While we’ve been moving toward the Cross during this Lenten journey, we’re going backwards a bit for Palm Sunday to the story traditionally told on this day.
This is a moment of celebration. A moment of joyful anticipation. The man that is the Son of God has arrived and the people are so excited. They welcome him. They make grand displays of laying down their clothes for him, and the animal he rides, to walk in on. It’s a red-carpet affair. My bible gives this passage the heading, “Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem.” It feels like he’s won something. That we’ve won something. Maybe it’s the recognition of his value. That his teachings and miracles have finally proven socially and culturally significant.
Imagine it.
Imagine hearing about Jesus for so long. Learning about the things he has said, the things he has done. Maybe you know someone that saw him teach once. Maybe you have. Maybe you know someone that was healed or fed by him. Maybe you were. And he’s here! He’s in your town and everyone is going to see how wonderful this man is. Everyone is going to get to experience his Divine presence. This is a jubilee.
Things are going great! Any doubts you might have had about Jesus can be put away. Look at everyone around you and how they receive him. You’re a part of this incredible movement and adventure that connects to Jesus. It feels great and it’s so easy. You praise and worship without hesitation.
Okay.
I must confess that I felt angry while reading this passage. It’s supposed to be a celebration, and I feel like I’m the person against the wall at the party that refuses to join in the fun. Because I know what’s coming. I know how quickly this is going to come crumbling down. And I think I felt this way, because, like last week, when I realized that I had the capacity to play even the villainous roles in the story, I see myself in this story too. And my fickle nature is on display. My capacity for betrayal and harm just as much as joy and support.
Things aren’t hard, at this moment, for folks that support Jesus. There are those that worry about him, and plot against him, but nothing’s too out in the open yet. Jesus knows he is going to die, but it seems that others haven’t been on board with his predictions. From this scene, it’s unimaginable that Jesus would be condemned and murdered in a matter of days.
When things aren’t hard, it’s the easiest time for us to let Jesus in. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard this idea in sermons since I started going to church in junior high. And here I am, two decades later, and I’m getting angry at this story. I’m angry because it reminds me that I still put conditions on my connection to Jesus. I know that when things get hard, I’ll feel like Jesus broke his part of the deal. That I can and have turned my back on him just as decisively as I have cheered on his entry to Jerusalem.
What keeps us from turning toward Jesus when things get hard? How might we recognize this betrayal of Jesus as a betrayal of ourselves?
Christ is present in the hardest moments, just as Christ was present at this celebration. It is our work to be present to Christ in both.
This week is Holy Week. This joyful and triumphant entry into Jerusalem is headed toward a violent end. While we may not be able to feel the joy and celebration that is described in our passage from today, perhaps we can still be aware of our posture toward Jesus.
This week, imagine staying by Jesus as he walks to his death. Read Mark 15:21-47. Be reminded that when we experience darkness, we are not abandoned by Christ. Offer that to Jesus.
Notice any discomfort. Notice the moment you want to disengage, turn away, leave. It’s hard to sit with suffering. But remember that Christ does it for us.
Stay
Britney Yount