Palm Sunday 2022 - Stones Cry Out

The New Revised Standard Version Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem

Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem

(Mt 21:1–11; Mk 11:1–11; Jn 12:12–19)

28 After he had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem.

29 When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, 30 saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. 31 If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’ ” 32 So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. 33 As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” 34 They said, “The Lord needs it.” 35 Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. 36 As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. 37 As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, 38 saying,

“Blessed is the king

who comes in the name of the Lord!

Peace in heaven,

and glory in the highest heaven!”

39 Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” 40 He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”

This past week, Stacy and Asher and some friends and I took vacation to the desert of Nevada. This barren, wide open land is filled with all kinds of wildlife and foliage that are so unfamiliar to me as a Cascadian Pacific Northwesterner. I was surprise at the beauty of the desert — craggy, sharp mountains, interspersed with dry canyons, colored from brown to pink to rich orange to purple. The stones and hillsides and valleys of this land speak — they sing rainbow shaded songs of fire and tell stories of long dry riverbeds that once babbled with the laughter of water.

I’ve never been to the Holy Land. But the desert reminded me of this story, where Jesus looks across from the Mount of Olives at the rising hill of Jerusalem. This story where the Christ enters into the great city to the welcome of palm branches and garments covering the dusty streets. He hides a donkey, a burro, a colt, like the wanderer traveling through the desert on a horse with no name.

And when Jesus reaches the city, we hear the cries of the people — Hosanna! Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!

We call this piece of Scripture the Triumphal Entry. Out of the wilderness, out of the desert, the Christ rides in to take his rightful place as King of the Jews, the promised Messiah of Israel.

And the people cry out — Hosanna!

Again, they cry out — Hosanna!

Even dry, thirsty, barren lives, the poor, the oppressed, the widow and the orphan — the lowest of the low — they cry out Hosanna!

We too, are invited to cry out — Hosanna! Say it with me again, Hosanna!

Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!

We who have wandered through the desert of this season of Lent, the desert of this unceasing disruption of a global pandemic, the desert of our own loneliness and hunger and longing — out of this desert, we cry — Hosanna!

What is this?

So what is all of this? Is it a properly planned and ordered parade? Is Jesus the grand marshal? Is he flanked by powerful, armored men on stallions, protecting him as an entourage? Have the police shut down the streets in a 5 block perimeter, are there snipers perched in the nearby buildings to isolate and neutralize any possible threats to Jesus’ safety?

We have some sense of imagination for what a military parade looks like. We’ve seen it when troops come home from war. Or when a dignitary is welcomed to the capital. We know the pomp and circumstance.

We might even think about how we parade our sports teams through the streets when they win the big game. I stood on 3rd Avenue in downtown Seattle on the day the Seattle Seahawks paraded through the city following their Super Bowl win in 2014. Go Hawks was the rally cry!

Or consider the processionals of graduates from high schools and colleges that we will witness in the next few months to come. We celebrate these achievements by parading the students in to the auditorium, passing the stage, receiving their blessing in the form of a diploma or degree, and then cheering them on as they step forward into a new chapter of life.

Is that what this Palm Sunday processional is all about?

Not quite.

A Roman general or even the Emperor would have expected such pomp and recognition as he rode into the city. Expected is a key word — the people would be expected to say things like “Blessed is he” and “Peace on earth” — these are words of honor and allegiance. They enforce the authority and power of the one being honored.

Is that was this is?

What isn’t this?

But this processional isn’t all of those things. It isn’t a rallying cry for a military takeover of Jerusalem, as some hoped it would be.

There were folks in those days called zealots — they were people who wanted to take Jerusalem back by force, to rally against the Roman occupiers and the corrupt religious leaders. They were willing to lift up arms and take back their city.

But that’s not what this is.

Jesus does not have an armed guard. There are no visible weapons in this story and likely, all the people crowding the streets were the poor, the unarmed, the normal, average folks like you and me. There would be no upheaval, no riot, no armed takeover.

As an aside, I think of Christian activist Shane Claiborne and his work for advocating against the death penalty and reducing gun violence. He has spent years working to advocate for a free relinquishment of firearms and creating an artisan industry of refashioning these weapons into gardening tools and artwork. He is literally doing the work of beating swords into pruning hooks, as the prophets foretold.

This Triumphal Entry is not a military parade or the beginning of a political revolution — at least not in the way it would be expected to be.

And yet, the people still sing, Hosanna! Blessed be the one who comes in the name of the Lord!

We’ve seen what this parade isn’t.

And what it is, well, it’s much more subversive than pomp and power.

What this is is a humble servant, riding a donkey, on his way to overturn the power of death itself, the power that authority holds over the people, the ultimate device of domination.

What this is is an unauthorized celebration of life that conquers death. There are no permits, there are no police escorts, there is no fanfare, other than what people have plucked from their palm trees and their own garments they have laid at Jesus’ feet. This is an anti-parade, a humble offering, a gathering filled with love and promise and welcome. Hosanna!

Focus on vs. 39-40

Raise Your Hosannas in the Face of Opposition

Finally, we hear that the Pharisees rush to silence the followers of Jesus who have raised their voices and laid down their garments to welcome the coming King.

Who gave these people the right to do and say these things? This wasn’t sanctioned! This wasn’t authorized? They aren’t following protocol!!

Instead, these are people who have often been voiceless finding a space and a movement in which they can raise their voice. This is a picture of the power of the world being turned upside down.

When challenged, authorities of our world, secular or religious, will seek to justify, to clarify, to stomp out, or to shift the story. When challenged, the authorities will seek to maintain their position of power, their titles, their ability to shape the ways and practices of the masses.

Compare these leaders, again, with the owners of the colt — When the disciples take the colt, it is the commonly accepted authority of the Lord (whether that be Christ or any general or high ranking official of Rome or Jerusalem). The colt’s owners are at the authority and discretion of the ones in power, so they do not challenge. They are the masses, they are the proletariat, they are obedient to the powers that be.

So of course they let the disciples take the colt. Because the subversive nature of the Jesus movement is to use and then uproot the standard operating procedures of the empire and overturn it and lift up the powerless. Jesus undermines this power and authority and uses it to show the world something wholly different.

The Triumphal entry of Jesus the Christ is a proclamation that the powers of death and authority and might and riches and position have no hold upon him and the world he is ushering in. The Triumphal Entry is the recognition of an entirely different way of being, a way that lifts up the voiceless, that speaks truth to the powerful, that sets captives free from bondage.

And if not these people, if not the lowest and the tired and the old and the young and the weak…if not the outcast, the downtrodden, the hurting, the demonized, the scandalized…if not them, if not us…then even the most inanimate, dead of objects, a stone…will cry out, Hosanna!

Stones Cry Out

Let’s go back to the desert and the rocks. We may not have the same imagination for stones crying out because of our context. But in the desert of Nevada, this is a ripe metaphor. As we say in one of our Scriptural benedictions — may the mountains break before you in singing!

If the people are to be silenced by the authorities, then the rocks and hills will cry out! The palm branches will sing as they wave through the air.

More appropriate to our context, the benediction continues — “And the trees of the fields will clap their hands!” The evergreens and rhododendrons and ferns will sing for joy! The water on the bay will lap the shore and praise the coming Lord — Hosanna!

When Christ comes to us, he comes not in pomp or power. When Christ comes, he comes in humility and grace.

And so we, like the rocks, like the ferns, like the trees, we cry out — Hosanna!

Friends, I don’t know about you, but I often find it so challenging to know how to cry out Hosanna! I mean, I want to, I feel the burning in my bones, the joy and response of praise that this word encapsulates.

But so often, we wonder whether we can, really. Do we have permission? What will the powers that be think? What if we say the wrong thing, what if the wrong person overhears? Can we really praise this humble king when he doesn’t look like a powerful leader rolling through town in an expensive car? Should we really call him King, when doing so might get us in trouble with all the other rulers of the world who will feel threatened?

As we head into the darkness of Holy Week, here is a word for us: We must cry out! We MUST raise our voices! Our Hosannas must be spoken, lived, breathed. They MUST cry out!

When our voices are raised, when we speak the good news, all other authorities will be compromised and brought low. When we speak for the goodness of God’s liberating love, those in captivity will be set free! When we beat our swords into pruning hooks, our guns and our violence into beauty and healing, then the powers that would seek to silence begin to crumble.

And the good news that Jesus the Christ brings us today is this: When we cry out in Hosanna, we do so alongside all creation. The stones, the palms, the mountains, the trees — we join the chorus of all creation singing God’s praise. If we keep quiet, the stones will burst forth in cheers, the song of God’s beautiful world rises. Will we join that chorus, will we sing that song?

Once more, we the people of God say together, Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna!

Amen.