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| Grammatical Caveat: Because sermons are meant to be preached and are therefore prepared with the emphasis on verbal presentation (i.e., are written for the ear), the written accounts occasionally deviate from proper and generally accepted principles of grammar and punctuation. Most often, these deviations are not mistakes per se but are indicative of an attempt to aid the listener in the delivery of the sermon. |
Choosing Flesh and Love
Matthew 21.1-11
Palm Sunday
04/05/2020
Palm Sunday is when things started to change for Jesus. Some two thousand years removed; it continues to be a pivotal point in the life of the church that moves us from the frailty of life to the fullness of life in Christ. Today starts the high point of the church’s cycle of feasts and fasts during which the mystery of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection unfold as the pattern of our life as Christians. Today sets in motion a series of events that will change the world forever.
Even today, this Sunday, things are changing. Outside, creation is stirring, and flowers are slowly emerging from their tombs beneath the soil. Birds who spent the winter days in warmer weather frequent our birdfeeders and the Spring sky stays illuminated well past 7 pm. Change is inevitable, and creation's change when left to herself, is always moving toward restoration. The dormancy of winter will not deter creation from springing forth and answering the stones who are shouting ‘save us!’
Inside the church, things are changing, too. Currently, our pews are empty, our hymnals are left unopened, and the church mouse gleefully roams from room to room without any interruptions. We are living into Christ's command to love as he loved by remaining safe at home and worshipping together separately. The disruption of this pandemic will not deter us from being Christ’s body to each other and responding the pleas to ‘save us!’
Today we change from the purple of Lent to the red of Passiontide and see first hand the inauguration of God’s reign on earth. For the last five weeks, we have walked with Jesus on his way to Jerusalem. With ashes on our foreheads, we've wandered lost with Jesus in the wilderness, discovered our purpose in the darkness with Nicodemus, and encountered the Divine at the well with the Samaritan woman. We paid attention to the glory of God in a man who "was once blind but now could see," and were liberated by Christ's grief and command to be unbound by whatever entombs. Our journey leads us to the start of a parade where we see once more Christ’s unwavering faith to God’s call of justice, mercy, and love. God’s people shout, ‘save us,’ and by way of solidarity and not sovereignty God responds in Christ.
All of this comes to a head today, Palm Sunday. It is Sunday when things start to change. The gospel writer tells us in verse 10 that the city was in turmoil. Because the crowds can’t see beyond their fear, they no longer hear the promises of God in Christ, and so they change their 'save us' to 'crucify him.' The anger of the people thickens the plot to kill Jesus, especially as he confronts the religious leaders and their complacency in serving the empire instead of God. Perhaps the most significant change comes from the disciples. In a matter of a week, they go from saying, "Let's go to Jerusalem and die with him," to pretend as if they've never met their rabbi.
Change. So much change, and it began with a triumphal entry into Jerusalem.
It all seems to be going well, right? Jesus enters the city, the crowd cut branches from the trees and waves them, singing hosannas in royal welcome. The chants, the welcome, and even the donkey indicate the coming of the Messiah in humility and peace. It is such a joyful occasion. The one whom the people have been waiting for; the one whom they've heard stories about; the one whom will deliver them arrives, and they shout, "Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!" The prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee is here, the people declare. The world is about to change.
The hailing of Jesus as Sovereign is troubling for the established order. In their shouts, the people express their new hope in Christ, which means Messiah—confessing Jesus as the Sovereign One challenges the dominant culture's accepted norms, and thus, the last straw for the religious leaders. Jesus was a threat because the power he embodies is that of reliance on God and God's way of sharing extravagantly so that all are included in the divine blessing. Christ is no ruthless and domineering Caesar but a loving companion. He does not bully, tweet, name call, or bloviate. He rules from among us, embracing our mortality, feeling our pain, and rejoicing in our success.
The implications of the new reign of God Jesus is revealing has direct consequences to his followers. Chances are, they will not be easy friends with economic leaders or shopkeepers who benefit from bilking the poor. After all, in a trickle-down economy, these are the folks defying the imago Dei of people by seeing them as expendable objects—either in person or as market share or symbolic notations on a strategic battle plan. Furthermore, Jesus isn't about being exclusive and at the beck and call of a few holy people. Instead, Jesus is embodying God's radical hospitality and expanding the love of God to include all people--especially those are on the margins. Jesus came not to be served, but to serve. In Christ we see the love of God poured out for all the world, Afterall, God sent Christ not to condemn it but to save it. Palm Sunday is the inauguration of the new empire—one rooted in justice, mercy, and love.
So, what happens? Why the change? The crowds following Jesus in Matthew's gospel are very clear about who they believe him to be when they hail him as the Son of David at his entry into Jerusalem. This title ties him to the hope that someone like David would come and lead them back to when things were good, like the good ole days of the past.
And yet, they change. Declarations and expectations fade quickly. Hopeful pleas of deliverance, "Save us "(which is what Hosanna means), turn to cowardly chants for crucifixion. The people wanted immediate political liberation, and Jesus offered a different kind, one that considered the entirety of the world. Where the people wanted a legion of soldiers, they got a humble Christ riding on a donkey. Where they wanted the pomp and circumstance, they got a gentle servant who preached good news instead of an oligarchist who proliferated false news. Too caught up in their fear and the collective uncertainty of the city, the crowds couldn't see the new reign of power unfolding right before their very eyes. They couldn't see that in Christ, the marginalized are no longer shunned but are touched by the holy despite their imperfections, and they are ushered into the very presence of God in Jesus. When Jesus does not mount a military campaign because his reign is not of this world and because he chooses to use his power to fulfill the promises of God, the crowd turns on him, and that’s when things started to change.
The truth of the matter is that we see a bit of ourselves in the crowd, especially this year. As life changes daily during this pandemic, our prayers sound like the crowd’s shouts, “Save us!” With so much of our lives as individuals and as a community in turmoil, we are faced with the question, “In whom do we place our hope?” Blessed is the one who comes in the name of God—the one who emptied himself in order that we may know life fully. No market manipulation or crude ruler will save us. Only God can do that and has in the person who came riding humbly on a donkey.
The story is comforting, too. It reminds us that as a people of faith, we’ve been in situations like this before. The week ahead reminds us that in the tragic beauty of life, we will experience plenty of grief – the ambiguous Last Supper, the surprising betrayal, the violent cross, and the liminal uncertainty of Holy Saturday – before we experience the Joyful Resurrection of Jesus and ourselves.
We are in the midst of change unlike we’ve ever experienced.
Except for one thing—Christ’s faithfulness to God’s love for the world.
The question before us, church, is will we be faithful until the end?
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