Scripture John 12:12-19
The next day the great crowd that had come to the festival heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem. So they took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, shouting,
“Hosanna!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord—
the King of Israel!”
Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it, as it is written:
“Do not be afraid, daughter of Zion.
Look, your king is coming,
sitting on a donkey’s colt!”
His disciples did not understand these things at first, but when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered that these things had been written of him and had been done to him. So the crowd that had been with him when he called Lazarus out of the tomb and raised him from the dead continued to testify. It was also because they heard that he had performed this sign that the crowd went to meet him. The Pharisees then said to one another, “You see, you can do nothing. Look, the world has gone after him!”
Sermon
On a bookcase right near the place I sit to write my sermons is a framed photograph of my children, Ned and Joan, when they are thirteen and eight years old, respectively. In the picture they are standing together with a phalanx of enormous snowmen behind them. We are at the 74th Annual Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, in midtown Manhattan, and after years of watching it on TV, we are all caught up in the thrill of being there in person.
We are also caught up in a mass of humanity it’s hard to describe, estimated to be something over three-million people spread all along the parade route. People crush in on every side. You can see the sleeve of a stranger’s ski jacked just behind Joan’s head. Creating space for an eight-year-old to able to see the floats as they passed was quite a challenge.
And, as sometimes happened when I had my children in a loud, crowded public space, an anxiety began to encroach, and a sense that this maybe wasn’t the safest situation in the world. It was loud, chaotic, and confusing. Time has softened the hard edges of that day, reducing it to an adorable picture I love and a happy memory. But when I really think about it? It was stressful experience.
This morning Jesus is in a kind of parade—one he takes part in deliberately. Peter, who has been the focus of so much of our reflection this Lent, is nowhere to be seen. He has no dialogue. He asks no questions. But he is definitely there, of course, as are all the disciples, witnessing Jesus’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem. And it’s easy to imagine that they are all overwhelmed, probably filled with anxiety, and wondering, on some level, what is going on.
By way of some background information, Jews would flock from all over the known world to make their way to that holy city on that very day. The Passover was about to begin, and faithful pilgrims would be flowing in from near and far. All able-bodied Jews within fifteen miles were required to attend. Jesus and the disciples would have walked a total of about ninety miles from the time he announced to them his intention to go to Jerusalem, where he would suffer, and die, and be raised from the dead.
Because this was a religious pilgrimage, the walk would have taken on a festive tone. People traveled with family groups and groups of neighbors. As they drew near to Jerusalem they would begin singing psalms, especially those called “psalms of ascent”—written for pilgrims to sing as they traveled that last stretch up the hill to the Temple. The psalm we heard today is about 2,500 years old, which means it was about 500 years old that day, when the people around Jesus were singing it. It’s a psalm of victory—the victory of God in rescuing God’s people from exile, returning them to Judah, and helping them to rebuild the Temple which had been destroyed. “Open the gates that God’s people may come in!” the people sing. “Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord!”
Now, this psalm and others would have been sung on this day, whether or not Jesus was there. But the presence of Jesus, as we see in our passage, evokes a special joy, a sense of triumph in the people. And it gives the psalm, not just an historical meaning, but a very contemporary one. Jesus is the One who has come in the name of the Lord. Of course, we know that Jesus’ disciples are there. Don’t forget: they are a group larger than the inner circle, the twelve. They consist of men, women and children who have been following Jesus for much of that 90-mile journey. But the Gospel according to John tells us who is there specifically to see Jesus: both the people who had just a few days earlier witnessed Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, and the people who had heard the testimony of those who saw Jesus perform that miracle. The crowd focused on Jesus is so significant, the religious authorities complain about it: “Look. The whole world is following him.”
There is another parade taking place this same day, however. It’s not a joyful and chaotic procession of people from all walks of life, heading to the Temple to celebrate the Passover. The celebration of Passover was a thorn in the side of the occupying Roman government. Passover was and is the remembrance of an oppressed people escaping slavery and finding freedom through the power of God. For this reason, other people claiming the title “messiah” had, on multiple occasions, incited riots and uprisings during the festival. So, the Roman Empire rolled out their army in a show of strength and intimidation. While Jesus is riding into Jerusalem on a young donkey, Pontius Pilate is riding into Jerusalem at the head of a battalion of Roman cavalry and foot soldiers, all armed to the teeth.
As Pilate rides in one gate, Jesus rides in another. One of them is armed with the power of Caesar and hundreds of troops, each of them wearing bronze Corinthian helmets, chest plates, and greaves to protect their legs. Each member of the cavalry carries a heavy lance, a longsword, and a spear. The other is armed as Paul might describe it, wearing the belt of truth and the breastplate of righteousness; sandals laced to share the gospel of peace; the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is to say, God’s Word (Ephesians 6:13-17). One of them comes proclaiming the power of Caesar. The other comes proclaiming the power of God. The contrast is stunning. Each of them, Pilate and Jesus, is armed for an entirely different kind of encounter.
No wonder John tells us the disciples are confused, that they do not understand these things at first. Of course, they know Pilate and his soldiers are rolling into town. But Jesus’s absolute boldness at making his entry simultaneously must have been unsettling. Later, John tells us, they remember. Later—when Jesus’ death has led once again to life, when they meet Jesus in the upper room on the evening of Easter day, and again later on the beach, these things fall into place for them. But only later, when they remember.
I encourage you to notice how many times you hear the word “remember” this Holy Week. On Maundy Thursday, when we celebrate the Lord’s Supper and then strip the sanctuary in preparation for Good Friday, you will hear that word: remember. On Good Friday, when we gather to hear the story of the passion and watch the growing shadows, you will hear that word: remember. And on Easter Sunday, every Christian’s most jubilant day of the year, you will hear that word: remember.
Remember, you will hear. Remember what God has done. Remember, and sing songs of loudest praise.
Thanks be to God. Amen.