Who Is this Riding into Jerusalem? —Lectionary Reflection for Palm Sunday (Matthew 21)



Matthew 21:1-11 New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition

21 When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet:

“Tell the daughter of Zion,
Look, your king is coming to you,
    humble and mounted on a donkey,
        and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!
    Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

10 When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” 11 The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

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                Palm Sunday is in many ways one of the more joyous Sundays of the Christian year. Yet, it’s also one of the most misleading. It’s easy to get into the spirit of Palm Sunday. In many congregations, the people get to parade into church waving palm branches, perhaps led by the children or maybe the choir. In doing this we reenact Jesus’ triumphal entry, at least the part about the people welcoming Jesus as king of kings and the son of David. Our triumphal processions involve hymns such as “All Glory, Laud, and Honor” and “Ride on, Ride on in Majesty.” It can be a grand and glorious parade, and yet this grand and glorious hour quickly fades into something else much less triumphant as Holy Week moves forward. For many standing along the parade route that day, it may have appeared that Jesus was about to lay claim to the city, bringing about a revolution against the occupying Romans. But that revolution didn’t take place, at least not in the way many expected.

                Palm Sunday is one of those Sundays that many preachers find challenging. Yes, we enjoy the festive nature of the day, but where do we go from there? How do we prepare the congregation for Good Friday? Maybe it’s better to observe Passion Sunday, especially since the majority of the congregation likely won’t be at a Good Friday service. It’s a bit odd to jump from a triumphal entry to resurrection without some sense of what happens between Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday. We can easily be lulled into believing that the Christian life is just one triumph after another. It’s a message the prosperity gospelers preach, but it’s not the gospel of Jesus. So, we might want to keep in mind that this is but the opening act of Holy Week and not neglect the intervening story that involves suffering and death, two realities that we may wish to ignore but won’t go away.

                The lectionary readings for Palm Sunday pair a reading from Psalm 118 with a reading from Matthew 21. The reading from Psalm 118 provides a foundation, even a script for Matthew’s account of the triumphal entry. So, it’s worth reading Matthew’s account through the lens of the Psalmist. In that Psalm, we hear the message that provides hope for the journey ahead: “the steadfast love of the Lord endures forever” (Ps. 118:1, 29).

                Matthew offers us an account that is well-known to most church-goers. It’s the one we reenact on Palm Sunday. We begin We begin with the story of Palm Sunday as it is told in Matthew 21. It’s a well-known, oft-told story. The story begins in Jerusalem. In the preceding verses, Jesus and his followers had been in Jericho, where he healed two blind men who proclaimed Jesus the “Son of David.” Having healed them, the two men join in with Jesus’ band of followers (Mt. 20:29-34). Now, Jesus’ band regathers at the village of Bethphage, near the Mount of Olives. A similar story is told in Mark and Luke, as well as in John. Though in John’s gospel, Jesus’ triumphal entry comes in the wake of the raising of Lazarus (Jn.12:1-19).

                As the group arrives at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sends two of his disciples into the village of Bethphage to get a donkey for Jesus. The location of this village is uncertain, though the Mount of Olives is well known to readers of the Gospels. In Matthew’s account, they also get a colt as well. They’re told to untie them and bring them to Jesus. If anyone questions them, they’re to tell them that the Lord sent them to do this. Now, the question arises. Did Jesus set this up already? Or, does Jesus foresee this occurring? Those who argue for the latter version suggest that as the Son of God, Jesus knows such things. Now, in Matthew’s gospel, unlike in Mark’s account, such a conversation is not recorded (Mk 11:1-11). Apparently, Matthew isn’t concerned about a conversation, just a reminder that Jesus had everything under control.

                Now, as for the animals. The question has centered on why both the donkey and the colt? To answer that we go to Zechariah 9:9, which speaks of the coming ruler riding into Jerusalem “triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” While the reference in Zechariah is likely the result of a poetic parallelism, when brought into Greek by Matthew, one animal becomes two. It should be noted that only Matthew has two animals. Whatever Matthew has in mind, Jesus is about to fulfill Zechariah’s prophetic message. If we continue on in Zechariah 9, we’ll hear that this king who rides humbly on a donkey or even a colt will bring peace to the nations (Zech. 9:10).

                Now that Jesus has his donkey, he’s ready to head into the city. As he rides in on the donkey, the people understand what is happening. At least some of the folks in the crowd know of Zechariah’s vision of the coming king who will ride into the city in triumph. So, as he entered the city the people begin to spread their cloaks on the road ahead of him, while others in this growing crowd begins to cut down branches from nearby trees and spread them on the road ahead of Jesus. Matthew doesn’t specify palm branches, but we can import them from John’s account (Jn. 12:13). As the people put out the welcome mat for Jesus, the crowd begins to sing his praises, shouting “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” Here, Matthew’s crowd draws from Psalm118:25-26, using the words of the Psalm to hail Jesus as the one who comes in the name of Yahweh.  The word hosanna means “save us.” When the people shouted the word hosanna at Jesus they were declaring him to be their savior, their redeemer. For many in the crowd that meant confronting the Roman occupiers. We can understand why they would read this message into Jesus’ actions. But is this what Jesus had in mind? Or, did Jesus have in mind a different kind of messianic figure, a suffering messiah? After all, such a figure appears in the Dead Sea Scrolls. So could Jesus have understood the messianic mission in terms of Isaiah’s suffering servant? As Israel Knohl notes, the story of Jesus’ baptism by John at the Jordan, makes it likely that Jesus had engaged with the folks at Qumran (Knohl, The Messiah Confrontation, pp. 143-145).

                What Jesus does here, according to Matthew, is reenact the royal entrance. The people see this and acknowledge that this must be the one they were waiting for. Here is the Son of David, that is the Messiah. Here is where things get tricky. What kind of messiah is this Jesus? In fact, many in the crowd aren’t sure what is happening. It’s easy to get caught up in the frenzy of the crowd and not know exactly what is taking place. After all, everyone loves a parade. So, as he processes into the city, some in the crowd begin asking who is this person who is causing such a ruckus. Those in the know respond: “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

                One does not ride into a city in triumph, reenacting biblical texts that declare the rider to be the coming king, without getting the attention of the authorities, whether religious or political. They likely wouldn’t have welcomed such a parade. The religious and political authorities might have a different lens through which to view the action, but it’s quite likely they viewed it as a provocative act. Since local governance was largely in the hands of the Temple authorities (they were members of the non-messianic party of the Sadducees), they would not have welcomed expressions of messianic ideals. As for the Roman occupiers, they viewed with suspicion any overt political agitation that might threaten their rule. Making this more problematic for both the Temple authorities and the Roman authorities, is that Jesus decided to take this ride into the city just as the city began to fill up with pilgrims coming to the city to celebrate Passover. It would have been a volatile mix that could quickly get out of control.

                Whether Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan are correct in their depiction of what transpired that day in Jerusalem did take place, it does provide a contrasting vision. Borg and Crossan envision the city filling with pilgrims, many of whom accompany Jesus into the city. They speak of this as being a “peasant procession.” At the other end of the city, they envision a different procession taking place. This involved the Roman governor Pontius Pilate riding into the city accompanied by troops normally stationed at the Roman capital of Caesarea Maritima. They suggest that “Pilate’s procession displayed not only imperial power, but also Roman imperial theology. According to this theology, the emperor was not simply ruler of Rome, but the Son of God” [Borg and Crossan, The Last Week, p. 3]. In their view, Jesus and Pilate offer two contrasting views of power, one imperial and the other representing God’s realm. The two processions offer us a clash of ideologies and theologies. In this scenario, the two are likely to clash as the week progresses.

                While our reading concludes with the declaration that the person leading the parade is the “prophet Jesus from Nazareth of Galilee,” Matthew’s Jesus continues the journey all the way to the Temple, where he cleanses the Temple of the merchants who had taken over the courtyard. That wouldn’t have made the authorities happy. While the presence of the merchants and money changers was seen as being necessary so that pilgrims could make their offerings and sacrifices, Jesus saw this as a desecration of the Temple. As Israel Knohl points out: “In effect, Jesus had chosen to create pandemonium in the most sensitive place—the courtyard of the Temple, the most holy place of the Jewish people; and at the most sensitive time—a few days before Passover, the festival that most of the Jews in the world wished to celebrate in the Temple since it was a symbol of unity and freedom” [Knohl, The Messiah Confrontation, p. 147]. In other words, Jesus engaged in provocative behavior that caught the attention of the authorities, both religious and political. That could only lead to a dangerous confrontation. It’s not like Jesus was the first such person to engage in such behavior. So the authorities had reason to be concerned.

                Of course, Matthew doesn’t tell us about an imperial procession on the part of Pilate, only Jesus’ actions that day. For a moment we get to bask in the glory of that parade, always keeping in mind that this is not the last word. There might be triumph in that moment, but before long there will be suffering as well. As for the changing responses of the crowd, according to the gospels, the exuberant welcome given to Jesus on Palm Sunday would give way to rejection by the end of the week. People can be fickle!

                What the Palm Sunday parade does for us is allow us a moment to declare blessings to the one who comes in the name of the Lord. On the other hand, we need to remember that the triumphant tone of Palm Sunday can mislead us into embracing a triumphalist vision of Jesus’ messianic mission. We need to be aware of triumphalist eschatologies that envision the church marching onward to victory, conquering our way to dominance in terms of some form of manifest destiny. If we jump from Palm Sunday to Easter without stopping at Good Friday, we will fail to catch Jesus’ vision of God’s realm. Tom Troeger’s hymn for Palm Sunday, “A Cheering, Chanting, Dizzy Crowd,” describes the challenge for us in helpful language: In the final two stanzas of the hymn, he offers this reminder:

Lest we be fooled because our hearts have surged with passing praise,

remind us, God, as this week starts where Christ has fixed his gaze.

Instead of palms a winding sheet will have to be unrolled,

a carpet much more fit to greet the king across will hold. (Chalice Hymnal 193)

                While our parade of palms can stir our hearts, we must temper our enthusiasm by remembering that this triumphal entry leads to the cross. There will be no revolution, at least not the one some hoped Jesus would unleash. Remember he rides into the city, not on a warhorse but a donkey. His is a messianic vision rooted in humility. Nevertheless, he will end up on a Roman cross because Rome didn’t see a difference between a donkey and a warhorse. They understood his actions to be provocative, and therefore they had to be dealt with severely. For Rome, perceived revolutionaries tended to end up dying on crosses. No form of execution was as humiliating to a person and their followers as crucifixion. Nevertheless, in taking this path, he reveals God’s steadfast love that endures forever (Ps. 118:29). 

Image Attribution: Swanson, John August. Entry into the City, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=56544 [retrieved March 26, 2023]. Original source: Estate of John August Swanson, https://www.johnaugustswanson.com/.


Comments

Keitth58 said…
I find it fascinating that we including you good self let the Jews of the hook for the crucifixion of Jesus. The Roman found no fault in him but the Jews wanted him dead.Even the Nicene Creed says Jesus suffered under Pontius Pilate and makes no mention of the role played by the Jews.
Tom Paine said…
Everyone, except the Romans in the story, were Jewish. Including the disciples. Including Jesus!

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