Entrances

Zechariah 9: 9-10

Hebrews 10:1-18

Matthew 21:1-11

Entrances

One of the most gruesome, hopeless places in early nineteenth century England was “debtor’s prison.” Charles Dickens described it for us in his writings, but thousands of England’s poor lived it first-hand. Everything the debtor owned was confiscated. Nothing was left. If any debts still remained, debtors were imprisoned until the balance owed could be paid. This, of course, could never be because the debtor was locked up. It was a situation without hope. Once you entered a debtor prison, you were stuck, unless someone paid your debts for you. Of course, if they did, you were then indebted to them.

That was “civilized” nineteenth century England. But according to ancient Jewish law, there was a time limit on how long you could hold a person accountable for their debts. And, there were moral limits on what could be demanded in payment for debts. Among those things that were legally “off-limits” was a person’s most important piece of clothing, their “cloak.” Less substantial garments could be held as collateral. But a person’s cloak was considered to be in a category by itself. A cloak offered warmth and protection. It provided modesty, shielding nakedness. A cloak doubled as clothing and shelter, functioning as haberdashery by day and as a bedroll by night.

You could take a lot in payment for debts, but you could not take the cloak off someone’s back. But a cloak could always be OFFERED. Sir Walter Raleigh legendarily swept his cloak off his shoulders and flung it over a mud puddle so his Queen’s foot would not be dampened. In today’s gospel text cloaks were offered for theological, not meteorological reasons.

In those days, kings entered cities they conquered either riding a stallion or on a spectacular chariot. As Jesus prepared to enter into Jerusalem proper, he intentionally “changes things up.” The Galilean ministry is at an end. The time for keeping a low profile is over. It is a new messianic moment. Jesus had announced to his disciples the fate that awaited “the Son of Man” once he entered into the city of Jerusalem. As Jesus crossed into Jerusalem the Calvary cross already stood before him. He chooses to embody the image of the humble king, the meek Messiah, riding on a small and simple donkey.

The Greek author Plutarch describes how kings were supposed to enter a city. He tells about one Roman general, Aemilius Paulus, who won a decisive victory over the Macedonians. When Aemilius returned to Rome, his triumphant procession lasted three days.

The first day was dedicated to displaying all the artwork and precious items that Aemilius and his army had plundered. The second day was devoted to all the weapons of the Macedonians they had captured. The third day began with the rest of the plunder, all the livestock taken, and wagons borne by 250 oxen, whose horns were covered in gold. This included more than 17,000 pounds of gold coins. Then came the captured and humiliated king of Macedonia and his extended family.

 Finally, Aemilius himself entered Rome, mounted on a magnificent chariot. Aemilius wore a purple robe, interwoven with gold. He carried his laurels in his right hand. He was accompanied by a large choir singing hymns, praising the military accomplishments of the great Aemilius. That is how a king was supposed to enter a city in those days.

But the King of Kings? He entered riding on a lowly donkey. If he had consulted his political advisors, they would have been aghast. What was he up to? Leaders are supposed to project strength and power.

When Jesus emerged on the public scene he was an overnight sensation. Great crowds came to hear him preach. A wave of religious expectation swept the country. He would try to go off to be alone and the people would still follow him.

On Palm Sunday the masses lined the streets as he entered Jerusalem. Leafy palm branches waved as symbols of freedom, and cloaks were spread before him, and there were shouts of Hosanna. In shouting “Hosanna” they were in effect saying “Save us now” Jesus. They expected this miracle performing man to perform the greatest miracle of all—drive out the Romans and restore Israel as a great power.

But the cheering did not last for long. There came a point when the tide began to turn against him. Oh, you didn’t notice it so much at first. People still came to see him, but the old excitement was missing, and the crowds were not as large as they had been. His critics now began to publicly attack him. That was something new.

Earlier the Pharisees and Sanhedrin had been afraid to speak out for fear of the masses, but they began to perceive that the fickle public was turning on him. Soon the opposition began to snowball. When they discovered that they could not discredit his moral character, they began to take more desperate measures. Before it was all over a tidal wave welled up that brought Jesus to his knees under the weight of a cross.

Why did the masses so radically turn against him? How did the shouts of “Hosanna” on Sunday transform into the shouts of “Crucify” on Friday? I am not just talking about the immediate events that may have brought it about, but the deeper root causes. What were the underlying issues? In five days it all fell apart. Why? Why did the cheering stop?

Jesus did not turn out to be the avenging king the Hebrew people wanted. He did not perform a great miracle against the Romans. Instead, Jesus began to talk more and more about commitment. He dared to suggest that all people are worth loving, ever perhaps the Romans, the hated enemy. And, Jesus began to talk more and more about a cross. The cross was a hated symbol of Roman oppression and for Jesus to talk about having to pick up a cross to follow him brought raw emotion to the surface for those who had seen the horrible crucifixions to which the Roman’s subjected people.

"Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem. Behold, your king comes to you. He is just and he brings salvation. He comes as the lowly one, riding upon an ass, upon a colt, the foal of an ass." Jesus entered Jerusalem with obedience and humility, not in a chariot, or on a stallion. He entered Jerusalem on a donkey. Symbolically his back is already bared, readied for the cruelties and sacrifices that await him.

In our lives we make all kinds of entrances. We enter kindergarten and become so independent of our parents. We enter college with dreams and hope. We enter a new job with anticipation. We enter marriage with expectations. We enter life itself, vulnerable--helpless--and in need of love and care, without which we cannot survive. When we come to the end of our life here on earth, what will be our entrance into God's presence?

One festive day Jesus had cloaks laid on the ground ahead of him—the one item that could never be required to fulfill a debt. Five days later many of these people required his life be given up because he did not fulfill their requirements. They felt he owed them a debt and had to give his life for it.  He gave his life, and in so doing asked for their forgiveness. He did pay their debt. And ours.

We need to ask ourselves these questions: Where would we have been on that day when Jesus entered Jerusalem? Would we have laid our cloaks in front of him? Would we have been shouting “Hosanna”?  Then, where would we have been five days later. What would we have shouted then?

Jesus does not want our accolades. If we notice in these days of Holy Week a close brush with the divine grace of God, that he is passing near, let us make room for him in our souls. Let not just spread on the ground  palm or olive branches; let us put our hearts there. Let us be humble. Let us be willing to give everything, even our life itself, to follow Jesus. This is the homage Jesus expects from us.

  

Amen