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1 When
they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of
Olives, he sent two of his disciples 2 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. 3 If anyone says to you,
‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it
back here immediately.’” 4 They went away and found a colt tied near a door,
outside in the street. As they were untying it, 5 some of the bystanders said
to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” 6 They told them what Jesus
had said; and they allowed them to take it. 7 Then they brought the colt to
Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. 8 Many people spread
their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in
the fields. 9 Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,
“Hosanna!
Blessed
is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
10 Blessed is the coming kingdom of our
ancestor David!
Hosanna
in the highest heaven!”
11
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.
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I
want us to imagine what the Triumphal Entry actually looked like. It’s an
important story. It’s included in all four of the gospels, each telling the
same story but with their own small yet significant details. The version we
just heard from the Gospel of Mark has its own thing that sets it apart from
the other versions, and we’ll get to that and why it’s a necessary part of the
story. But first, as I said, I want us to imagine what the Triumphal Entry
actually looked like.
We
have people from all over, from the towns and the countryside, gathered
together for one purpose. To symbolize one thing. To share in one thing. They raised
palm branches in the air, waving them as they cried out together, “Hosanna!
Hosanna! Lord, save us!” They cheered together; they chanted together. And
Jesus along with his followers marched forward toward the city knowing full
well that this city would send him to the cross; send him to his death. And yet
still he marched. To resist wrong authority, he marched. To protest the
finality of death, he marched. To bring salvation to his people, he marched. Christ
marched forward. But not everybody liked it.
It’s
not too different from what marches look like today. People coming together
from different places for one reason. They make signs to raise in the air; they
cheer and chant and cry out together. And they resist and they protest and they
bring forth change. They march… and people don’t like it.
Kind
of like the March for Our Lives march that took place in D.C. and all across
our country, including here in South Bend. Now I’m not going to get into gun
reform; that’s not what this sermon is about. We had an Adult Formation class a
few weeks ago that was specifically on that topic, which provided a safe space
for healthy dialogue and continued progress. I’m thankful for that. And so, I’m
not going to talk about gun reform; that’s not today’s point. But I am going to
talk about something I saw happen before, during, and after the marches.
I
believe in healthy and safe protest. I believe that all people, both
conservative and liberal, children and adults, have the right to protest and
should do so when they believe we could be doing better. While I personally
thought it was incredible for people to come together for something they
believe in, there were some people who didn’t like that people were gathering
together. Threats were made against the people gathering together. All across
the country people threatened to bring guns to a protest on gun reform. And you
can’t just say these are empty words. We remember what happened to the march in
Charlottesville where someone physically drove a car through a parade of
people, killing one and hurting many others. And South Bend actually wasn’t any
different; our own city experienced an outcry of rage from people who didn’t like
that others were gathering. Fortunately, from what I saw, no threats of bringing
guns were made, but following the march, I was on the internet reading the news
stories that covered the march. And then I read the comments. Never read the
comments. Have you ever heard that piece of advice? Never read the comments. I
get it. I get why they say that. Because for every five positive comments,
there is at least one harsh, negative, demeaning, hateful comment.
The
negative comments from our own march here in South Bend said things such as,
“I’m leaving South Bend for hosting such a thing” and “No progress was made
today”. There was a comment directly made at youth who were there, and let me
tell you, there were many youth there. The comment said the youth are
“indoctrinated Hitler Youth march[ing] for the new Fourth Reich in South Bend”.
And then there was another comment that stood to me. It said, “I hope all these
marchers get pneumonia.” Pneumonia…
I
think this comment stands out to me because the last time I preached from the
pulpit it was on Mark 1:29-39. If you remember, that passage tells us about the
time Jesus healed the mother-in-law of Simon, one of his followers. He healed
this woman of a fever. And in that sermon, we talked about the severity of a
fever and how it could have led to death. Pneumonia can lead to death. For some
of us, we know pneumonia has led to death…
In
the Triumphal Entry, people waved palms crying out, “Hosanna! Lord, save us!”
as Jesus marched. And when Jesus marched, some people must have already been
whispering, “I wish he would die” for just a few days later these people sentenced
him to death. At the March for Our Lives, people waved signs crying out,
“Enough is enough! Save our kids!” as they marched. And in the same way, some
people whispered through the means of the internet, “I wish these people would
fall ill.” But despite the threats, the ill-wishings, the negative comments; people
still marched. Jesus still marched.
And
I can’t help but imagine, Jesus who is the Son of God and is God, knew he was
marching to his death for he is All-Knowing and All-Powerful, the courage he
must have had to keep marching. That same courage that comes from God that
shows in the people who march today.
Because
like the people who march today and like Jesus who marched so long ago, there’s
this critical juxtaposition of emotion happening. I’m sure there’s hope knowing
people have gathered together to bring positive change. There must also be fear
for all the things that could happen. And I’m sure there is also sadness as
Jesus considers what has already happened and what will happen. I can’t help
but feel overwhelmed thinking of all that Jesus must have been feeling, how
much raw emotion must have been there, and the time and space it would take to
process and accept all those emotions. But Mark’s version of the Triumphal
Entry has a detail that I think is crucial to the story.
At
the end of our passage, after Jesus has marched forward to Jerusalem, after the
people waved their branches and spread their cloaks, after loud cries of
“Hosanna” were heard—Jesus heads into the temple late at night. There he takes
a moment to pause, to look around, and after “seeing everything,” he leaves. I
read multiple commentaries on our passage today, and they all describe how
anticlimactic that moment seems to be: that following his triumphal entry into
Jerusalem, Jesus enters the temple, and then he leaves the temple.
But
I have to disagree. Jesus entering the temple to take a moment for himself is
exactly what I need to see Jesus do. It’s so very human. I believe that Jesus
just like the rest of us would have been resistant to his upcoming death with
every fiber of his being, but he made the choice to die for us because he loved
us. When we cried, “Save us!” to Jesus, he responded with salvation. So even
though he was willing to die, I don’t think Jesus would have wanted to die.
That moment in the temple, that moment alone in his Father’s house, that moment
late at night when everyone else was in their homes; I believe Jesus took a
moment to accept what he needed to do, and when he accepted what was to come,
he moved forward with further courage and strength. He was preparing himself
for the cross.
As I
said, this moment is so very human. When we approach something that will be
filled with great sadness or when we approach something that will break our
hearts, we are told to prepare ourselves. You know what I’m talking about. As
we have conversations with loved ones that we don’t want to have. As we enter
into the hospital room. As we witness the death of the people we love. As we
grieve at their funerals. As we continue to live our own lives without them. We
do our best to prepare ourselves for each of these moments.
One
of the best pieces of advice I received when working as a chaplain intern in a
hospital was to prepare myself every single time I entered into hospital room.
At first, I thought this meant to gather as much information as possible. To
read up on the patient’s diagnosis. To learn about their family history. To
have scripture and prayers ready for them. But this isn’t what my teachers
meant. In fact, some of the experienced chaplains would look up the patient’s
diagnosis before they met the patient… and some wouldn’t. No, what they meant
was to emotionally prepare yourself so that you as the chaplain would provide
the best means of support no matter what was about to happen.
I
remember the first time this preparation was crucial. As part of the
internship, the chaplain interns would have overnight on-call shifts once a
week. My first on-call shift I was woken up a little after midnight to receive
call saying a chaplain was needed as a woman was actively dying. Hearing that a
woman was dying instantly took my slumber-filled brain into a moment of
adrenaline and panic; everything hit me like a frantic rush and I was instantly
overwhelmed. But I remembered the advice I was given; to prepare myself for
what was to come. And so I started reciting the Lord’s Prayer. As I changed
into my clothes, as I walked the halls of the hospital, as I took a moment to
breathe outside the patient’s room; I said the prayer we all know, and I said
it again and again. It was a calming ritual on repeat. And when I finally
entered into that patient’s room, I felt as prepared as I could ever be, and I
trusted that God would work through me to provide the support that this family needed.
And after that woman died and after I left that room and that family for good,
the rush of emotions came back and I was overwhelmed once again. But I also
gave thanks to God because while I was in that room, I was prepared to do what
I was called there to do.
And
I think God continues to prepare us every day for what comes next, especially
this day for this upcoming week. Palm Sunday is an exciting Sunday in the
church; it’s even a fun Sunday. Did you love the kids processing this morning
during our first hymn? That same joy in their faces as they waved their palms
was the same joy that was felt by the people who waved their palms when they
saw Jesus riding the colt. That joy has lived on throughout the years and is
seen almost every Palm Sunday. But it’s important to note that Palm Sunday is
also Passion Sunday. We remember that Jesus marched into Jerusalem knowing he
was headed to the cross. Our shouts of joy will soon turn into shouts of anger:
“Hosanna” into “Crucify him!” We know this feeling all too well. Our own shouts
have turned from joy to anger. And then our worry for ourselves will cause us
to abandon Christ. And then we’ll feel guilty and sad as he hangs and
eventually dies on the cross. And then we’ll be in shock as we see the
emptiness of his tomb. And then we’ll doubt the first time we see him, and
we’ll ask to see the holes pierced through his limbs and stomach. But then
we’ll celebrate the moment we realize it’s him; that he defeated death for us
and gave new life to us. All these raw, rush of emotions… and it all happens
within a week. We need to prepare ourselves. We all need to prepare ourselves.
For
those of us who march just like Jesus marched, let us prepare ourselves to
march again and to be ready for whatever is to come. For those of us who didn’t
like that people marched, let us prepare ourselves with open hearts & minds
and respond to those we disagree with, with love.
Starting
today, Palm Sunday / Passion Sunday, we prepare ourselves. We follow what Jesus
did. We’re already in a temple; we’re already here in our church. And while we
don’t have to be to prepare ourselves, but we are, so let’s take advantage of
it. Let’s prepare ourselves for this week. Our joy will soon turn to sadness,
the light will soon fade into darkness, our palms will turn into a cross. We’ll
feel it in the rest of our service today. We’ll experience it on Maundy
Thursday and Good Friday… we’ll remember it on Saturday as we wait in eagerness
for Sunday. And then we’ll wake up, we’ll come back together, and we will be
ready to celebrate in joy for Easter is indeed coming. And so we march. We will
march.
Thanks
be to God. Amen.
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Photo Credit to the Office of Mayor Pete Buttigieg
