Where are you headed?

Matthew 21:1-11, pew Bible pg. 23

The New Revised Standard Version Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem

Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem

(Mk 11:1–10; Lk 19:28–40; Jn 12:12–19)

21 When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, 2 saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. 3 If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” 4 This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying,

5 “Tell the daughter of Zion,

Look, your king is coming to you,

humble, and mounted on a donkey,

and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

6 The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; 7 they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. 8 A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9 The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!

Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!

Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

10 When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” 11 The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

A Triumphant Entry.

A humble king.

A celebratory parade.

A homecoming.

A perp walk.

The spark of an insurrection.

The both/and of glory and unresolved tension.

A powder keg.

A colt, a donkey.

Branches, ferns, shouts, cloaks.

Hope.

Fear.

Possibility.

A humble king.

A basin of water.

A cup and bread.

A meal, broken and blessed.

Then a garden, tears, warnings and instructions.

Whips. Blood. Bitter wine.

A crown of thorns.

A crowd now turning angry, uncertain.

Criminals, walked to their execution.

A wooden cross, nails, and a mocking placard

Here is the King of the Jews

Gamblers, Roman guards, and a grieving mother, friends.

A humble king.

The light of the world.

Dawning and yet going out.

Death, a tomb, a stone, and a waiting.

A humble king.

In my 40 years, I’m sure I’ve heard at least 40 different tellings of this story, Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem, flanked by his followers and unknown masses alike, celebrating, hopeful, pointing to a long-since forgotten promise, a chance at freedom.

And as I’ve reflected this week on what these stories, these various tellings of Jesus’ final week of ministry, I’ve wondered where I can fit in, where I can connect. Is there a place in this story for me, for you, for us?

We are separated from this moment by 2000 years of history and interpretation. There are layers and layers of meaning and symbolism stacked upon this story, ways we read it anew within our context. Leaders no longer ride into town to invade, overthrow, and conquer. Or, do they?

We stand so separate from this story to even blush at the reality of how such a charismatic crowd and their humble king can somehow flip and implode upon itself in a matter of days. This story lights up with Hosannas. But it grows dark very quickly.

We hear that the city is in turmoil, wondering, “who is this?” Jesus’ movement into the city was remarkable, yes, but there are plenty who did not know what was going on, didn’t realize that this man was anyone significant.

We step back from the particular byway or road that Jesus entered Jerusalem to consider a whole metropolis, swelling with life in preparation for celebrating the Passover feast. We think of Jews from all over Israel and Palestine, joining in the enduring pilgrimage to return to the Holy City and celebrate God’s faithfulness to them through history.

Remember, the Passover feast marks and celebrates God’s faithfulness to bring them up out of Egypt, out of captivity. On the Passover, the people would remember the sign of lamb’s blood on their door frame from their last days under Pharoah’s rule, the marker of blood that saved them from continued bondage and certain death. It is a time of remembrance, but also a time marked with anticipation of God’s ultimate coming rule, a time when the people would again be freed from bondage.

This time around, it is bondage by means of military and financial oppression from the power of the Empire. The people are hopeful for a liberator, someone who will stand up to these foreign, pagan powers, a righteous king who would usher in God’s kingdom on earth, here and now.

And so with any prophet or teacher of any renown, wouldn’t you jump at the chance to welcome them if you were hoping they would set you free?

Think about how foreign dignitaries are often welcomed when they come to visit our politicians or president. Think of the celebrations and welcome that is rolled out for our peaceful allies, the ones who maintain the order of our Empire. They are honored, signifying how our relationships and hospitality ensure that peace.

Would Jesus ensure the peace? Maybe some hoped so. But moreso, would Jesus disrupt the powerful and restore a new kind of peace, the way of God’s righteousness?

The crowds are hopeful.

They cry out, “Hosanna to the Son of David. Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest heaven.” Like angels on a cold winter night, the people long for the one who would bring good news of great joy to all people.

This is all wonderful, marvelous, how the people break into joyous songs at Jesus’ coming.

But take a more skeptical approach for a moment: What if they had considered our question for today? What if they had asked, “Where are you headed?” as the Messiah rode into town.

Where are you headed?

For one, there is hope he heads straight to the temple, to take his rightful place. We know he does visit the temple in the week to come, but not to reinforce what they are on about, but to upend it and clear the decks, making way for God’s righteous rule.

For another, maybe there’s hope that he’d head straight to the Roman guard, brandishing a sword and spear and bringing about revolution by force. They people had waited long enough for their righteous king to set them free.

For another, perhaps its the hope for something much closer, much more personal. The prophets of old told of a savior who would bind up the brokenhearted, would heal the sight of the blind, would set prisoners free. Please, they hope, come to my door, heal my child, my mother, my son long lost.

Where are you headed, humble king?

Jesus does enter the temple. Jesus does confront the Roman leadership. Jesus does offer comfort to prisoners and healing even to his enemies.

But where is he headed?

He’s headed to die.

No other way around it, this week’s story leads into the deepest of despair and loss. The humble king, the noisy crowd, the blood and wine and pain and nails and wood and tears. Loss. Death.

Jesus shows us what he is on about, even here. Even in this triumphal entry, he shows us where he is headed. He is headed to humility, headed to suffering. He is on his way to the grave.

Where are you headed?

He is headed to die.

What holds the greatest power over our world, what do we all hold in the long or short distance of our lives, anticipating, preparing for, expecting one way or another?? Death. We die.

Greater than slavery or bondage, greater than economic oppression or military occupation. If you consider where those systems are headed, you might have the inkling that there is a possibility for another way to emerge, for freedom beyond captivity, for restoration after being held down.

But where are we all headed? We are headed to die.

And how will we go there?

Will it be with loud cries of hosanna, going out with a bang, living large to the end? Or will we slowly fade, leaving it all behind, slipping softly into that good night?

Where are we headed?

For a powerful ruler, a messiah like the people promised, this cannot be the way the story ends. We just can’t have our leader die. We can’t have these systems continue to hold us down, we demand liberation, we demand freedom.

What we see in Christ is that this freedom and liberation can only come through a complete release of power, a dying to force and might, a death to what our practical strategizing minds say is the proper way to overthrow an oppressive force, whether it be political or personal.

Jesus goes the opposite direction, steering into the crash, pointed headlong into submission to the authorities and being turned over to be tortured and killed.

The only way out is through.

The only way out is through.

Entering the temple, turning over tables.

Walking with your friends, saying your goodbyes.

Breaking the bread, drinking the cup.

Being betrayed, being questioned, being shunned.

Denied by Peter, given up by Judas.

Mourned by Mary, buried by Joseph.

The only way out is through.

Through to the end

To the cross, to the pain,

to the bitter drink and mocking words.

The only way out is through.

Through suffering.

Through knowing our pain.

Through sacrifice.

Through a complete undoing of all these powers which hold and seek to decimate our souls, hide our true beauty as beloved children of God. To shut him down, the beloved Son of God.

Through it all.

Christ passes through — through the town on a donkey, through the Hosannas, through to the end…and through the end.

Friends, this week, we must pass through with Christ. Take this to the very end, walk the road with him. Where are we headed? We are headed through.

What will we take with us on this journey? Will we walk the road with Christ? Will we venture through, hoping against all hope, defying all the powers of death, to come home to the truest, purest, most glorious possibility that this all means something, that there is something beyond all that we are about to witness.

This week, may we hold fast to this journey through with Christ. May we come to die, as well, dying to our certainties, our allegiances, our treasure. Coming to Christ to be welcomed into this way of letting go, moving through, hoping, and discovering great meaning and glory in it all.

Lord, may we seek you with all our hearts. May we follow your footsteps, you our humble king, as we enter into this holiest season.

Amen.