While on vacation, we were walking back to the hotel when we heard it. Bang-a-bang-bang! Thud-thud-thud! Bang-a-bang-bang! Thud-thud-thud!

Off in the distance, it sounded as if a parade was happening. It seemed an odd time of day, but whatever was going on, it was noisy!

Getting closer to the hotel, the noise grew louder. The parade seemed to be very close. Rounding the corner, I wondered what we would find: marching bands, a float, perhaps even an elephant or two.

Instead, we discovered a small pickup truck with three guys banging on overturned plastic buckets. A couple of people were dressed up in old, ragged clothes walking behind the truck and shouting something.

A young woman, also dressed up in old, ragged clothes walked up with a plastic bucket and said to us, “We’re raising money for humanitarian aid. Please give!”

What seemed like a great big commotion off in the distance was really a group of college students out raising money for charity. Off in the distance, it sounded like it was a major event with people lining the streets. Up close, it did not look like much was happening at all.

As Jesus entered Jerusalem, the parade following him was a ramshackle affair. In Jerusalem, there were parades in honor of the powerful elite. Seeing this out-of-towner perched precariously on a colt with a bunch of Galilean hayseeds waving branches paled in comparison to the big parade to which Jerusalem was accustomed, whether it was a religious festival or some Roman mucky-muck riding through in a show of power. Some people enjoyed the spectacle and joined in the fun. Others kept walking or shopping. It was Passover, the city was crowded, and this little parade seemed almost lost in the shuffle.

Note, however, that Jesus did not intend a low-key or subtle entrance into town. He chose a colt and a grand entrance to make a point. The palm procession is laden with religious symbolism. Jesus starts out from the Mount of Olives, where years ago the prophet Zechariah claimed God will appear in final judgment, standing upon the Mount of Olives and then splitting it in two as a show of divine force and authority. The young colt serves as a symbol of authority and power. No other person has rode this colt, signifying Jesus’ uniqueness as if some sort of royalty. The people following Jesus shout words that are far from political slogans. Shouting out to the Lord and giving praise to the one who shall rule like King David of old, the people proclaim Jesus endued with a higher authority. The cries of “Hosanna” are not mere acclamations. “Hosanna” means “save, please!” While everything looks ramshackle, the parade is the grand entrance to a week that shall know controversy, confrontation, betrayal, great suffering, and tragic loss. This lone figure on a young colt shall be the salvation of the world. “Hosanna” (“save, please”) resounds at the outskirts of Jerusalem just as surely as it shall take on new meaning when the story gets to Golgotha. Up close, though, it did not look like much was happening at all.

The gospel of Mark presents an image of Jesus resolved to undertake the journey into Jerusalem, which will end with his crucifixion and death. Indeed, Mark says many people joined in with the festivities of the parade, shouting and waving their branches, whereas later that same week, Jesus dies alone and abandoned on the cross. Before we get to the unexpected good news of Easter, we have to journey through the hard truths of Palm Sunday turning into Good Friday. Make no mistake: there is a cross looming over this story.

On this side of history, we look at the New Testament as ancient authority of a faith now two millennia old and the festive parade as an old familiar story, recollected through hymns and Sunday morning processions. The Palm procession is an important “plot point” along the journey to the Cross, giving Christians ancient and contemporary valuable insight into Jesus’ resolve to go through with his certain persecution and death, told in common by the four gospels as testimony to Jesus’ faithfulness before God.

Other early Christian writings, especially those called “epistles”, or letters, also speak of what lies ahead of Jesus on the way into Jerusalem. Paul, the most prominent of the New Testament epistle writers, calls the early Christians regularly before the image of the cross. The Philippians’ reading heard earlier in the worship service (Phil. 2:5-11) is part of Paul’s exhortation to the Philippian Christians to live their lives according to the ways of Christ. This particular passage of Philippians is thought to be an early Christian hymn, a song from worship. As I read this passage, I find in its poetic beauty wonderful praise of Christ’s vulnerability equal to Mark in sharing the “why” behind the Palm procession. Even though he was God, Christ took on the limitations, the weaknesses, and the vulnerability of human life. Christ had due claim to “glory, laud, and honor”, yet his kingship is found in humility, lowliness, and servanthood. Living in the midst of the Roman empire, where the ruling class kept “pax Romana” with drawn sword at the ready, the early Christians sang in their worship of the One who was greater than any emperor, whose life is lived in the richness of simple, humble fidelity to God alone. The New Testament writers would ask us to see the great faith in God, not getting caught up in the day’s sentiment or merriment. “Hosanna” (“save, please!”) ought to delight and haunt us over the next few days. 

As Jesus rides through the city, with the people raising their voices in support today and disappearing when things turn tragic, you have some decisions to make as you read the Passion story. To follow Jesus, you undertake a long, strange journey called “the way of Jesus Christ”, challenging you to take on a different sort of life. Will you follow Christ from the outskirts of the city, to the confrontations with the powers that be of religion and state, to the difficult evening of sacred meal followed by disciples who betray as well as deny Christ? Will you follow Christ to the agony of Friday and the hollow despair found on Saturday? During this most holy of weeks, ask yourself the hard question: how will these next few days challenge, inspire, and unsettle you?

This morning, a schedule of the next few days is in your bulletin. Take time in the midst of your life to make these days the center of your week. Go to work, tend the needs of your household, but reframe what you do this week by where Christ is at in the midst of Holy Week. Pray more earnestly. Read the latter parts of Mark’s gospel (chapters 11 onward). Join the gathering on Thursday evening for a common meal and a time of communion. Then on Friday, carve out some time in your day for reflection (St Peter’s invites you to the ecumenical Good Friday service). On Saturday, take the handout provided to you in the bulletin to guide your day. Read my sermon from last year’s Good Friday service and be challenged by its hard word for us. Live in the emptiness of Holy Saturday and consider how your faith summons you to solidarity with the pain of the world. Let the fullness of this week be what it was for Christ: a time of challenge as well as a time for showing the world what life with God is about: living a faith vulnerable and resolved enough to make a difference in an otherwise broken world.

I close with thoughtful words written by Yale Divinity School’s distinguished professor Dr. Margaret A. Farley. As I read Farley’s reflections on Mark 11 for this week, I find she captures the deeper meanings of the day. Of Palm Sunday and the Holy Week ahead of us, Farley writes:

“There is a time to stand before all the world in a word of truth—bearing witness to a life, a love, a dignity so great that neither death nor anything else will destroy it, or even render it silent” (Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 2, Westminster/John Knox Press, 2009).

May we follow Christ. AMEN.