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Palm Sunday Year C April 1, 2007Spring is sprung, nature’s traffic light has turned to green and the world says go. The flowers are blooming, the air is warm, the days longer, the sunshine bright. It is a good day for a procession, waving fronds of green and branches of palm not unlike that day long ago when Jesus entered the Holy City of Jerusalem, amidst throngs of people gathering to celebrate the High Holy Days.
Luke’s telling of this story is spare. He makes but the slightest mention of the crowds, noting that they “kept spreading their cloaks on the road.” If we were to follow Luke’s Gospel it would be called “Cloak Sunday” instead of “Palm Sunday.” For Luke there are no Hosannas ringing, no green leafy branches in the mix of his narrative. We get those images from the other gospel accounts, often binding them together into one robust glorious entry into Jerusalem.
But while Luke’s story is not particularly green and leafy, it is musical. He does tell us that there was loud shouting of praises and the verses he quotes are conspicuously like those of psalm 118.
We know historically that this psalm and others known as the Hillel Psalms or Psalms of Ascent were sung by pilgrims as they entered the Holy City at the time of the festival of Passover. The psalms composed the Jewish prayer book so many knew them by heart. Because of this it is not difficult to picture them chanting them as they walked along to take their minds off the difficult and straining walk up the hill into Jerusalem, like the work songs of old.
So it does seem likely that Jesus is in the midst of the crowds of pilgrims making their way up the hill toward Jerusalem, surrounded by loud and joyful praises to God. He is traveling with his disciples who are in all likelihood a jumble of emotions, anxious about entering this Holy City as Jesus has been telling them of his coming suffering and death, excited to be in the band of pilgrims, and curious and joyful at the interaction of the crowds with Jesus.
Some want to see it as a triumphal entry for Jesus, his finest hour, a vision of Jewish royalty entering the famed city like the kings of old, on a donkey full of prophetic import. Others see Jesus as in the right place at the right time, caught up in the characteristic emotion of the pilgrims’ entrance into Jerusalem.
Still others see in it the possibility of a kind of local parade full of political satire and making fun. The Romans were quite enamored of their showy parades and military exploits, riding into their conquered cities on mighty stallions with great ceremony and fanfare. Some see Jesus’ entrance on a humble donkey as a kind of parody of Roman arrogance, a prophetic gesture. Having experienced the political satire of a New Orleans Mardi Gras, it is not hard to imagine the scene as an opportunity to make fun of the occupying power. Larger than life political figures and policies are cut down a notch or two. Satire has always been a powerful weapon of resistance. A small show of hatred toward the foreign invader would have been a welcome and easy release for the crowds. If this is true, Jesus, the country preacher from Galilee enters this Holy City as a figure of challenge to the political and religious authorities, gaining converts along the way. He is known for his strange and compelling teaching: love for enemies, compassion for those in pain, his modeling of radical welcome and sharing of resources, his challenge to the traditional order of things, his ability to draw a crowd. All of this makes him a possible political flash-point.
This might explain why the Pharisees, the religious elites of the day would try to quiet those who would sing praises to Jesus, the mock king or victor.
"Teacher, order your disciples to stop."
They knew how important it was managing the delicate relations with Rome. How a wrong interpretation could lead to political repercussions. Even a small symbol of challenge and disrespect could get out of hand in the mist of the emotion and passions present during the High Holy Days.
Whether this was a parody of Roman victory entrances or a humble ride into certain death, Jesus responds in the wisdom tradition.
"I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out."
There are some things that simply must be said. The truth will out. If we are silent about the love and forgiveness of God in Christ, the creation itself will tell the tale. The rocks will cry out “Mercy.” The wind will whisper “Compassion.” The trees will wave the banner of “Peace.” The hills will shout, “Salvation.” The very earth itself will murmur the story of “Resurrection.”
There are many reasons right in front of me to believe that we will not leave the story to be told by creation alone. For we are the modern day disciples, following Jesus along the way. We are seekers after the Holy One, friends of God, followers of Christ. For we are mystically linked through time and song and prayer and love and the Holy Spirit to those who spread their cloaks on the road in front of Jesus and we will not be silent.
This day and every day we are among those who prepare the way for the Journey of Jesus, for we belong to him. It is through us, through our lives, that Jesus often comes anew into the world and into the hearts and lives of those who find and are found by him. As St. Francis urged, “preach the Gospel to whomever you meet…use words if necessary.”
Palm Sunday invites us to journey with Jesus into the mystery of Holy Week. We go with Jesus amidst the mystery and solemnity of a week meant to save us. For this week is not intended as a quaint reminder or as commemoration of something that happened long ago; no, it is meant to bring the saving power of Christ’s life, death and resurrection into our lives here and now, to make it available to us in the present, to make the pathway of salvation part of our very lives. To bring the kingdom of God near, into our very midst.
So as we prepare to travel this sacred week together, beginning with the joy and expectation of this day, let us take to heart the admonition of a follower of Christ from long ago, Andrew of Crete from the 8th Century.
It is ourselves that we must spread under Christ’s feet, not coats or lifeless branches or shoots of trees, matter which wastes away and delights the eyes only for a few hours. But we have clothed ourselves with Christ – “for as many as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ” – so let us spread ourselves like coats under his feet.
Luke’s telling of this story is spare. He makes but the slightest mention of the crowds, noting that they “kept spreading their cloaks on the road.” If we were to follow Luke’s Gospel it would be called “Cloak Sunday” instead of “Palm Sunday.” For Luke there are no Hosannas ringing, no green leafy branches in the mix of his narrative. We get those images from the other gospel accounts, often binding them together into one robust glorious entry into Jerusalem.
But while Luke’s story is not particularly green and leafy, it is musical. He does tell us that there was loud shouting of praises and the verses he quotes are conspicuously like those of psalm 118.
We know historically that this psalm and others known as the Hillel Psalms or Psalms of Ascent were sung by pilgrims as they entered the Holy City at the time of the festival of Passover. The psalms composed the Jewish prayer book so many knew them by heart. Because of this it is not difficult to picture them chanting them as they walked along to take their minds off the difficult and straining walk up the hill into Jerusalem, like the work songs of old.
So it does seem likely that Jesus is in the midst of the crowds of pilgrims making their way up the hill toward Jerusalem, surrounded by loud and joyful praises to God. He is traveling with his disciples who are in all likelihood a jumble of emotions, anxious about entering this Holy City as Jesus has been telling them of his coming suffering and death, excited to be in the band of pilgrims, and curious and joyful at the interaction of the crowds with Jesus.
Some want to see it as a triumphal entry for Jesus, his finest hour, a vision of Jewish royalty entering the famed city like the kings of old, on a donkey full of prophetic import. Others see Jesus as in the right place at the right time, caught up in the characteristic emotion of the pilgrims’ entrance into Jerusalem.
Still others see in it the possibility of a kind of local parade full of political satire and making fun. The Romans were quite enamored of their showy parades and military exploits, riding into their conquered cities on mighty stallions with great ceremony and fanfare. Some see Jesus’ entrance on a humble donkey as a kind of parody of Roman arrogance, a prophetic gesture. Having experienced the political satire of a New Orleans Mardi Gras, it is not hard to imagine the scene as an opportunity to make fun of the occupying power. Larger than life political figures and policies are cut down a notch or two. Satire has always been a powerful weapon of resistance. A small show of hatred toward the foreign invader would have been a welcome and easy release for the crowds. If this is true, Jesus, the country preacher from Galilee enters this Holy City as a figure of challenge to the political and religious authorities, gaining converts along the way. He is known for his strange and compelling teaching: love for enemies, compassion for those in pain, his modeling of radical welcome and sharing of resources, his challenge to the traditional order of things, his ability to draw a crowd. All of this makes him a possible political flash-point.
This might explain why the Pharisees, the religious elites of the day would try to quiet those who would sing praises to Jesus, the mock king or victor.
"Teacher, order your disciples to stop."
They knew how important it was managing the delicate relations with Rome. How a wrong interpretation could lead to political repercussions. Even a small symbol of challenge and disrespect could get out of hand in the mist of the emotion and passions present during the High Holy Days.
Whether this was a parody of Roman victory entrances or a humble ride into certain death, Jesus responds in the wisdom tradition.
"I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out."
There are some things that simply must be said. The truth will out. If we are silent about the love and forgiveness of God in Christ, the creation itself will tell the tale. The rocks will cry out “Mercy.” The wind will whisper “Compassion.” The trees will wave the banner of “Peace.” The hills will shout, “Salvation.” The very earth itself will murmur the story of “Resurrection.”
There are many reasons right in front of me to believe that we will not leave the story to be told by creation alone. For we are the modern day disciples, following Jesus along the way. We are seekers after the Holy One, friends of God, followers of Christ. For we are mystically linked through time and song and prayer and love and the Holy Spirit to those who spread their cloaks on the road in front of Jesus and we will not be silent.
This day and every day we are among those who prepare the way for the Journey of Jesus, for we belong to him. It is through us, through our lives, that Jesus often comes anew into the world and into the hearts and lives of those who find and are found by him. As St. Francis urged, “preach the Gospel to whomever you meet…use words if necessary.”
Palm Sunday invites us to journey with Jesus into the mystery of Holy Week. We go with Jesus amidst the mystery and solemnity of a week meant to save us. For this week is not intended as a quaint reminder or as commemoration of something that happened long ago; no, it is meant to bring the saving power of Christ’s life, death and resurrection into our lives here and now, to make it available to us in the present, to make the pathway of salvation part of our very lives. To bring the kingdom of God near, into our very midst.
So as we prepare to travel this sacred week together, beginning with the joy and expectation of this day, let us take to heart the admonition of a follower of Christ from long ago, Andrew of Crete from the 8th Century.
It is ourselves that we must spread under Christ’s feet, not coats or lifeless branches or shoots of trees, matter which wastes away and delights the eyes only for a few hours. But we have clothed ourselves with Christ – “for as many as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ” – so let us spread ourselves like coats under his feet.
End Document — St. Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church