Part of the Crowd

Part of the Crowd

It’s hard to do justice to the large and deeply important biblical texts we’ve read today. I can only try to focus our attention in one or two places and hope that it helps us meaningfully process all of the important events recounted today, on Palm Sunday. I want to do that, oddly enough, by looking at one of the least obvious characters in the readings we heard at the beginning of the service and during the Gospel. The character from both stories I want to focus on is the crowd.

On Palm Sunday, we live out part of what it must have been like to be part of the crowd in Jerusalem as Jesus was entering. There are sociologists and psychologists who are experts on crowd behavior. And many of us have lived this out. If you’ve ever gone to a football game or a rock concert, there’s something different about being there in person, bumping elbows with your fellow man who is as excited to be there in the presence of greatness as you are. It makes the whole thing grander than it could ever be watching it on TV or Youtube. After hearing about Jesus’ miracles, and having heard his teaching, perhaps even first hand, we, the crowd, see him, the Son of David, entering the City of David.

I’ve been in Jerusalem at sunrise, thanks to you, seeing the light hit the buildings and watching the first signs of life emerge. But that was nothing compared to watching Jerusalem become what it was meant to be, with the Son of David entering David’s City to a cheering crowd, to cast your ballot for this man who had the lineage, the authority in teaching, and the miracles of God Almighty attesting to God’s power and presence in and with him. To see him finally enter that city was an unbelievably hopeful moment. If any man is the messiah, this man is. If any man brings the very words of God, this man does. If any man is powerful enough to throw off all the oppressors and establish God’s kingdom on earth, it’s this man.

Hosanna

It’s the gravity of this moment that moves the crowd to say the word Hosanna as Jesus enters. We said it this morning and we see it in Mark’s and John’s accounts of this event. This word Hosanna is not religious gibberish, like the opposite of a swear word. It means “Please save!” It is something you say to someone to show them that you believe they are able to save you. You don’t ask someone to save you unless you think they can, just like someone who needs money doesn’t ask a homeless person. So when we, the crowd, say “Hosanna,” we are acknowledging that Jesus can save us, and we are asking him to do so.

The crowd is its own character in the Gospel. They were the ordinary people who weren’t religious or political leadership, the bureaucrats or the lawyers. Jesus ministered to the crowd as a whole as well as individuals. The crowd seems to be unpolluted by the posturing of the religious and political leaders in Jerusalem. But even the crowd gets it wrong from time to time.

And that’s not just a first century problem. It’s still a twenty-first century problem. Groupthink can turn into an avalanche, wiping out constructive dialog and even truth itself. It shouts down dissent and it can even turn violent. We can see this in our fractured political system. We can see it around the world, especially when financial systems fail as they did in Greece and in Venezuela. The crowd becomes a mob and mobs can hurt people. They can kill people, on accident, or worse.

And that violence is not just a twenty-first century problem, it’s a first century problem too.

Crucify Him

Part of the angst of Palm Sunday is that after the crowd shouts “Hosanna,” it shouts “Crucify him!” If you really read your part during the Liturgy of the Palms at the beginning of the service and during the Gospel narrative today, chances are you are either still recovering from being torn apart by the juxtaposition of “Hosanna” and “Crucify him,” or you’re emotionally numbed by it, in some kind of theological post-traumatic stress. I have never had a crowd yell “Hosanna” at me; I have no idea what that would be like. But I can’t imagine what it feels like to have an angry crowd demand my crucifixion. I’d probably be afraid for my life. Perhaps Jesus was as well, but he wouldn’t have been unreasonable also to be disappointed in the crowd or to pity them when they call for his crucifixion, especially after the greeting he received in his triumphal entry.

But what gets me is that this crowd who yelled “O save us, (Hosanna)” when Jesus entered Jerusalem only to later shout “Crucify Him, crucify him,” didn’t know that both of these pleas meet in the same moment. They were asking for the same thing. When they shouted “Hosanna,” (O save us), they didn’t know they were also shouting, “Crucify Him.” Because Jesus would only save them truly with his death. And when they shouted, “Crucify Him,” they didn’t know they were restating their “Hosanna.” The irony is punishingly poignant. They shouted, “Hosanna,” in support, but didn’t know they were demanding Jesus’ death. They shouted, “Crucify him,” in disgust, but didn’t know that their demand would fulfill their earlier shout for salvation. “O save us,” and, “Crucify him,” are opposite sentiments, but, God, in his compassion, granted them both when Jesus was killed on the cross. In neither request did they know what they were asking for. When they asked for salvation (Hosanna!) it could only be granted in crucifixion (Crucify him!) When they demanded his crucifixion (Crucify him!) it would bring salvation (Hosanna). The cry, “Hosanna!” and the cry, “Crucify him!” have opposite motives but they lead to the same thing: a savior who is crucified. The crowd didn’t know it either time, but in these two very different moments, they effectively asked for a crucified savior.

The answer to these two prayers, took place at one moment. The most important moment in human history. When God’s vengeance for sin was carried out, not on us, but on Jesus. “Hosanna, crucify him” is also the fractured prayer of our hearts unconsciously offered when we find ourselves lost in sin. We want to be saved, but there’s only one way for that to happen, through the death of Jesus. Our sin cries out for salvation and it cries out for Jesus’ crucifixion.

We really are that crowd, not knowing what we do, wanting to honor God one moment, and then requiring his death the next. What we want is the right thing sometimes, and other times, we get it horribly wrong. But God answers our prayer for deliverance, our need of Jesus’ sacrifice. The moment we were saved and the moment he was crucified was the same moment. And we relive that moment of our deliverance, of the crucified savior, every Sunday when we take and eat the bread and the wine in remembrance of Christ’s death until he comes again.

By this we bring to mind, and to heart, the fact that our need of salvation has been accomplished in the crucifixion of Jesus. We walk through the moment of our salvation in bread and wine, taking that moment of salvation on to our tongue. And it becomes part of us. Our deliverance goes with us in our bodies, hearts, and minds, by faith, so we, this crowd that’s prone to forget and rebel, can take the moment of our forgiveness with us when we face our cruel selves, the cruel devil, and a cruel world. And in the midst of that cruelty, we can find comfort and peace in the work of Jesus on the cross. And one day when our deliverance from this corrupt world reaches its fulfillment at the end of all things, that deliverance won’t be foreign to us, because we will have walked in it for our entire Christian lives. So remember Jesus in your heart and mind today, embrace his sacrifice on the cross for your sins, and walk in confidence that God has answered the prayer of your heart, that in your need of deliverance from sin, he accomplished that deliverance and it goes out with you into the world, wherever you may go, and whatever you may face, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.