Hosanna!
A Sermon Based on Matthew 21:1-11
Rev. Deborah Troester, April 2, 2023, STHPC
On a spring day in the year 33, a column of imperial Roman cavalry and soldiers entered the city of Jerusalem. Their armor flashed in the sun. Their red cloaks flapped in the breeze. They had a menacing air of authority. At their head, mounted on a magnificent war horse, sat the Roman governor of the provinces of Judea and Samaria, Pontius Pilate. Resplendent in the purple and gold robes of his office, he had come to Jerusalem to enforce Roman law during the Passover celebrations. During his tenure, certain of his subjects had shown themselves to be unhappy with Rome’s domination. Pilate had already put a stop to various attempts at insurrection. Having marched from his headquarters in Caesaria, he was here with his soldiers to make sure the Passover remained peaceful, despite the tens of thousands of pilgrims that would crowd the streets during this religious festival. Obedience and calm was what Rome demanded of her subjects. Pilate and his army displayed the Imperial strength that could enforce the Pax Romana on Jerusalem.
Another very different procession was approached from the opposite side of the city, from Bethphage and the Mount of Olives. A crowd of ragtag peasants waved palm branches and spread them on the road at the feet of a man riding not a war horse, but a donkey. Some even took off their robes and laid them on the ground ahead of the procession, in a gesture reserved for honoring the kings of Israel and Judah. They shouted “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord” Word spread that this was Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth. People had heard great things about him: he had fed over 5000 people with five loaves and two fish, walked on water, healed a man born blind, and even raised Lazarus from death. Maybe he was even the long-awaited Messiah. The whole city was abuzz on account of his arrival.
Of course, this is an imaginary scene, Pilate and Jesus arriving in Jerusalem at the same time on the same day. Following a suggestion from biblical scholars Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, this juxtaposition of two processions defines the central struggle of the week to come, and indeed the central struggle of the entire New Testment, if not the entire Bible: The kingdoms of this earth – represented here by the Roman empire, versus the Kingdom of Heaven. The first motivated by gaining and keeping power, by dominating their subjects; the second based on loving relationships and reconciliation – between humankind and God and between people. In the Bible, we constantly see the conflict between these two powers: Pharaoh against Moses, who freed the Hebrew slaves; the idol-worshipping kings of Israel, such as the evil King Ahab, versus the prophets who spoke out against them and called the people to repent and return to the worship of the one true God.
Once again, here in Jerusalem, during the Passover of 33 A.D. the stage is set for a struggle of cosmic proportions: the Roman Empire would bring all its weight to bear against Jesus, the Son of God, the Messiah. At the root of this struggle is the human desire for power and control. From the beginning of time, humans have pursued their own selfish desires instead of cooperating with God’s plans. We foolishly imagine we know better than God. Why should we obey the Ten Commandments or care what happens to other people, even though God has told us to love our neighbor?
Most societies in history are organized around leaders who sought political control, whether through force or persuasion. Once in power, rulers or groups try to stay in power, but, as we know, absolute power corrupts absolutely. The only king we can truly trust is Christ, God’s son, who humbled himself and took the form of a servant.
To the powerful Roman Empire, the idea of a humble king entering the city on a lowly donkey, with no sword in his hand or army at his side would have been laughable. Yet the entry of just such a king had been prophesied in Zechariah 9:9, “Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem! Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” The horse was a symbol of power and victory, but the donkey indicated a different kind of king, a different kind of victor. As the Psalmist wrote, “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God” (Psalm 20:7).
Jesus was a king who would conquer through weakness rather than through strength, a humble, gentle king who knew he had to face suffering and death before he could rise victorious over sin and the grave. As the Apostle Paul wrote to the Philippians, “Christ Jesus…, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross.” Though Christians refer to Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday as the Triumphal Entry, the triumph came later, on Easter morning, at the empty tomb.
According to Luke, Jesus was executed for three reasons: stirring up trouble – inciting the people, as some translations put it; opposing payment of taxes to Caesar; and saying that he is Christ, a King. Matthew adds that he was accused of saying he would tear down the temple and rebuild it in three days – a reference to his death and resurrection, not an actual threat. What were the religious and state authorities so afraid of? Surely a peasant from Galilee could not challenge the enormous power of the Roman empire, much less tear down the temple. The religious leaders accused him of blasphemy – claiming to be the Messiah, the Son of God. The Romans would have punished anyone claiming to take precedence over Caesar. As powerful as Rome was, it could stand no rival. Anyone claiming allegiance ahead of the empire must be eliminated.
As theologian Dan Clendenin writes, “the religious establishment hated him, and the political authorities had had enough. And so Rome deployed all the brutal means at its disposal to crush an insurgent movement—rendition, interrogation, torture, mockery, humiliation, and then a sadistic execution designed as a ‘calculated social deterrent’ to any other trouble makers who might challenge imperial authority and disturb the Pax Romana.” Jesus’ kingdom is something Rome, or any other earthly empire, would never understand. He was a king who did not seek power, but rather he humbled himself and took the form of a servant.
But that first Palm Sunday in Jerusalem, the crowds didn’t really know what kind of king Jesus was. Many probably thought Jesus had come to overthrow the Romans. Some hoped he would perform a miracle – maybe more loaves and fishes. Some were probably just there for the show. Some of those following Jesus, waving palms and shouting, “Hosannah to the Son of David,” were probably among those crying “Crucify him!” a few days later. Palm Sunday invites us to make a choice. Are we only fair-weather Christians, happy to shout “Hosannah” and worship Jesus when all is going well, but deserting or denying him when things go wrong?
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a person who made that choice. A German pastor during W.W.II, he was opposed to the Third Reich. In 1934 he helped organize a convocation of German pastors and theologians who wrote the Barmen Declaration, which stated that the church has no head but Jesus Christ and owes its allegience first and foremost to him. This declaration later becae part of our PCUSA Book of Confessions. Bonhoeffer saw that the Third Reich demanded more than just normal civic duty. It demanded a kind of hero-worship of its head, Adolf Hitler, and unquestioning loyalty and obedience, even if that meant turning a blind eye to the execution of innocent people: Jews, conscientious objectors, LGBTQ, the disabled. Bonhoeffer knew his first loyalty was to Christ. So even though he could have sought safety in political asylum in the U.S. he returned to Germany to take a stand against Hitler and all he stood for. As a result, he was imprisoned and executed, faithful to Christ to the end. Earlier, as a seminary professor he had written: “Jesus Christ lived in the midst of his enemies. At the end all his disciples deserted him. On the Cross he was utterly alone, surrounded by evildoers and mockers. For this cause he had come, to bring peace to the enemies of God. So the Christian, too, belongs not in the seclusion of a cloistered life but in the thick of foes… ‘The kingdom is to be in the midst of your enemies.’” Bonhoeffer was not a fair-weather Christian.
God’s ways are not our ways, says the prophet Isaiah (55:8). The Apostle Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 1:25, “For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.” This gentle king, who enters Jerusalem on a donkey, surrounded by peasants and children, not soldiers with arms, illustrates the truth of those teachings. Jesus came to show us that true leadership is selfless and humble, even to the point of death on a cross. He freely gave his life for the sins of the world, to identify with humanity even in death and suffering, and to show us the extent to which God would go to demonstrate his love for us. In loving gratitude, may we, too, join in the unending chorus of praise and prayer, saying, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!” Amen.
© Deborah Troester, 2023