Sheepgate or Shepherd? - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter Year A

Sheepgate or Shepherd?

Easter 4A

April 30, 2023

Christ, Preston, MN

John 10.1-10; Psalm 23

There’s an old joke, “When is a door not a door?” The answer, of course, is “When it’s a-jar.” However, in some cases a door isn’t a door if no one can find it or use it.

My last settled call at Grace in Mankato had an early 1900s building that originally faced Main St. (South) to which was added a separate educational wing in the 1950s (North). In the 1960s the old church was replaced by a new one that now faced 4th St (East) and cobbled with the educational wing. Navigating the building was like being in an Escher drawing: you think you were going up but were really going down. 

Unfortunately, the address of the church was still on Main St. at a place in the building that had a rarely used door. Furthermore, the church offices were located downstairs in the back on the alley side of the building (West). So, except for a couple of hours on Wednesday and Sunday, people had to use the alley entrance to come into the building.  To make matters even worse, that door was located in a long, dark tunnel-like opening. A building consultant called this the Super-Secret Members-Only door, hardly inviting.

“I am the gate for the sheep,” Jesus tells the religious leaders of the day in John 10. We are back in the Gospel of John where we were for four Sundays in Lent as we looked at those texts pre-crucifixion. Now we will sojourn and view the texts from John through the lens of the resurrection. Either way, we remember that Jesus’“I am” statements make a claim. When Moses encounters God in the wilderness and asks God who it is that sends him to deliver his people, God responds “I am.” Today is “Good Shepherd Sunday” when we normally focus on Jesus as the Good Shepherd. But these 10 verses remind us Jesus also claimed to be the gate, or doorway, for the sheep. He recognizes the confusion of those first hearers, confusion that we share: which is he, Gate or Shepherd?

When I was in candidacy to become an ordained pastor, the Washington Metro DC synod had a committee that oversaw me as well as other candidates. The question I often asked about them (and other similar candidacy committees) was this: are they gatekeepers or shepherds. In other words, quite often candidacy committees function as gatekeepers, making candidates prove they are worthy to be ordained. I was grateful that my committee members were more like shepherds, helping me through the process. This is a metaphor that I often use in my work as chair of Committee on Reference & Counsel as we consider various resolutions to come before synod assemblies. Are we gatekeepers or shepherds?

So, which is Jesus, Sheepgate or Shepherd? The answer, of course, is “Yes!” But this is not in the sense we normally think. We’ll leave the metaphor of Jesus as Shepherd until next year. Today I want us to reconsider what it means for Jesus to be the gate of the sheep, not as being a barrier but rather the way into new life. And it’s not that we have to prove our worthiness to be a part of Jesus’ flock. Instead, where others put up walls and barriers to access God’s freely given grace, Jesus doesn’t. Jesus is a doorway to enter God’s love.

Grace Mankato is one of the most welcoming congregations I’ve met, but you wouldn’t have known it by the Super-Secret Members-Only door. The Good news is that now their building matches their identity. Through a building renovation project, the offices are at the front of the building and they’ve changed their address to reflect that new, visible location. As we think about Jesus as the Gate, I want us to ask ourselves what barriers, physical or otherwise, we might have erected that prevent people from encountering and experiencing the love and grace of God? What policies or procedures hinder God’s freely given grace and mercy? Jesus is the gate to God’s love. Thanks be to God. Amen.

My sermons often preach a little differently than written and you can find the video here.

In the Breaking of the Bread - Sermon for the Third Sunday of Easter Year A

In the Breaking of the Bread

Easter 3A

April 23, 2023

Christ, Preston, MN

Luke 24.13-35

During the Protestant Reformation 500 years ago  in the 1500s, there arose several squabbles which are now known as controversies. One of them was the Ubiquity Controversy. (Don’t you just love theological talk?) This controversy had to do with whether Jesus was physically present in Holy Communion, which had never been an issue until then. One faction in the Reformation said Jesus couldn’t possibly be physically present in Holy Communion because he has ascended to God’s right hand. Martin Luther, father of the Lutheran faction, responded in a way that would make biblical literalists proud: when Jesus says “This is my body, this is my blood,” that “is means is”

Then Luther makes an interesting move. Yes, he says, Jesus is at God’s right hand but the other faction has it backwards because God’s right hand is wherever Jesus is, not the other way around. He follows that by saying Jesus can be anywhere Jesus wants to be (thus the ubiquity in the controversy). But, ever the sacramentalist, Luther adds that, if we want to find Jesus he promises to be present within the body of believers, the preached word, the waters of baptism, and, of course the bread and wine of Holy Communion.

We hear in our text from Luke 24 today how “he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.” It’s still Easter Sunday and Cleopas with his unnamed companion are deeply in discussion on the road to Emmaus. They are trying to make sense out of the events from what we know as Maundy Thursday at the Last Supper to the crucifixion on Good Friday to the curious news from this morning. As they travel along, they are joined by a stranger who wants to know the source of their agitation.

Cleopas responds a bit snarkily, “Are you the only one that doesn’t know what happened?” But he nonetheless recounts the events, including their dashed hopes. The stranger, which we know to be Jesus, takes them back into scripture and integrates their story with God’s story. As they arrive at Emmaus and Jesus pretends to go on, the two disciples convince the stranger to stay with them, which he does. And in a turnabout, Jesus becomes both the host of the meal and the meal itself. When he does so,  he is made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

It’s amazing, isn’t it, as one observer notes, that on the eve of his greatest victory, Christ takes a walk and listens patiently to ones who don’t know what to make of life’s disruptions. Dare we hope for just such an encounter with New Life? Can we trust that the same Jesus who walked with those two disciples would take the time to walk with us in our broken existence?

In one of his books, Andrew Root tells a true story with fictitious characters. Woz is the unchurched and unbelieving grandson of a longtime, faithful church member who recently died. Out of respect for his grandmother, who often urged Woz to seek God, Woz does indeed go looking for God. He enters a Bible Study at his grandmother’s church, tells the story, and says he assumes they know where to find God. Sue, a member of the Bible study and leader in the congregation asks the question that is on everybody else’s mind: “Do we?” That begins a journey for Woz, her, and the congregation. They patiently walk together, trusting that God will show up somehow in some way, trusting their eyes will be opened to God’s presence.

My siblings in Christ, know that Jesus, the New Life, walks alongside you whether you know it or not, and that is true for you both personally and as a community of faith. If you can’t see that yet, also know that Jesus, both host and meal, will meet you today in bread and wine of Holy Communion. Hold on to the assurance that Jesus is Emmanuel, God with Us. For Christ is risen. Christ is risen, indeed, alleluia. Amen.

My sermons often preach a little differently than written and you can find the video here.

Resurrection Plus - Sermon for the Resurrection of Our Lord Year A

Resurrection Plus

Resurrection of Our Lord A

April 9, 2023

Christ, Preston & Union Prairie, Lanesboro

Matthew 28.1-10

Somewhere in the dark, dusty recesses of memory I learned something about American novels. I don’t know if it was in high school, but it may have been in my Early American Literature class my freshman year in college. Regardless, what I learned was that, peculiar to the American genre, our novels don’t end, they leave us hanging for more. Yes, they end in one sense, but not in another. We also see the phenomenon in movies and TV shows that employ  sequels and cliffhangers. And, as my wife and I like to joke, no one in the superhero shows we watch is ever really dead. Though we get snarky about this, the truth is that life is very open ended and contingent.

We don’t know what was going through the minds of the two Marys that first Easter morning as they came to the tomb. Did they wonder if they had a future now that Jesus was crucified, just as they had witnessed? They came to the tomb to see and watch, but what were they looking for, a miracle? Did they remember that Jesus predicted he would be raised, just as the angel reminded them? What kind of plans had they made as they waited through the sabbath? What were they going to do now?

Whatever they scheduled for that day was suddenly brushed aside by the heavenly visitor. The earth shook, the stone was rolled away, and the angel sat down as if it was just another day. “Quickly, go tell his disciples he’s been raised, just as he said, and that he’s going ahead of them to Galilee.” This is why Mary Magdalene is rightly called the First Apostle as well as the Apostle to the Apostles. She is the first sent with the message of resurrection and new life. And even as the two Marys do so, they encounter the risen Jesus. Falling at his feet, they began worshiping him. But there is little time for celebration as Jesus reiterates the angel’s message to the others. The good news can’t wait.

When we think of Easter and Jesus’ resurrection, we tend to think of eternal life in heaven. It’s as it should be as the promise of death being overthrown and time with loved ones is a bedrock promise of the Christian life. Yet, Jesus is clear that the resurrection is not an ending, but a beginning. Resurrection is for right now as well as later. They must go to Galilee, the Galilee  “of the Gentiles” as the prophet said. Galilee is where he started his ministry and it is where the message will unfold. As marvelous as the resurrection is, there is work to be done and people need to hear the Easter story.

This side of eternity death stops for no one. But the resurrection says we can have new life now. Worlds that seem dark and closed to us are suddenly broken open and are infused with life. Old perceptions of what is possible are shattered because God’s creative and transforming work is at loose in the world. During our midweek Lenten series, “God in Everyday Life,” we heard stories that give us a foretaste of what that new life looks like. Ron, Lori, Christy, some 9th grade Confirmation students, Grant, Anna, and Eric told us about how God brought new life into the darkest places any of us could possibly imagine.

The resurrection isn’t just an act of power, it is a powerful act of love by a God who continues to work in our world. The Easter proclamation isn’t “Christ was raised,” the past tense, although that is true. It could be “Christ has been raised,” the perfect passive for you grammar geeks, and that would be true, a past action having continuing action in the present. But we say, “Christ is risen,” the present tense, to declare new life now. Though life is indeed open ended and contingent, and we don’t know what happens next, we do know that the God who raised Jesus continues to be present in our lives every day. My siblings in Christ: Christ is risen, He is risen indeed! Alleluia. Amen.

My sermons often preach a little differently than written and you can find the video here.

Seven Last Words of Jesus - Good Friday Year A

The Seven Last Words of Jesus

Good Friday A 

April 7, 2023

Christ, Preston, MN
Luke 23; John 19; Matthew 27 

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” The words must have been difficult to utter, on two accounts. Having been seriously whipped, losing copious amounts of blood, walking all the way to Golgotha (the Hill of the Skull), carrying the burdensome crossbar, having his arms and legs nailed in place, suffering exhaustion and shock, every breath painful and labored, Jesus still somehow manages to speak. And yet these are not words of spite or hate or derision. No, they are the words of a prayer: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

The first words proclaimed from the cross are directed to Jesus’ Father who, for some obscure reason, has allowed his only Son to be brutally, savagely, and wrongfully murdered. Still, Jesus finds it in his heart and in his dying breath to plead forgiveness for the ignorance of humanity. In the name of God, Jesus begs pardon for those who claim to be acting in the name of God. Which of us, thinking that we spoke for God, have done what those who crucified Jesus did? How many of us, who are nowhere near Jesus in sinlessness, can forgive as Jesus did?

Jesus, the obedient Son gave himself as a sacrifice for the sins of humanity. He is the sacrifice that accomplishes forgiveness and, in that very act, asks for the forgiveness of all humanity, including you and me. Many people have died horrible deaths as Jesus did, and some may have forgiven their executioners, but only Jesus by his death fulfilled his purpose and teaching in life: to heal the brokenness of humanity; to repair the relationship between God and the creation; and to offer humanity a new way of living, one which God had intended for us from the very beginning. God, forgive us, for we do not know what we are doing. Amen.

“Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” An incredible promise made in response to a vague request: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” As St. Ambrose said many years ago, “More abundant is the favor shown than the request made.” One of those crucified with Jesus makes an incredible statement of faith but asks for very little: simply to be remembered. What he receives is grace heaped upon grace: the offer of Paradise.

Remarkably, this second criminal can see something in Jesus that the first criminal dismisses sarcastically: Jesus is the Messiah. The Messiah, the Anointed One, the Christ, was the One that Jewish people had been expecting to come for many years. They expected the Messiah to be a descendant of King David and therefore they were looking for a warrior king who would drive out the Romans and restore the kingdom of Israel as the centerpiece of the world. Jesus hardly looked like a king to the first criminal.

It’s been only a few days since Jesus came riding into Jerusalem like a conquering hero sitting on a royal beast. The crowds had shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of David. Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!” Now, the words of blessing have been turned to words of mockery; now the shouts of “Hosanna” have been turned to shouts of “Crucify him!” Yet the second criminal sees what the other does not: Jesus’ throne is the cross; his humiliation is his exaltation; and his kingdom is not of this world but is the one that God has promised since the fall of humanity in the Garden of Eden: Paradise.

Despite evidence to the contrary, Jesus’ authority is very much intact. Jesus is very much a king who can confer promises and blessings even in the most hopeless of situations. Jesus’ faith is unshaken throughout his life, and even unto death. Those who have faith in the faithfulness of Jesus receive the saving benefits of his kingdom, even as he dies. Jesus, remember us as you come into your kingdom, and let us be with you in Paradise. Amen.

“Woman, here is your son. Here is your mother.” Jesus looks out through eyes almost swollen shut because of the beating he has taken, eyes that are stinging from the mixture of sweat and blood pouring down from his forehead, on which sits the crown of thorns. Still, he can see those who are nearest and dearest to him. They are in agony because of his agony; and he is in agony over their agony. But most importantly, Jesus can look through the eyes of love. It’s not only love for all of humanity but also love for those that have touched his heart in a special way: his mother and the disciple Jesus loved.

Of course, Jesus loves all of us, but love is deepened as relationships are deepened. Jesus’ relationship with his mother is especially deep, almost as deep as God’s love for the world. It’s deep because Mary is a mother like all mothers, tied to their children with more than an umbilical cord. But it’s deep also because Mary intimately knows the unmerited grace that chose her to bear God’s Son. Children need mothers, and mothers need children to care for, but mothers also need children to care for them.

And so, Jesus, amid the gambling and pettiness, indeed amid his death, takes time to attend to what may seem trivial in comparison to his awesome work. But it is not trivial to him, nor is it trivial to us. He bequeaths to each other the things most precious to him, and in doing so shows us that his work is not only eternally significant; it is significant for the here and now. In providing for his mother and the beloved disciple, Jesus models a pattern of care and concern for our earthly needs and relationships.

Yet, because of the cross and what it stands for, Jesus also demonstrates the formation of fellowship, what we now call the family of faith. The cross marks the formation of a new people of God, at the center of which stands Mary, Jesus’ Mother, and the Beloved Disciple, symbols of faithful discipleship. Jesus, gather us as sibling and parents of faith. Amen.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” It would be difficult to imagine any place more God forsaken than the cross. An instrument of torture and humiliation, the cross stands for the very opposite of God’s intention for humanity. The cross was about the farthest place one could get from God’s purposes in the world. And Jesus, God’s own Son, was at that place. Echoing the words of Psalm 22, a psalm of lament, Jesus expresses that deepest of human questions that many of us have uttered, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Should anyone dare to question the humanity of Jesus, they would look no further than the cross and these words. We are all too aware of Jesus’ suffering, especially those of us who have seen Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ.” But we are less certain about his emotional state and tend to speculate what was going through his mind and what these words mean. On the surface, they seem to be words of hopelessness, faithlessness, and despair.

Instead of trying to read Jesus’ mind we might pay more careful attention to his words, especially as an echo of the psalm. As a good and faithful Jew, Jesus was comfortable with arguing with God. God chose humanity for a special relationship, one that included frank and open exchanges. Just as Abraham, Moses, and Jonah challenged God, so did Jesus. And the intensity of his words is directly proportional to the depth of his faith. One doesn’t chastise a God that one doesn’t believe in. Only those who have great confidence in God can be disappointed when God remains aloof.

If Jesus is abandoned by God, it can only be because he is giving his life for sinners. Sin is separation from God, and Jesus took our sins upon himself, paying the price for us. We may not be able to know fully what Jesus means in his anguished cry, but we also cry, “My God, my God, please do not forsake me.” Amen.

“I am thirsty.” His tongue bloated and dry from the loss of body fluids, Jesus utters another simple yet profound statement. “I am thirsty.” It’s a wonder he could talk at all as he nears the end of his life. Of course, he was thirsty, as any human being would be thirsty in that condition. Water is the lifeblood of all creation, including our bodies, which are biologically bags of water. Without water we die. Jesus is thirsty; Jesus is dying; and dying of thirst is a horrible way to die.

It’s somewhat ironic, isn’t it, that the one who claims to be the Living Water, and who promises to his followers that they will never thirst, is thirsty himself. We who come with tongues hanging out to the Thirsty One are told that we will never thirst nor hunger ever again. Our tongues are bloated and our stomachs are swollen as we seek that which truly satisfies the deepest thirsts and hungers imaginable. For some reason, we look for that satisfaction on the cross.

We do so because we are told that scripture says it to be so. In a more profound sense, Jesus thirsts as a fulfillment of Scripture, and Jesus must fulfill scripture. It’s what is called “divine necessity” because it is what God has deemed necessary for the completion of God’s plan of salvation. Since the very beginning, followers of Jesus have tried to make sense of his death, and they have scoured the scriptures trusting that God has not done anything that contradicts what was promised and what was necessary.

God did do something totally unexpected and new in the sending and crucifixion of the Son, Jesus. But it was not outside of the promises made to us in scripture. It was necessary that Jesus both thirst and die for us, because God was determined to repair the broken relationship with each and every one of us. Dear God, we are thirsty. Give us some of that Living Water. Amen.

“It is finished.” Finished: over, done with, ended, completed. Any of these words can be used but what is finished? In the immediate sense Jesus’ life is over. He commends his spirit to God and breathes his last. The agony of beating, scourging, and crucifixion is finally over with. Death may even be welcomed, though not on its own terms. To the end death only comes when Jesus is ready for it to come. It’s over only when Jesus says it is over.

There is another meaning to, “It is finished.” Jesus’ death signals the end of his ministry on earth. No longer will Jesus preach, teach, and heal. Already the memory of his time with humanity starts fading from their minds. Already his presence on the earth is like some dream: faintly recalled but earnestly desired to continue.

But with the end of Jesus’ earthly ministry comes the completion of his mission from God. So here is another aspect to, “It is finished.” Jesus has accomplished all that God has asked him to do, even to the very giving of his life. For “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish…not to condemn the world but that the world might be saved through him.” Scripture has been fulfilled as God has promised. Though Satan’s hold on the world seems to have solidified, it has been broken instead; the Tempter’s rule is over.

However, we who gather to ponder Jesus’ last words know that this ending is not the ending. But let us not rush too quickly away from the foot of the cross. We need not wallow in Jesus’ death, but it is right that we linger a bit longer. We must acknowledge the shadow of the cross that falls upon each of our paths. And as we anticipate the fulfillment of God’s promises we welcome the power of the cross in our lives. It is finished. Almost. Amen.

“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” One last gasp, and a holy one at that. Darkness now fills the earth as death is at hand. Jesus’ unrighteous crucifixion takes on cosmic significance. So much so that the temple curtain is torn in two from top to bottom. The powers of evil and darkness are poised to take over the rule of the earth, waiting for Jesus’ final breath.

Breath: pneuma in the New Testament Greek; ruah in the Old Testament Hebrew. These same words are used for breath, wind, and spirit. It is the wind that passes over the waters of creation. It is the breath of God that is the life force found in humanity. It is that which enlivens the prophets of God and inspires us to follow Jesus. It’s what we call Holy when it proceeds from the Father and Son: calling, gathering, and setting aside disciples into the church; it bestows gifts to be used for the benefit of all; it unifies believers into the very broken body of Jesus Christ; it pronounces forgiveness, the same forgiveness that Jesus prays we may receive; and it breathes in us the hope that the powers of darkness will not prevail.

Jesus, the one who was handed over to death, freely hands over to God what God first gave him. He places himself squarely into the hands of the One that he has always trusted, God the Father. Jesus again displays a supreme act of human dedication by entrusting his very spirit to God. The Spirit has been with Jesus throughout his life and ministry: at his conception, his baptism, his transfiguration, his whole ministry of teaching, preaching, and healing.

We who are also soil and spirit, dust and breath of God, are also handed over with Jesus. We who have been baptized into Jesus likewise have been baptized into his death. As Jesus completes his mission on earth, we who are gathered at the cross utter with great fear and trepidation, “Father, into your hands we commend our spirits.” Amen.

My sermons often preach a little differently than written and you can find the video here.

At the Table - Sermon for Maundy Thursday Year A

At the Table

Maundy Thursday A

April 6, 2023

Christ, Preston, MN

Matthew 26.17-30

Many years ago, Cindy and I were members of Nativity Lutheran Church in Alexandria, VA, just outside of Washington DC. I was still a lay person and had gotten involved in leadership positions. Over 20 years prior to that, as a new church start, a “Phase 1” facility had been built. There was a multipurpose room used as a temporary sanctuary, some offices and classrooms. But for some reason, Phase 2 had languished and was not built. Finally, there was energy to add a permanent sanctuary and folk from the denominational headquarters in New York, the old Lutheran Church in America, arrived to “help.” 

Unfortunately, the meeting got contentious and emotions ran high. I don’t remember the exact issues, but I suspect it had to do with the long time since Phase 1 had been built. Even so, after a long and trying day, we closed out our time with worship and Holy Communion. As we gathered around the railing together I could feel the tensions dissolve. There was something about gathering around the table that restored us and healed our relationships.

I often wonder what the meeting would have been like had we started with worship and Holy Communion just as Jesus started his journey to the cross with the meal that we now call the Lord’s Supper. Scholars debate whether this meal was a true Passover meal, but Matthew is clear that the Passover themes permeate the story: we are delivered and freed, just as the Israelites were.

I came across an old Jewish folktale that says before God created the world, he forgave it. It seems that forgiveness, grace, and mercy are baked into the very essence of the world. It’s in our DNA. Of course, there was nothing to forgive at creation, but God anticipates the need for it anyway. Just so, Jesus anticipates the need for forgiveness, not only for Judas and the disciples but also us. It doesn’t change Judas’ betrayal and the desertion by the disciples, but it anticipates it and  provides for it.

The importance of meals is well-attested in the Bible, including tonight’s reading from Exodus. The meal we now call Passover not only prepared the Israelites for escape, it embodies the very themes of deliverance and in the reenactment. For thousands of years it continues to remind us of God’s presence. Meals were and are crucial for hospitality. They were even safe places, refuges from harm. It is no small thing that when people gather for significant occasions, we eat.

We know that God loves us and we hear the words of assurance to that effect during every worship service. But God knows we are fleshly creatures who not only forget but also need tangible expressions of that love. Holy Communion addresses all of our senses. We touch, taste, feel, hear, and see God’s love for us. That’s why I love Lutheran Sacramental theology because it claims, as Jesus said, “This is my body, this is my blood.” that we take the very creator of the universe, who forgives, into us. Tonight, as we continue our journey with Jesus and thinking about how he was stripped and beaten, mocked and condemned, deserted by his closest friends, we do so by first eating with him. We come to the table by faith, for faith, knowing that whatever our failings, God loves and forgives. Thanks be to God. Amen.

My sermons often preach a little differently than written and you can find the video here.

On the Road - Sermon for Palm Sunday Year A

On the Road

Palm Sunday A

April 2, 2023

Christ, Preston, MN

Matthew 21.1-11

A few years ago, pre-pandemic, I was having lunch with other interim pastors following a meeting at the synod offices in Rochester. A young woman came up to the table and said, “Do you know who I am? Do you remember me?” I did recognize her, though it had been 10 years since I’d seen her as a middle school Confirmation student. But before I could find the name in the deep recesses of my memory, she blurted out her name, “I’m Carla!” We spent a few minutes chatting as she caught me up about her and her family. She had to leave quickly as she was on her lunch break and needed to return to work. As I sat down, one of my colleagues said, “Don’t you just hate that?” In the sense they meant it, yes it was a bit awkward, but I was truly grateful to see her and how she had matured.

As Jesus enters Jerusalem he is subtly engaging in a game of “Do you know who I am?” The crowds who gather to watch this spectacle of donkeys, cloaks, and palms appear to play along with him. “Who is this?” they say to one another even as we know that this is no frivolous game. They take stabs at identification saying, “Son of David,” prophet, and the “one who comes in the name of the Lord” Yet, these seem wholly inadequate to those of us who have been traveling with Jesus this Lenten season.

New Testament scholars Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan believe that there were likely two contrasting entrances into Jerusalem that Passover. On the opposite side of town from Jesus who entered from the East would have been the Roman Governor Pontius Pilate from the west. During Passover the population of Jerusalem would swell to many times its size and, to forestall riots, Pilate would make a show of force by entering Jerusalem. Furthermore, he would come mounted on a warhorse followed by heavily armed Roman soldiers. It is doubtful that the pilgrims who have arrived to celebrate Passover would lay garments and shout, “Hosanna, save us!”

Though Jesus doesn’t talk much, his actions speak volumes: in response to “Who is this?” he says, “Not who you think.” Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a donkey, the mount of kings, not a warhorse like Pilate. And he comes from the East, the Mount of Olives, where prophecy had predicted that deliverance for the people would come from. In case you didn’t catch it, Matthew supplies us with a quote from Zechariah underscoring that this king would be the very antithesis of strongarm despots such as Pilate, one ruling with gentleness and humility.

We know that there were different ideas of who the Messiah would be, but the prevailing one was that the Messiah would be a warrior king like his ancestor David and that his descendant would be someone who would defeat the Roman occupation and kick them out. We get a very big hint today that Jesus will not be who we expect him to be, that he will resist being tied to preconceived notions, and he will not conform to a role dictated by those in power. Jesus will overthrow the powers of evil and heal the brokenness of the world in his own way.

The question of “Who is this?” invites not only reflection on our part but also compels us to walk with Jesus as we discover for ourselves who he is and what he means to us and our world. A hint: among other things, Jesus is the one who willingly and for our sake enters the darkest places, encountering the worst this world has to throw at him to bring light and abundant life to us and all of creation. This is a hard road to Easter, going through Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, but nonetheless an important one. We need to do this to answer, “Who is this?” Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna to the Son of David. Amen.

My sermons often preach a little differently than written and you can find the video here.