Palm Sunday C
April 10, 2022
Good Shepherd, Wells, MN
Luke 19.28-40; 22.1-6
Those of us who grew up in the 1960s and 70s probably tuned in to ABC’s “Wide World of Sports.” There weren't many other sports to watch back then, no cable or ESPN. Even if we didn’t watch the show, we probably remember the intro to the program where a series of sports shots would flash across the screen while the host, Jim McKay, would intone, “The thrill of victory…” Then, seconds later, when a ski jumper would land and wipe out spectacularly, he would soberly add “… and the agony of defeat.” The juxtaposition of those two phrases, “the thrill of victory” and “the agony of defeat” encapsulates how sport imitates life: we can quickly go from hope to despair.
If sport is a metaphor for life, then our religious practices not only reflect the reality of life but try to make sense out of it. It does so by asking, “Where is God in all of this” and “What does it mean for us?”Today, with Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, we are caught up in the “thrill of victory.” We wave our palms and sing “All Glory Laud and Honor.” Some of us even wave the palms above our heads, rather exuberantly. (By the way, did you notice that Luke’s version omits the palms? It’s a quirk of his version and he apparently doesn’t think they are important.)
This is good and right and as it should be, to hail Jesus’ coming with hope and anticipation. Even so, there is no small amount of trepidation on our part. For if we didn’t know the rest of the story for this week (which we do), some of us are waiting for the other shoe to drop. We see hints in this story that all will not be smooth sailing for Jesus this week. For example, it appears that the religious leaders of the day will not go quietly. Cheers will become jeers and praise will become pain.
Some historians note that as Jesus was coming down from the Mt. of Olives from one side of Jerusalem it was likely that there was a very different procession from the other. The Roman governor Pontius Pilate would have arrived from the opposite side of Jerusalem. Furthermore, Pilate would be mounted on a war horse surrounded by armed soldiers. This show of force would be to forestall any unrest by the throngs of pilgrims entering Jerusalem for the Passover celebration. Jesus, with his ragtag band of followers on a kingly donkey offering a different kind of peace than the so-called “Pax Romana,” the “Peace of Rome.” Jesus’ peace would come another way.
But I don’t want to move too quickly past today, even though we are eager to be on our way. A colleague told a story about a well-known author who was in Houston, TX on Good Friday. She was looking for a service and could only find one, at a large, famous megachurch. (I won’t mention the name of it or its well-known pastor.) She was skeptical but decided to give it a shot. The service started out well: the “church” was in darkness and the mood appropriately somber. That is until 10 minutes into the service, the lights went up and a voice boomed, “But Easter’s coming!” Good Friday only lasted 10 minutes. We won’t be doing that on Good Friday, but we also won’t be doing Good Friday today as is often the case in many churches.
Instead, at the end of today’s service we’ll read a part of the story that leads to the Last Supper, celebrated on Maundy Thursday. Meanwhile, I invite you to reflect on the meaning of Hosanna, which means, “Save us!” and from what we are to be saved. Think about how our hopes and fears are often wrapped up in each other. Ponder how God shows up in unexpected ways in our lives to be the God we need and not the God we often want. Join the parade of Jesus, walk with him to Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and beyond as God walks with us. Amen.
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