When Jesus and the disciples drew near Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village opposite you, and immediately you will find an ass tethered, and a colt with her. Untie them and bring them here to me. And if anyone should say anything to you, reply, ‘The master has need of them.’ Then he will send them at once.” This happened so that what had been spoken through the prophet might be fulfilled: Say to daughter Zion, “Behold, your king comes to you, meek and riding on an ass, and on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.” The disciples went and did as Jesus had ordered them. They brought the ass and the colt and laid their cloaks over them, and he sat upon them. The very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and strewed them on the road. The crowds preceding him and those following kept crying out and saying, ‘Hosanna to the Son of David; blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord; hosanna in the highest.” And when he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was shaken and asked, “Who is this? And the crowds replied, “This is Jesus the prophet, from Nazareth in Galilee.” (Matthew 21.1-11)
Our Lenten journey draws towards it conclusion, only a few days remaining before we find ourselves standing before the Triduum, the three holy days known to Christian believers as Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday, bringing us to the Easter Vigil and the celebration of the Resurrection of the Lord on Easter Sunday.
As we look back at the many Lenten days behind us, we now are faced with an important question. Are we ready to enter Jerusalem with Jesus? That is the question that stands before us today as we celebrate what is commonly known as Palm Sunday because of the palms that were laid at the feet of Jesus as he prepared to enter the city. It sometimes is called Passion Sunday because this is one of the two occasions when the passion narrative is read to us, the other being Good Friday.
If we look closely at the gospel, we will find that the gates of Jerusalem mark an important dividing line for Jesus and for his followers. There is a good cause. Up until this point in his mission, Jesus has traveled the roads of Galilee. And while he met some resistance to and disbelief of his message, for the most part he has enjoyed the support of the crowds. What hostility he has suffered came at the hands of the religious leaders, many of whom have their shops in Jerusalem.
But once Jesus leaves Galilee behind him and prepares to enter the gates of Jerusalem, he will find himself on enemy territory. Matthew has forecast this rejection of Jesus by the religious leaders from the start, leaving no doubt as to their stand on him. Their hostility intensifies as the gospel has moved along, forewarning us that bad times are around the corner when Jesus makes his way into the Holy City.
In short, Jerusalem is the line of demarcation. Not because it is called the Holy City and everything outside it is unholy, but just the opposite. It is the home to the Pharisees and other religious leaders who have put their sights on Jesus, believing him to be a rabble-rouser and a troublemaker because of his questioning the status quo, suggesting a radically new way of living in the world, a way where all live as one, not a world where the sick, the sinner, and the stranger are considered outcasts.
Although it is subtle, Matthew’s text today tells us as much, drawing for us that dividing line between outside Jerusalem and inside Jerusalem. The most obvious signal is found in the two crowds that are presented to us today. There is the crowd on the road that leads to Jerusalem. They cut branches from trees to lay at the feet of Jesus as he rides the donkey towards the city gates, a sign of respect and honor, comparable to our red carpet treatment of dignitaries.
More importantly, we want to hear what they shout as they walk before Jesus as he makes his way. They cry out, “Hosanna to the Son of David, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.” Their acclamations attest to their belief that Jesus is the Son of David, an important title in Judaism, the long-awaited Messiah promised to be a descendant of David.
Here, at the edge of Jerusalem, we find the answer to the question that Matthew has put at the heart of his gospel. That question from the start has been “Who is Jesus?” It is most clearly found in the question that Jesus asks his disciples midway through his journey, “Who do people say that I am?” Now, the answer is provided by the crowds outside the gates. Jesus is the Son of David.
But, take notice of the crowds inside Jerusalem. They have no clue who Jesus is, asking others around them, “Who is this?” Crowds from inside the city answered, “This is Jesus the prophet, from Nazareth in Galilee.” There is quite a difference between a prophet and the Son of David. Prophets, true and false, were a well-known feature in Judaism. Furthermore, the crowds inside the gates are quick to point out that Jesus is from Nazareth in Galilee. We would be right to hear a tone of derision in those words, the city folk dismissive of their country cousins up north in backwoods Galilee.
We find that attitude expressed forthrightly in John’s gospel when Nathaniel, upon hearing of Jesus, says, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” His words express the highbrowed and high-handed beliefs about the country folk up in the environs of Nazareth, considered a nowhere place with nobody of consequence. Most scholars suggest that we read into this response of the Jerusalem crowd this ridicule,, perhaps even sarcasm.
In short, we find two very different answers as to who Jesus is. One answer finds in him the promised Messiah. The other answer paints him as just another prophet from the backwoods, out to stir up the city folk, little different from the soapbox preachers we find on big city corners. He’s come to the city to stir up trouble.
One sure sign of that belief is found in the verse, “The whole city was shaken and asked, “Who is this?” It is one of three times that Matthew uses the word “shook.” This is the first. The second is at the moment of Jesus’ death when the earth shook. The third is right before the resurrection when a great earthquake shook the ground.
Having looked more closely at this passage from the gospel, I think it is fair to ask ourselves an important question that stares us in the face. That question is, “How far are we willing to walk with Jesus?” The city gates of Jerusalem still stand before us, posing the same question to us. Outside the gates, life is pretty safe and secure for us. It is easy enough for us to stand with the crowds on the road leading into Jerusalem, proclaiming Jesus as the Son of David.
But life inside the gates presents us with a far different picture. Now, surrounded by harsh critics and skeptical crowds within the city walls, are we so quick to stand beside Jesus, or, like the disciples, do we run for cover when the danger comes for us? In my mind, this may be the central question that is put before us on this Palm Sunday. It is one that we can only answer for ourselves.
But the reality that stares us in the face is that true discipleship requires a commitment on our parts not to stop at the city gates, staying within our safe surroundings, but to walk into the danger zone, ready to stand alongside Jesus as he shakes up the world with his message. Is our commitment strong enough to get us to the cross, or do we bail, choosing not to face the threats and the troubles that are always part and parcel of faithful discipleship?
Put plainly, it is the choice between being cowards and being Christ-like. Cowards, for their part, take the path of least resistance. Rather than stand out from the crowd, they hide in the crowd, comfortable in anonymity, not wanting any confrontation or conflict that might come from taking a position different from the masses who want their world to stay the same, to remain unshaken.
For those choosing to be Christ-like, the status quo is no golden calf that requires worship and homage. Instead, like Jesus, these individuals walk bravely into the city, willing to face criticism, able to withstand the onslaught of the crowds who are quick to pigeonhole them as troublemakers or as leftist loonies because they protest the injustice they find when the poor are neglected, the hungry are not fed, and the powerless are denied a voice.
Christ-like disciples do not draw the line at the point where the cheering stops or where the criticism starts. They expect as much because Jesus did not promise a lazy-boy chair to rest in, but instead a wooden cross to carry. They understand that the powers of this world are intent on silencing those who follow the path of Jesus. Those same powers killed Jesus and they do not hesitate to use force to stop those who imitate his care for the widow, the orphan, and the stranger.
The season of Lent is meant to challenge us to conform our lives more closely with that of Jesus who healed the leper, welcomed the outcast, and embraced the sinner. We have been given forty days to get our act together. That has been the sole purpose of this special time, allowing us the space to step away from the noise of the crowds in this world.
Instead, we are asked to enter a desert where we come face to face with our faults and our failures to follow Jesus, admitting to ourselves that our actions often contradict our words. We take a long, careful look into our hearts, asking ourselves if we have a heart of flesh or a heart of stone. If the latter, then we
beg God to change our hearts so that we can be more like the heart of his beloved Son.
The truth is there are very few days left in this season of Lent, and the results of our testing ourselves will soon enough be shown. The moment comes for all of us when we stand at the gates of Jerusalem, asking ourselves if we are strong enough to enter through them, knowing that on the other side is a cross, or deciding that we simply don’t have the guts to take the next step.
It is always the moment of truth for us, those gates of Jerusalem. They tell us not only how far we have come, but also how far we still have to go. Peering over the walls of the city, we see in the distance a wooden cross, visible in the setting sun, calling us to draw closer, close enough to look into the face of Jesus and say, “Hosanna to the Son of David; blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”
–Jeremy Myers
Sunday Brunch 