Sermon: “Hosanna!”

Text: Mark 11:1-11

Palm Sunday (B)

April 5, 2009

Scripture introduction.  Our second reading this morning is from the Gospel according to Mark, the 11^th chapter, recounting the triumphal entry of Jesus into the city of Jerusalem.  While in John’s Gospel Jesus takes several trips to Jerusalem, Mark places Jesus there only once—in the last week of his earthly life.  The church calendar follows the one-week pattern laid down by Mark, Matthew, and Luke.  Today, called “Palm Sunday” because of the text that we are about to read, is the beginning of our remembrance of that week, which we now call Holy Week.  The mood of Palm Sunday is guardedly triumphant, for on the one hand we celebrate the lordship of Jesus Christ and, like the ancient residents of Jerusalem, acknowledge him to be our king.  Yet, especially as this service ends and as we remember the further events of Jesus’ week in Jerusalem—his last supper with his disciples on Maundy Thursday, his anguished prayer in the garden, his betrayal, trial, crucifixion, and burial—our mood must turn more somber. 

Of course all this culminates next Sunday on Easter, when we will hear the glorious news of his resurrection; but the full joy of Easter can come only because of, and through, the suffering and sacrifice that precedes it.  It has been our practice to read all the texts of Holy Week—even the somber ones—during the second half of this service.  This year, however, because we have the Lord’s Supper on Palm Sunday, we have removed these more solemn readings.  Thus, it is even more important that you participate in the later services this week—Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, and on Saturday night the Great Easter Vigil with our Episcopal friends.  I guarantee that these services will add richness to your Easter celebrations. 

Sermon.  I have heard a lot of sermons that emphasize just how badly the residents of ancient Jerusalem misunderstood Jesus.  They were expecting a political and military messiah; and they mistakenly thought Jesus was the one who would save them from the Romans and would restore them once again to autonomy and to favored status among the nations of the world.  When Jesus did not measure up to these expectations, the crowds, who on Palm Sunday had hailed him as Messiah, by Friday had turned against him and then allowed the Romans to execute him as a common criminal.  That’s the basic narrative, and it’s probably the way the author of Mark’s Gospel intended for us to hear the story.  However, the more I study this passage, the more sympathetic I am to the people of Jerusalem.  For as the events unfolded on Palm Sunday, Jesus himself accepted all the praise that the people were willing to offer; and he did not attempt to correct them or to provide a more nuanced view of how he would be their Messiah.  Consider what Mark tells us.

As Jesus approached Jerusalem, the first thing he did was to send two of the disciples off to a nearby village to obtain a young donkey so that he could ride it into the city.  Jesus asked for the donkey; it was not someone else’s idea.  This was not standard operating procedure for Jesus, who walked everywhere that he went.  Riding the donkey was highly symbolic.  While it may seem strange to us, in the ancient Near East donkeys and mules were often considered “royal animals.”[1]  For example, King David rode a mule; and David ordered that his son Solomon be seated on David’s mule in preparation for Solomon’s anointment as king.[2]  More specifically, in the Old Testament book of Zechariah the prophet had written, “Rejoice greatly, daughter of Zion; proclaim, daughter of Jerusalem: Look, your king is coming to you, righteous and a savior is he; humble and riding on a donkey and a new colt.” [3]  By Jesus’ day, this prophecy had come to be understood as a reference to the long-expected Messiah,[4] the “anointed one” who would deliver the Jews from their oppression and would usher in an age of peace and prosperity for all nations.  And the author of Mark’s Gospel is careful to note that the donkey Jesus rode was a colt (which could refer to a donkey as well as a horse) that had “never been ridden,” which is exactly what Zechariah had prophesied—a “new colt.”

Moreover, the two disciples were instructed simply to take the donkey, explaining to any who might question them that “the Lord needs it” and will return it.  In the ancient world only a king or a governor—certainly not an itinerant preacher—would have had the right to demand the use of an animal.  Exercising such a right, telling the disciples to refer to him as Lord (the same word used to describe the Holy God), and riding on the donkey just as Zechariah had prophesied of the Messiah, Jesus was making some pretty strong claims as he entered the gates of Jerusalem.

According to commentator Joel Marcus, when the disciples took off their cloaks and fashioned them into an improvised saddle for Jesus, that act, too, was rich in symbolism.  The clothes represented the person; so they were saying, in effect, “You sit upon us; we are beneath you.”[5]  That is the sort of respect that kings enjoy, as the subjects intentionally place themselves on a lower level by bowing.  And the people of Jerusalem went even further, actually spreading their clothes on the road on which Jesus’ donkey walked.  Palm branches, too, were laid down, repeating what the people had done when, 170 years before, the great Jewish liberator, Simon Maccabaeus, had entered Jerusalem after leading a successful revolt against the Greeks.[6] 

And there’s more.  When Jesus entered the city, the people cried out “Hosanna!”  We have heard this word many times on Palm Sunday, but we may not know that in Hebrew it means, “Please, save [us]!”  It is not a term of praise.  It is a cry for deliverance.  In the Old Testament, the cry is directed to God; and now the people are making the same appeal to Jesus.  The word, “Hosanna,” as well as the sentence, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord,” are both quotations from Psalm 118, which was our first reading this morning.  By the time of Jesus, Psalm 118 was interpreted by some as a reference to the coming Messiah.[7]  Clearly, the people were connecting Jesus with their hopes for the Messiah, the prophesied descendant of King David.  This becomes explicit as the crowd chants, “Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!”  They understood Jesus to be their Messiah, and they understood that he was about to establish his kingdom.

I conclude from all of this that Jesus new exactly what he was doing and accurately anticipated the response of the crowds.  In all of his ministry leading up to Palm Sunday, as he taught and healed and performed wonders in Galilee, he had been reluctant to identify himself publicly as the Messiah.[8]  But as he set his face to go to Jerusalem and to meet the dangers that lay before him, he must have decided that now was the time to claim his title.  So there was nothing incorrect in what the people did on Palm Sunday.  Jesus was the long-prophesied and expected Messiah.  He was the true king of Israel and the son of God, the one who would be “a light to all the nations.”[9]  So on Palm Sunday, the people were right to give Jesus their donkey, to place their garments under him, and to salute him with palm branches as he entered the gates of the Holy City.  They were right to cry out to him for deliverance and for salvation. 

The mistakes of the people came later in the week, as Jesus challenged their notions of what the Messiah would do.  Rather than condemning the Romans, he criticized the hypocrisy of the most respected Jewish leaders.  He held his own people to the highest standards.  He insisted that reform begin in their own hearts.  They had assumed that other people were the problem; but he showed them how they, too, were part of the problem.  And he challenged them to live a life of love, even for the enemy, the hardest duty that any king could demand.

The lesson for us is not to point out the misunderstandings of ancient Jews, but rather to consider how our understandings of Jesus’ kingship may, like theirs, be inadequate.  Any time we assume that king Jesus is on our side and against someone else, we should remember that he died for all.  If ever we think we can tell who is in, and who is not in, the kingdom of God, we should remember that this good Shepherd has flocks that we do not even know about.[10]  If we ever think that faith in Jesus is a way of getting what we want, we should remember how for us Jesus gave up what he wanted.  He willingly accepted death on a cross and now calls us to take up our crosses and to follow him.[11]  We are right to cry out, “Hosanna! Save us!,” for he will; but as soon as he saves us he calls us to be his followers and to feed all his sheep.[12]  Without a doubt, it is right for our children to wave their palms.  It is right for us on this day to acknowledge Jesus as king and Lord and Messiah.  But let’s let him define for us what that means.

His definition begins with a banquet—a royal banquet to which we have personal invitations.  The table is large and round as the earth itself, and the loaves and wine multiply to feed each citizen of the kingdom.  He prepares a table before us in the presence of our enemies;[13] and then he calls us to love those enemies and to invite them to the banquet, too.  Feeding us with his own self, he provides us the spiritual nourishment necessary for our service.  May this rich banquet help us understand the true nature of the kingdom of Christ, and through this meal may that kingdom come near to our hearts.