The voice of a crowd is probably one of the most powerful forces in the world. And Jesus—who probably knew as much about our human responses to the world around us as anyone living today—certainly knew all about the power of the crowd to move people, to bring energy to a situation, to shift the political compass. His entry to Jerusalem gives indication of being carefully planned, not a spur-of-the-moment event. His procession wasn’t the only one in Jerusalem that day. Each year, just before the beginning of Passover, the Roman governor traveled from his home in Caesarea to make a show of power in case the fervor of the Jewish festival incited the people to revolt. Pilate entered Jerusalem with a great display of might—in the company of foot soldiers and cavalry, armor and clanging weapons, all the trappings of the power, glory and violence that ruled the world. Can you imagine a more pointed contrast to this imperial parade than Jesus’ entry on the back of a young colt? This dramatic counterpoint to the domination system of the day was designed to emphasize the difference between the world as it was and the world of God’s creation. The entry enacted the description given by the prophet Zechariah: “A king will come to you, humble and mounted on a colt. This king will cut off the chariot from Ephraim and the war-horse from Jerusalem; and the battle bow shall be cut off, and he shall command peace to the nations.” Peace. Not the violence of the Roman occupation. Peace.
Jesus lived out the prophecy, and the people got the message. It’s impossible for us to know what Jesus thought would happen after the procession. Did he hope for a shift in the people? Did he hope for a shift in the leaders of the Jews? Did he realize that this enactment might be seen as an indictment of the Jewish leaders who collaborated with the occupation forces to keep the peace? Did he realize that his action might be the tipping point that would lead to his death? We have no way of knowing. We do know that the event held so much power that we replicate it to this day.
As far as I can determine, Palm Sunday and Good Friday are the only days in the church calendar when the whole church acts out a scripture reading. At Christmas, the children frequently give us a peek at the events that occurred 2000 years ago, but most of us are observers at that drama. On the journey to the cross we are all part of the drama. We are all participants in the joy and in the fury. We live in both sides of our nature on this day, and in both situations, most of us can feel ourselves getting caught up in our words—at least a little bit. Can you imagine how it would be if we were actually in a crowd? Imagine us in the modern equivalent of the road just inside the gate of Jerusalem. Imagine us over in the mall, caught up in a crowd of people pushing and shoving to see the man we’ve heard about—a crowd of people celebrating the promise of scripture come to life right in front of us. Imagine our excitement—and then imagine how we would feel if the celebration were interrupted by a troop of occupying army—by the police, the sheriffs or the National Guard. Can you imagine how quickly we would disperse? Can you imagine how our voices would change—how we would try to distance ourselves and our loved ones from the force that’s trying to mow us down?
It’s hard for us to imagine ourselves in that situation. It’s hard for us to imagine the fear that would lead us to chant for the death of the one we’ve hailed as savior. It’s hard for us to imagine, but we know how easily we can move from one perspective to another. Today and during this Holy week, we stand as all people—people who are subject to a wide range of emotions—people who can get caught up in the moment—people who don’t always act as we would like to act—people who don’t always act the way we expect to act—people who don’t always act the way we remember we acted—people whose feelings and actions aren’t always connected to what we know or believe or hope.
Today we chant the hosannas—with perhaps a little bit of self-consciousness. And Friday we’ll be very conscious of ourselves as we say: Crucify him! Even as we chant and speak, we’re aware that we are not truly back in that moment in time.
We’re aware that we’re not back in that time, but as we enter this sacred space of time, I invite you to do your best to walk with Jesus along each step of his way to the cross, death and resurrection. The services planned for each day of the week will support you in living into the story. Reading along in the Gospel according to Mark, beginning with today’s portion in chapter 11, and entering the story as someone who was present during those days in Jerusalem will also help you move into the story. However you are able to journey with Jesus during this week, I invite you to be mindful of the moments of high emotion in your own life. I invite you to remember the time you were carried away with excitement—perhaps at a game or at hearing wonderful good news. I invite you to remember the time you found yourself filled with unexpected anger—perhaps at something a loved one did—perhaps at the actions of someone you experience as an enemy—or perhaps an attack of road rage that came at you from nowhere. I invite you to remember the time you were suddenly overwhelmed with sorrow. I invite you to remember all those times—to touch the moments if you can—to remember how close to the surface those powerful feelings were. I invite you to remember those times and know how very close we are to those people who shouted the hosannas and screamed “crucify!”