Palm Sunday
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Readings: Isaiah 50: 4-90a; Philippians 2: 5-11; Matthew 21: 1-11
“A week is a long time in politics” – as someone once remarked. Harold Wilson? Today we begin what some Christians call ‘The Great Week.’ It has been observed from as early as the third century, with a development in the fourth century of events at the different locations of the places most directly associated with Jesus’ Passion. The Emperor Helen of Constantine made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem in 326, supposedly discovering the true Cross, and building a basilica on the Mount of Olives. So began pilgrimages to the Holy Land.
The opposition to Jesus among the Jewish authorities has been steadily growing, and now it reaches its climax after three years of his ministry. The pace quickens, and we find ourselves caught up in the drama. Jesus would have realised that a critical moment was approaching, and, of course, he had predicted that his end would come in Jerusalem.
Jesus must have chosen to enter the city riding on a donkey, with a colt alongside, so to fulfil a prophecy from Zechariah chapter 9 about the coming ruler of God’s people. Indeed, Matthew specifically tells us so. Of the four gospel-writers, Matthew is the one who delves into the Old Testament most frequently. And Jesus knew his Hebrew scriptures well enough to know that what he was doing would be interpreted as the arrival of the Messiah – the expected King.
But as for the demonstration of support that was shown by the crowd, that may have been a spontaneous outburst of enthusiasm. In her book The Man born to be King, Dorothy L. Sayers writes that Jesus never sought publicity and would not have organised the demo itself. But he accepted the adulation of the crowd, because he knew the pleasure it would give to people. Sometimes, protests have to happen even if there isn’t much chance of real change being brought about – witness the demonstrations in Iran in January. But in Jesus’ case, the superficial enthusiasm of the crowd was soon replaced by a more sinister mob move – a call to ‘Crucify him.’
So here on Palm Sunday is the start of the final conflict. From obscurity, Jesus becomes the most widely revered figure in human history. He rewrote the religious politics of the day, and so divided his people in the process. Maybe as a sign of the crowd’s fickleness – of our fickleness, we wave our fresh moist palm crosses that will soon dry out and fade. But we are caught up in the action. Bishop Tom Wright speaks of a dozen brilliant human cameos in the unfolding story: Jesus and Judas; Peter; Caiaphas; Pilate (and his wife); Barabbas; Simon of Cyrene; the bandits; the mockers; the centurion; the women; Joseph of Arimathaea – each one deserving our attention. The whole drama, he says, swirls to and fro with friendship betrayed, justice denied, empire appeased, faith insulted, and innocence abused.
As we piece together the individual stories we get a vivid account of the drama of the week that has shaped our very existence and identity as Christians. The impact of Jesus’ death fuses together all the characters and their stories into something much bigger. We make connections with the world today, where there is still deception, denial and betrayal, as well as acts of great self-sacrifice and outgoing love.
So we’re not just commemorating events of 2,000 years ago. We’re made to reflect on how little human nature has changed, and how much we still need the saving grace of Jesus, whose offering of his life was made as much for us and for our failings as for those of the people of the time – and all in between.
Our eyes are fixed on Jesus this week, and on his true self-giving character. I sometimes start watching a new tv drama these days, and realise after about twenty minutes that there isn’t a single character in it I like or admire, and a very bleak world is sometimes portrayed. The writer of Hebrews calls Jesus ‘the author and perfecter of our faith, who, for the joy that was set before him endured the Cross, despising its shame.’ The words of the servant of the Lord, as found in our Isaiah reading this morning, could readily be Jesus looking back, except for the fact that they were written several hundred years before his time. “I gave my back to those who struck me, and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard; I did not hide my face from insult and spitting. The Lord God helps me, therefore I have not been disgraced.”
St. Paul ponders on Jesus’ suffering, too, in those famous words from Philippians. In fact, Paul may not have written them himself; they may already have been in circulation as a kind of hymn in early Christian congregations. But Paul uses the passage to speak to a divided church, giving them the example of Jesus, who ‘emptied himself’. We admire people who lay aside ambition or personal preference for another person or a greater good, something the world doesn’t easily understand, except perhaps on Remembrance Sunday. “Let this mind be in you,’ writes Paul, “that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, humbled himself, and became obedient to the point of death.”
As we reflect on Jesus’ true humility, we may be tempted to bewail our own failings. But this week we’re called to follow Jesus on his journey of tragedy and triumph. As D.W. Cleverly-Ford wrote, “We see a king who does not elevate himself, but who stoops to the lowest of the low. We do not see a Christ who has come to lift us out of our sorrows; he saves us through our sorrows. We do not sing our Hosannas to the one who got away from it all, but to one who went through it all himself. Isn’t this why we believe and put our trust in the living God? May we live through Holy Week with this precious gospel story before our eyes, and with wonder in our hearts.