Palm Sunday: Triumphal Entry

Mark 11:1-11

When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, ‘Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, “Why are you doing this?” just say this, “The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.”’

They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, ‘What are you doing, untying the colt?’ They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,

“Hosanna!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.

Last Saturday, the families on my block made a plan to be out on their front yard at 10:00 am — a safe distance apart, to sing Happy Birthday to a neighbor kid turning nine. His family would intentionally be a few minutes late. He was told there was a surprise waiting for him outside. So his parents blindfolded him, ushered him out of the house, and carefully guided him down the driveway until they reached the street. When Mom took the blindfold off — everyone began to sing Happy Birthday as loud as we could, not the most beautiful rendition, but it was sung with lots of gusto and ended with cheers and applause.

It was a lovely gesture. About all we could do for his birthday in light of our current directive to stay home. I would expect that the celebration was a little anticlimactic for a 9 year old, maybe even disappointing. I remember my kids at that age — birthdays were a big deal, expectations were high for a celebration with family and friends, gifts and cake — a day to be in the spotlight. This wasn’t that. 

Paying attention to how today’s Gospel story is actually written might result in some disappointment as well. The story’s familiar — it gets told in church every year at this time, usually with lots of fanfare, favorite hymns, special instrumentation, a full sanctuary with children waving palms as they enter the sanctuary, singing Hosanna with all who are gathered for worship. This year’s Palm Sunday is so… not that. To say we’re “disappointed” fails to capture the heaviness that lives in our hearts at this time.

But maybe the uniqueness of this moment gives us space to hear something different, something we’ve missed with the pomp and circumstance of past Palm Sundays.

The story is included in all four gospels, each account a little different than the other, depending on the author and the audience. 

Matthew, Mark and Luke give most of their attention to what happens before Jesus enters Jerusalem. They describe in great detail how Jesus gives two disciples instructions for securing his transportation — a particular colt or donkey and colt. Jesus tells the disciples what to do, where to go, what will happen and what to say.

John’s gospel is different. In John’s gospel Jesus walks into the city. He makes his way by foot through the cheering crowds, who wave their palm branches and shout their Hosannas. Then he finds the donkey himself and sits on it. He’s making a point. He’s letting them know that they may be welcoming him as king but he’s not the kind of king they expect. His power is made known in humility and vulnerability. His throne is a donkey. His Kingdom is shaped by love.

There’s more drama in Matthew and Luke’s gospel, then in Mark’s. After Jesus rides through Jerusalem, Matthew writes that the whole city is in turmoil wondering who is this Jesus. In Luke, after the parade, there’s a confrontation between Jesus and the religious leaders, the Pharisees. They want Jesus to control the crowd, to silence the cheers. Jesus won’t. And then Jesus weeps. He weeps over the city — anticipating the future of its total destruction that will come at the hands of the Romans.

In Mark’s gospel — there’s very little drama. Jesus makes his way through the crowd, through Jerusalem, the Hosannas, into the Temple… and what happens next? He looks around at everything and… leaves. Nothing happens. He and his disciples go back to Bethany. 

After all the detailed directions Jesus gives to get things just right with the donkey, after all the Hosannas, the pomp and circumstance from the people who have gathered to greet him, after this great build up of a triumphant entry, we get nothing from Jesus.

I’ve not given much attention to this part of the story before. Jesus, just looking around and then leaving isn’t the story the church tells on Palm Sunday. I get why not. It’s so disappointing — after all Hosannas, after all the fanfare and fuss. It’s not what we hope for, it’s not what we expect. But it is the story Mark’s gospel tells: This momentous day of Jesus’ entering Jerusalem filled with Hosannas ends with a quiet exit stage right. 

What are we supposed to do with that?

  Maybe Mark tells this story, in this way, to call attention to something that often goes unnoticed. 

Go back to where the scene starts and we’re met with LOTS of mundane details about fetching a donkey. In fact it makes up the majority of the story. The fanfare is described in very few words, not much more than the cheers of the crowd: “Hosanna, blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord, Hosanna in the highest.” 

The bulk of the story is Jesus giving specific instructions about what he needs the disciples to do and the disciples doing what he commands.

There’s nothing glamorous about the work. No prestige. It’s the stuff that happens behind the scenes that few ever know about. But it sure seems to matter to Jesus. Donkey duty is ordinary work, not a big deal but from this story we learn it is fulfilling the will of God; it is preparing the way of the Lord.

That’s how Mark’s gospel begins, with the voice of John the Baptist, crying out in the wilderness, calling people to ‘Prepare the way of the Lord.” As the story unfolds about Jesus and God’s kingdom that exists through him, we learn what life for Jesus’ disciples entails. They get boats ready for Jesus, they distribute bread to the hungry, they make arrangements for the last supper, they find a donkey for Jesus. The work seems so ordinary, but the ordinary always holds space for the extraordinary when Jesus enters in. When Jesus shows up, lives are transformed. Where Jesus enters in hope lives. Love reigns.

  Maria Bucka, Bethlehem organist and Director of Music shared some stories with me this past week. I’ve been encouraging staff to shift their communication practices from email to phone calls whenever possible during this time of quarantine. Because we’re created to be in community, hearing another voice and seeing another’s face — even if only on a screen is good medicine for our souls. 

So Maria’s been giving time and energy to staying connected by phone. She started with those who usually worship at the 8:00 am service at the Minneapolis campus. She shared some stories she’s been hearing: Muriel’s calling Shannon regularly, even though Shannon left Bethlehem last fall to take a job out east. Andrew and Kelsey are grocery shopping for Todd and Catherine. I’ve learned that Lois has made a commitment to call one person every day during the stay at home directive, and that Judy along with many others are making masks. Some of you are getting things ready for the new way of hosting Families Moving Forward. 

It may seem like ordinary work — but remember ordinary always holds space for extraordinary. When Jesus shows up, where Jesus enters in… hope lives and love reigns.

Many of you are fervent in prayer. Some are working on the front lines to help us better mitigate the disease. And some are utterly exhausted — life feels so foggy, it’s hard to focus, the disruption and grief because of this pandemic feels too much to bear. Remember to breathe. To be gentle with yourself. This is important work too. 

Few may notice but people taking care, people caring for each other, holding space for the other, staying in touch and supporting another matters deeply to God. Tending to these kinds of things is the will of God. It’s Kingdom work, preparing the way of the Lord, that all would experience the saving love of Christ.

Back to last Saturday… after the neighborhood sang Happy Birthday, after the cheers and applause there was one more surprise. The birthday boy wasn’t disappointed at all. He was moved by the gesture of love. He fell into his mother’s arms and cried. After a bit, he turned back toward his neighbors and through tears said “thank you.” 

And in that moment those who gathered were blessed by a glimpse of the Kingdom of God. 

Let all God’s people say “Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna!” We give God thanks and praise for Jesus and his love.” Amen.