Sunday. No one waving branches in the crowd wanted or expected Jesus to go willingly to the cross. If they had come up from the lake where Jesus fed them or over from Bethany where he raised Lazarus, they were looking for a miracle-worker. If they were waiting for Jesus’ showdown with the authorities, they wanted and expected a revolutionary to overthrow the status quo.
Just like them, we’re perfectly happy to wave palms and sing his praises as long as Jesus is our kind of king. So, what expectations do we place upon Jesus? Perhaps that he will — or won’t — be political. Maybe that faith will lead to earthly success. Maybe Jesus will save this congregation. What are your expectations of Jesus? We need to be clear that, as we wave the palms and sing hosanna, we are joining the crowd in celebrating our expectations. The least we can do is to know them and to name them. And then recognize that Jesus has no intention of meeting our expectations. Jesus has no intention of being our kind of king, because Jesus is committed to being God’s kind of king.
And that’s the good news. Jesus is committed to being God’s kind of king. Jesus doesn’t withdraw to the mountain. He knows that his hour has come to die. He said so in Bethany, after Mary anointed him. Jesus said, “She bought [the costly perfume made of pure nard] so that she might keep it for the day of my burial” (John 12:7). Jesus doesn’t try and escape the crowd’s acclamation. He enters the city. But Jesus enters the city with a twist. Jesus enters the city seated on a young donkey (12:14). Jesus corrects the crowd’s expectations — and ours. Jesus comes seated on a donkey, not riding or mounted on a war chariot. Jesus comes humbly, not dolling out miracles. His gesture makes clear that Jesus is a king, but not the king we expect. And the disciples only understand this after Jesus is glorified on the cross (John 12:16). Speaking only for myself, understanding this is a lifetime’s work.
You have to wonder. As Jesus passed by, seated on a donkey, did the palm waving stop and the crowd go silent as they breathed in the sight? Or did the crowd wave even more furiously and cheer even louder in an attempt to convince, or maybe even coerce — Jesus into being their kind of king?
And what about us? As we wave our palms as the cross passes by, are we willing to allow to fall our own expectations of the kind of king Jesus should be? Because when we do, we are free to enter with joy upon those mighty acts by which God has given us abundant, eternal life. It’s never too late to give something up for Lent. Maybe the best thing we can give up for Holy Week is our expectations.
AMEN