Sermon for Palm/Passion Sunday, Year A, "Verse Twelve," Matthew 21:1-11

Sermon 4/2/23

Matthew 21:1-11

Verse Twelve

I don’t usually give a message on Palm/Passion Sunday. My preaching professor in seminary, the late Dr. Charles Rice, always said that the combined events of celebrating the Triumphant Entry of Jesus into Jerusalem with palms and Hosannas and of remembering the Passion of Jesus Christ by concluding with the telling of Jesus’ arrest, trial, and crucifixion was enough. The text preaches itself, he said. We don’t need to add more words. Over the years, I’ve found his words to ring true, and because of the vividness of the readings, and the juxtaposition of the crowds yelling, “Hosanna, God save us!” at the start of the worship service and then yelling, “Crucify, Crucify him!” by the end, I’ve found Palm/Passion Sunday to be one of the most meaningful worship services of the year. And so I’m not really giving a lengthy sermon today either, I promise! Just a little contextualizing, I think. The events of Palm Sunday and of the Passion of Jesus are as compelling as ever, but I want to help focus our attention just a bit. 

Have any of you seen the TV show How I Met Your Mother? Really, the content of the show doesn’t matter - but I wanted to talk about a technique they use in one episode. In one episode, it begins with the whole gang at a restaurant, out to brunch, pausing for a photo that looks perfect - everyone is dressed up, everyone is smiling, and it seems to capture a happy moment. But then in the rest of the episode, we find out everything that has led up to that moment of the photo, and everything that happens afterwards, and let’s just say, it isn’t all so happy and lovely as the freeze-frame photo will look. 

I’ve had that episode in my mind - that “freeze frame” image in my mind as I’ve read Matthew’s account of Palm Sunday. Imagine that the photo, the freeze frame of Palm Sunday is Jesus, riding into Jerusalem, crowds spreading their cloaks on the ground, or spreading branches out before him, a sign of honor, or shouting the greeting that is also a plea: Hosanna - God save us - blessed is the one who comes in God’s name - familiar lines of scripture that also signified that this crowd at least saw Jesus as a king, a savior, a messiah - an anointed one who would fix things, maybe work for the overthrow of Rome. It makes a vibrant, exciting image, and it has always left me feeling like I wanted to be part of that parade, part of that crowd, welcoming Jesus, crying, “Hosanna!” 

But if we “zoom out” on the freeze frame photo of Palm Sunday, we find a more complicated story. The beginning several verses of our text from Matthew show Jesus and the disciples finalizing details for entering Jerusalem. Matthew’s account seems to involve a complicated arrangement of both a colt and a donkey, and Jesus inexplicably riding on both, because Matthew, God bless him, didn’t really understand the repetitive nature of Hebrew poetry, the scripture he is trying so hard to show Jesus fulfilling. But however he gets there, eventually Jesus is on a donkey - or two - headed into Jerusalem. It isn’t in Jerusalem, though, that the crowds are cheering him. It’s on the road heading into the city that Jesus and the disciples are accompanied by a crowd. Who are these people? We don’t really know. Were they Jesus followers already? Had they been listening to his teaching and preaching? Had they been healed by Jesus? Where are they coming from? Did some come from Jerusalem to meet and escort him in, or are these all out-of-towners? Whoever they are, it is this crowd who seems excited about Jesus, anxious for his saving power to be at work in their lives, even if we might wonder if they had the same idea as Jesus about what it meant to be saved. 

But once Jesus gets into Jerusalem, the joyous parade changes in tone. In verse 10 we read that “the whole city was in turmoil, asking, ‘Who is this?’” The word “turmoil” there has some interesting definitions. Turmoil means  shaken to and fro like a poised spear, shaken to the foundation. It is a word that describes earthquakes. It is concussion-causing agitation or disturbance. It’s a word used with accusation, spite, extortion, and blackmail. (1) The Jerusalem crowd is in turmoil - shaken to their core - when Jesus comes into town. They know him to be a prophet, and they don’t seem excited to greet him. When the parade hits Jerusalem, everything is different. 

That’s where our text for today ends. But of course, that’s not where the story ends. Next comes verse 12. The Jerusalem crowds are shaken, and they should be, because in verse 12, a newly-arrived-to-town Jesus heads straight to the temple, and drives out all of those who are buying and selling in the temple, implying that those partaking in the long-established temple are nothing better than robbers in a house of prayer. Some - those with little standing in society - come to Jesus - the blind and lame come for healing, and children in the temple are still honoring Jesus with Hosannas. But those who “counted” in temple life - the chief priests and scribes - are less excited. Jesus “cleansing the temple”  - as these events are called - happens on Palm Sunday too. It’s not part of the perfect parade picture - but it’s still the same day. 

Palm Sunday sets up the contrasts - between who is with Jesus on the road, and who encounters Jesus in the city; between those on the margins of society who embrace Jesus, and those in the center of things who feel like they’ve been through an earthquake when they’re in his presence; between those who have little access to power structures, and those who are wielding great power at the expense of others. And Palm Sunday starts this sequence of events that just increases in intensity. After the cleansing of the temple, Jesus spends the next day teaching in parables and continuing to fight with the religious leaders. These parables are “lighter” parables about seed and forgiveness and the lost and found. They’re about preparedness, judgment, and people who miss Jesus’s message, miss what God is trying to say. Palm Sunday is the day that the pressure cooker of Holy Week starts to increase the temperature. Jesus is confrontational with everyone, even a fig tree that isn’t bearing fruit! Always confronting. 

This Palm Sunday, this Holy Week, can we look beyond the freeze frame photo of the Palm parade? As always, our best strategy is to stick as close to Jesus as possible - on the margins, instead of at the center, in the places where power is shared insead of gathered up. Stick close to Jesus. In Holy Week, from Verse Twelve on, we see that sticking with Jesus is no easy task. Judas, Peter, the rest of the twelve, the religious leaders, others who are condemned by the same system of oppression that condemns Jesus - so many find it difficult to continue following Jesus when the palms stop waving. We might find it difficult too. And sometimes Jesus is confronting us - calling us out, calling us to accountability, calling us to repentance. Even so - stick close. Search the stories for those who stay with Jesus. Search for those who find their way back again. Search out the ways God keeps calling us. After the parade, then what? We’ve shouted our hosannas. Where will Jesus us find us next? 

Amen.  

1. Henry George Liddell. Robert Scott. A Greek-English Lexicon. revised and augmented throughout by. Sir Henry Stuart Jones. with the assistance of. Roderick McKenzie. Oxford. Clarendon Press. 1940.,

http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/morph?l=e%29sei%2Fsqh&la=greek&can=e%29sei%2Fsqh0&prior=*)ieroso/luma&d=Perseus:text:1999.01.0155:book=Matthew:chapter=21:verse=10&i=1#lexicon

Sermon for Palm/Passion Sunday, "The Stones Cry Out," Luke 19:29-40

Sermon 4/5/20

Luke 19:29-40

The Stones Cry Out

I don’t usually give a message on Palm/Passion Sunday. My preaching professor in seminary, the late Dr. Charles Rice, always said that the combined events of celebrating the Triumphant Entry of Jesus into Jerusalem with palms and Hosannas and of remembering the Passion of Jesus Christ by concluding with the telling of Jesus’ arrest, trial, and crucifixion was enough. The text preaches itself, he said. We don’t need to add more words.

Over the years, I’ve found his words to ring true, and because of the vividness of the readings, and the juxtaposition of the crowds yelling, “Hosanna, God save us!” at the start of the worship service and then yelling, “Crucify, Crucify him!” by the end, I’ve found Palm/Passion Sunday to be one of the most meaningful worship services of the year. And so I’m not really giving a sermon today either, I promise! But these days are unique, and call for just a little contextualizing, I think. The events of Palm Sunday and of the Passion of Jesus are as compelling as ever - they still stand on their own. But I want to help focus our attention. 

In the lectionary calendar, the three-year schedule of scripture readings for the church, this year would have us focusing on Matthew’s account of what we call the Triumphant Entry of Jesus to Jerusalem. All the gospel of accounts of this event are similar, but unique. Donna Peck pointed out at our online BIble Study, for example, that Luke’s account never uses the word “Hosanna,” which is certainly something we associate with Palm Sunday. “Hosanna” means “God, save us!” and we could certainly resonate with such a plea today. In fact, Luke doesn’t even mention people waving or laying down branches. Instead, he talks about folks spreading cloaks on the road. But I chose for us to read Luke’s account particularly because of the conversation between Jesus and the Pharisees at the end of the text. 

In Luke’s account, as Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a colt, a young donkey, a crowd starts to gather. Jesus knows he’s heading toward his painful death on a cross, but the people don’t know that, and at this point, the crowds are excited to see him. It turns into an impromptu parade of sorts. They throw down their cloaks for him to ride over, treating Jesus as they’d treat royalty. And they start to praise God. Luke tells us they say, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” Again, the first part of their chant is something meant for a king, words from the Psalms meant for a festival day. The crowds are greeting Jesus like a king, but Jesus arrives on a donkey, not a war horse. (1) The second part of their greeting to Jesus echoes the words from Luke’s gospel that the angels sing when Jesus is born: “Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” Luke reminded us when Jesus was born that Jesus is no earthly king, born in a palace surrounded by luxury. Jesus’ authority, his reign, is one of true peace. 

The Pharisees are upset by this demonstration. They say to Jesus, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” We don’t know exactly why they want to settle the crowds. We suspect they’re jealous of Jesus’ popularity, threatened by his clear authority that seems to overlook their wisdom and leadership. But I think they’re also afraid: Jesus being greeted as he enters Jerusalem like some sort of king, even if Jesus wasn’t asking to be so treated - well, that would draw a lot of unwanted attention on the people - both from the Jewish King Herod, seen as a puppet of Rome, and from the Roman Governor Pontius Pilate. Jerusalem was occupied by the Roman Empire, and such an event like this was dangerous. No one wanted the Roman authorities to get more involved in the lives of the Jewish people than they already were. 

But Jesus responds to Pharisees, “I tell you, if these people were silent, the stones would shout out!” Those words are words found in the writing of the prophet Habakkuk. Habakkuk was writing during a time of great distress in Israel’s history. The Assyrians were destroying city after city, and the people lived in fear. Habakkuk cries out to God, “How long? How long will we cry for help, God, and you won’t listen?” Habakkuk waits for God’s answer. 

God does answer, and God makes it clear that every injustice the people have suffered at the hands of enemies - God has seen. God promises that their deliverance is coming. They have to wait, but deliverance is coming, and God sees all that is happening. It is God who says to Habakkuk, “The very stones will cry out from the wall, and the plaster will respond from the woodwork.” God says that even these inanimate objects are crying out at the injustice and pain and hardship that has been visited on God’s people. And God hears, and responds. (2) 

So when Jesus uses these words from Habakkuk, he’s telling the Pharisees that in the face of injustice and oppression, like the Jews of Jesus days were experiencing from the Roman Empire, nothing can stop people from crying out from deliverance. And if the people’s voices were somehow stopped, then even the rocks would take up the cry instead. And when the people cry out, when the rocks cry out for deliverance, for help, when they’re crying out, “God save us!” whether it is with Hosannas and palm branches or with cloaks laid on the ground and stones crying out instead of human voices, God hears. God listens. And God promises deliverance will come. 

Friends, in these days when we can’t gather together for worship like we so long to do, we feel deep sadness that we’re not together, waving our palm branches. I miss the children parading in the sanctuary. I miss hearing your voices singing with ours. I miss you. But in these days when we cry out, “How long, O Lord?” know that God hears. God listens. Nothing will stop God’s work of deliverance, of justice, of peace from unfolding. Nothing stops our cries from ringing in God’s ears. Even when our voices weary, the stones will cry out. And even if the church building is empty, God’s heart is full of God’s people. And Jesus, and his reign of true peace, will not be thwarted. Nothing can get in the way of God’s saving, life-changing, world-changing love. 

In just a little bit, we’ll hear again the Passion story. We’ll hear of Jesus’ arrest, and trial, and crucifixion. And for a moment, it will seem like death has won. Like good loses in the end. Like Jesus has been silenced. But we know that’s not the end of the story. I tell you, even the stones are shouting out. And God is listening. Amen.  

1. Haslam, Chris, “Comments,” Revised Common Lectionary Commentary, http://montreal.anglican.org/comments/archive/cpalmm.shtml. 

2. Claassens, Juliana, “Commentary on Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:2-4; 3:17-19,” The Working Preacher, https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2238. 

Sermon for Palm/Passion Sunday, "Palms and Crosses"

Sermon 3/28/10, Luke 19:28-40, Luke 22:14-23:56

Palm/Passion Sunday Meditation

Today we celebrate Palm/Passion Sunday. Passion Sunday used to be celebrated as its own Sunday during the fifth week of Lent, before Palm Sunday. But when the common lectionary was developed, the common set of texts we use each week, Palm Sunday and Passion Sunday were joined together in one Sunday, for a few reasons. First, a practical reason: these days, less and less people celebrate the full Holy Week - people might attend on the Sundays: Palm Sunday, and then Easter. However, missing Holy Week - Maundy Thursday and Good Friday - means missing the middle and very important part of the story - the trial and crucifixion. How can you have Jesus' resurrection without his death? If you go straight from Palm Sunday to Easter, from triumph to triumph, you miss a lot of the reason for the celebration next Sunday. Celebrating Palm/Passion Sunday together means you get the whole story.

But I think there's a deeper reason to have these two themes share the same Sunday morning space. They are poignant enough alone, full of meaning. But together, with their stark contrasts, these texts hit even harder. Palm/Passion Sunday together is a day of irony, of juxtaposition, of bringing two things together that don’t seem like they should go together. Irony is when there is a contradiction between an action or expression, and the context in which the action or expression occurs. The two passages, then, that we read today, are full of irony. Contradictions. We find disciples who were following Jesus’ command, coming into Jerusalem with him, and those same disciples denying and betraying him as soon as things got too difficult. We find crowds with Jesus in both passages, crowds shouting. First, “Hosanna,” but then, “crucify him!” We find powerful leaders – Pharisees and High Priests – seemingly scared of Jesus and the power this man from Nazareth seems to have – and yet they were the ones with the power to arrest Jesus and put him on trial. We find Jesus called a king – first a king who is blessed because he comes in God’s name, and then a king of the Jews, those very words serving as his death sentence. We find Jesus, condemned and killed as a criminal offering forgiveness from the death chamber, the cross. We find speakers of truth, people strangely aware of who Jesus really was, in a thief on another cross, and in a centurion, a Roman participating in the crucifixion. Contradictions. Irony.

We’ve been living with these contradictions and juxtapositions throughout Lent. Why do you labor for that which does not satisfy? Isaiah wonders. We seek abundance, and we seek to be filled, but we continually try to fill ourselves with things that have proven again and again to leave us empty. Why? We want to be disciples but we’re unwilling to actually follow where Jesus leads, always sure we’re heading the right direction already on our own. We’ll spend our heart and soul treasuring things that wear out, but we count the cost the God asks – those same hearts and souls – as too high, even for the real life God offers. We deeply need to be forgiven for our sins, yet we hold on to the sins of others so tightly, resenting God’s free love, as if it might run out. We are full of contradictions.  

I’ve always thought that Jesus got himself crucified because he refused to be the kind of Messiah the people expected him to be. They wanted a revolutionary, didn’t they? Someone who would come in and free the Jews from Roman occupation. Someone who could be a grand king in the line of David, their favorite king in their history. I thought that they just didn’t get what kind of Messiah Jesus was saying he was. I thought it was a case of mistaken identity. Jesus is not who they, or who we, thought he was. But if this were the case – if they wanted Jesus to be a certain kind of Messiah – if they were trying to force his hand – wouldn’t they realize sooner than his crucifixion that Jesus was not responding in the way they had hoped? If Jesus wasn’t the Messiah they were looking for, couldn’t they just ignore him? Couldn’t they just let him fade out of focus? Why did they act with such violence? Why was there no voice – no voice – standing up as an advocate for Jesus – no one who tried to save him from this death?

The more I think about it, the more I mull over the events of Jesus’ life in my mind, the more convinced I become that the reason we go so quickly from the crowds welcoming Jesus to the crowds yelling for his death is because they knew, and we know, exactly who Jesus is. For once, it seems everyone in the story is united in their actions towards Jesus. All of them, all of them, are united in their abandonment and rejection of Jesus. It is not just the Jews who act against him, but also the Romans. Not just the religious leaders, but also the common ‘regular’ people. Not just Judas, who we can readily write off as corrupted and evil, but also Peter, the faithful disciple, and the others, who never even get mentioned during all of Jesus’ trial, beatings, and crucifixion. Not one who Jesus healed, not one who Jesus forgave, not one who Jesus broke bread with speaks for him, acts on his behalf, save perhaps one of the criminals crucified alongside him, until it is too late.

I often wish I could have lived in Jesus’ day – sat on the mountain to hear him preach, traveled with him as he visited places where others would not go, helped him share God’s love. I like to think that surely, surely I would not be part of the crowds yelling for his death. But what reason do we have to think otherwise? Honestly, I think we’d like to get rid of Jesus, even still, even today. Not because he’s not who we want him to be. But because we’re afraid we know exactly who he is.

This Jesus we crucify is one who just won’t let us be. And that is the most logical reason for us, with those we read about, to want to put Jesus to death. After all, Jesus is only a threat, a real threat, if he is who he claims to be – the Messiah, the one anointed to bring good news, preach repentance, and announce that God’s kingdom is already here on earth, right now. If Jesus is wrong, or lying, or crazy – he’s not a threat. It is because we believe him that he frightens us, and we seek to get his voice out of our heads and hearts any way we can.

If Jesus is the Messiah, then we really are supposed to love our enemies, count as our neighbors those who we think little of. If Jesus is the Messiah, then we really are called to give up the material things that we call treasures, and trade them for treasures of a different kind. If Jesus is the Messiah, then we really are supposed to go where God calls us, follow where God leads, no matter how inconvenient it is, how difficult it is, how painful it is. If Jesus really is the Messiah, then we’ve got to make changes to our lives, right now.

Theologian Dorothy Sayers writes, "I know that I can stand in here and sing praises to Jesus one day, and walk by on the other side of the road as he lies in a gutter the next. I know that I can be lost in wonder and praise at the gracious mercy of God one day, and then turn around and make the most callous judgment of someone the next day, just writing them off, rejecting them entirely without showing any sign that the grace I have been shown has begun to rub off on me. I know that some days I can sing in here "Brother, sister let me serve you, let me be as Christ to you," and then walk out and treat you as though I was born to rule and you're lucky to have me in your company." If Jesus is the Messiah, then we have to face all the contradictions we’ve built up in our lives.

So wouldn’t it be easier, much easier, to get rid of Jesus? Wouldn’t be easier just to live as we’re living, as basically good people, without worrying about all those changes that will just make people think we’re behaving strangely anyway? Wouldn’t be easier to turn Jesus in to the authorities, and let them take care of it? Wouldn’t it be easier to pretend that we never knew Jesus? Wouldn’t it be easier to fade out of the story? Wouldn’t be easier to blend in with the crowd?

            “Pilate, wanting to release Jesus, addressed them again; but they kept shouting, “Crucify, crucify him!”

            Let us pray:  …

Reflections on Palm/Passion Sunday

I didn't preach on Palm/Passion Sunday this year, so I thought instead of posting my sermon, I would highlight some of the resources I used in worship.

Lately, I've been loving the liturgies written by Rev. Thom M. Shuman, here at Lectionary Liturgies. We used his Great Thanksgiving this Sunday for communion. I can write liturgies myself, but it is not one of my particular strengths. However, cultivating a good list of liturgists who really write in a way that moves me is one of my strengths.

I also used this responsive litany, written by Deb at Palabras de Deb. I've actually had that litany bookmarked since last year when she posted it, and have been waiting to have the chance to use it this year! I also used the monlogues she mentions, found here and here. They are written from the point of view of a person in the crowd on Palm Sunday, and then later in Holy Week. We have a wonderful actor/singer, Richard Koons, in our congregation who performed them for us. I used these, along with a reading of the passion story, to constitute the message, rather than a regular sermon, and the service was quite full.

If you are my "facebook friend," you also know I had a small panic thinking we had forgotten to order Palms. (Turns out, I just didn't know where they were.) Everyone chimed in with great ideas to solve the problem - including using 'regular' branches, or making construction paper palms, or blaming the economy (hee hee!), but luckily, it didn't come to that!

I hope, for those of you spending the week planning and prepping for many worship services, that you find time this week to experience the events for yourself, and not be undone by panic and stress!