Selecting The Lamb
Palm Sunday reflections from Matthew 21
The lesson of Palm Sunday is victory over despair and the oppressive circumstances that cause it. Not only that, but the lesson of Palm Sunday is also the enduring character of that victory, even when matters seem to take a turn for the worse.
Despair occurs when our will to live is broken. It is the loss of all hope, and the attitude of defeat. It can be caused by any number of circumstances: an illness that has afflicted your body or mind or that of someone you care about; a tragic occurrence that has taken the life of someone you love; a loss of something valuable, like a job, a cherished possession, your reputation, or an opportunity; a financial crisis; a family crisis; a setback of some type in a goal you were pursuing. But on Palm Sunday, we hear the message that a victor has come to defeat that which defeats us.
However, it is a message with a twist, and we can only see that twist when we observe what happens by that next Sunday. Ultimately we have to put Palm Sunday together with the following Sunday to get the full message of this day, and that full message is that the victory of Jesus is established—and not only that, but also that this victory endures despite all appearances to the contrary.
In Matthew 21:1–11 we see a dramatic unfolding of a hidden victory. Jesus and His disciples had just arrived at Bethphage, at the foot of the Mount of Olives, and Jesus gave instructions to two of His disciples to go into the village ahead of them, where they would find a mother donkey tied with a colt with her. They were to untie the donkey and her colt and bring them to Jesus, and if anyone said anything to them, their instructions were just to say, “The Lord needs them,” and that person would send them immediately.
Obviously there’s a lot that the Gospel Scripture does not tell us here. Who was the owner of these animals? When did the owner of these animals get together with Jesus to make these arrangements? Is this an ordinary, mundane errand, or is there something supernatural taking place here?
The selection of the disciples, 21:1-5
The obedience of the disciples, 21:6-7
“Hosanna to the Son of David,” 21:8
From the time of the Maccabees, palms had been a recognized symbol of the Jewish state. They appear both on the coins struck by the Jews during their revolutionary struggle against the Romans, and in the coinage struck by the Romans after the revolution was put down. The action of the crowd therefore testifies to deep nationalistic fervour among the pilgrims. Their words, or shouts of welcome, incorporate Scripture (13). Hosanna literally means ‘Give salvation now!’ This is a quotation from Psalm 118:25, which was part of the Hallel, the section of Psalms (113–118 in our Psalter) sung daily during the feast of tabernacles. When ‘Hosanna’ was reached during the singing of the Hallel, every male worshipper waved his ‘lulah’ (a bunch of willow and myrtle tied with palm).
The words Blessed is he who comes … (13, Ps. 118:25–26) were widely understood as a reference to the Coming One, the Messiah. This messianic meaning is explicit in the following words, Blessed is the King of Israel!, which were not part of the Psalm, but show how the crowd were understanding it. This nationalistic and messianic fervour was fuelled, as John tells us, by the raising of Lazarus, which was widely reported to the crowd coming out from the city by those travelling with Jesus (17). Jesus is hailed as the ‘King who is the conqueror of death’.161
Faced with the nationalistic politicization of the messianic title, as he had been in Galilee (cf. 6:15), Jesus again takes corrective action. In Galilee he withdrew into the hills, in Jerusalem he mounts a donkey! Unlike the synoptic writers John does not detail Jesus’ careful planning for this symbolic action (cf. Mk. 11:1–8). Its meaning, however, is crystal clear. He is the King of Israel, but not like Judas Maccabaeus who entered the city on a war-horse (Is. 31:1–3), nor like Solomon (1 Ki. 4:26). Rather he is the King of whom Zechariah had prophesied, who comes, ‘gentle and riding on a donkey’ (Zc. 9:9), who ‘will take away the chariots from Ephraim and the war-horses from Jerusalem’, and through whom ‘the battle-bow will be broken. He will proclaim peace to the nations. His rule will extend from sea to sea and from the River [i.e. the Euphrates] to the ends of the earth’ (Zc. 9:10). Jesus deliberately de-militarizes their vision and declares the nature of his messianic rule; a rule of peace, gentleness and universal tolerance. ‘Nothing further from a Zealotic view of the Messiah could be imagined.’162 The disciples did not understand Jesus’ purpose until later (16). It took his ‘glorification’, through death and resurrection (and the gift of the Spirit which flowed from it), to open their eyes.
The Pharisees look on with dismay (19). Their attempt to contain Jesus’ influence appears completely ineffective. Look how the whole world has gone after him! (19). Only the Sanhedrin’s policy of judicial execution will meet the need, but they will need to be extremely careful in implementing it.
John strikes a note here which will become more pronounced in the following chapters: Jesus is King. His kingship is of a unique order. To express it Jesus must disappoint the nationalistic aspirations of his fellow Jews. But King he is, and no confederacy of the powers of evil, whether Sanhedrin, Caiaphas, Annas, Pilate, Rome, Judas and the prince of this world, can wrest that authority from him. He moves majestically forward in procession to his throne, a throne constructed by his enemies, the throne of the cross!
Accordingly the triumphal entry is an exposition of the nature of Jesus’ kingship. In the first place, negatively, it is non-military. The imagery in Zechariah is framed as a conscious alternative to militaristic rule. True, the kingdom of Jesus will have military and political implications, for it must reflect the righteous and just character of the God who is King over all. But as a ‘gentle’ kingdom it will uphold the rights of the vulnerable and the oppressed, and afford no easy sanction to militaristic means for achieving these ends. Similarly, the King who rides into Jerusalem clothed in the mantle of Zechariah’s prophecy is possessed of a larger dream than Israelite nationalism. King of Israel! they shout, and it is true, for such he is, but he is more than that, for his reign ‘will extend from sea to sea and … to the ends of the earth’ (Zc. 9:10). As Israel’s king he will not subscribe to their narrow nationalism, for temple and city will both perish, and circumcision as the sign of entry to the people of God will give place to faith, modelled in the Old Testament (Rom. 4:1–25; Heb. 11:1–40), and embodied in all those from every nation who express personal trust in this strange King crowned upon a cross of sacrifice.
There is no sanction here either, for nationalistic visions in our own day which limit global obligations, or which glorify our national heritage to the exclusion of the nations beyond our borders, of whatever colour, race or creed for whom as truly the King has come, died and risen.
Positively, this paragraph also proclaims Jesus as the King of peace, whose coming drives out fear (cf. Do not be afraid, 15) and whose ways are ways of mercy, gentleness and forgiveness. To establish his kingdom and realize these ideals, however, will be costly. It will mean riding on ‘in lowly pomp … to die’.163 For these ideals are no merely human possibility. Jesus’ mission is nothing less than the supernatural inbreaking of God in the death and rising of the Son and the outpouring of the Spirit. The ideals of the kingdom can be realized only where the King is enthroned. The righteousness, peace and joy of the kingdom are possible only ‘in the Holy Spirit’ (Rom. 14:17).