Mark 11:1-11 (Mark 14:1-11)
March 24, 2024
As
many times as I have heard the story of Palm Sunday, as many times as I have
read the story in the gospels, and as many times as I have preached on this
particular Sunday, I have never considered the meaning of a Triumph. The
“triumphal procession” of Jesus into Jerusalem at the beginning of what we now
know as Holy Week was merely a description in my mind. Jesus would process into
Jerusalem, and even though his death won’t seem like a triumph to anyone who
witnessed it, it would be because he would be resurrected. And in Jesus’
resurrection, he would have ultimate victory over death. A triumph! But a
Triumph has an historical meaning that I knew nothing about until this past
week. So, I thank my friend and colleague, Blake Hawthorne, for giving me some
historical background on a Triumph.
In
the Roman empire a Triumph was much more than a victory parade into the city.
When a Roman military leader decisively conquered an enemy in battle, the
Senate could approve a Triumph. This was more than just the town council
approving a tickertape parade. A triumph was a spectacle that could last
several days. The conquering hero must be heralded by his soldiers. He would be
dressed in purple and gold, royal colors. He would process into the city and
finally to the temple in a chariot. He would wear a laurel wreath. The
procession would include slaves taken from the fallen enemy, sometimes the
conquered king, war riches, etc. There would be speeches and feasts and it was
a big deal. But to qualify for a triumph, the conquest had to be mighty. More
than 5,000 enemies must have been killed. And the enemy must have been a
difficult one to overcome. If that qualification was not met, then it might be
considered an Ovation rather than a Triumph. An Ovation, as I understand it
from the account I read online, involved the killing of less than 5,000 people
or the defeat of enemies that were not considered honorable like pirates. If a
conqueror received an Ovation, he road into the city on a horse, and the
celebration was more subdued.
With
this newly acquired history in mind, I began to look at Jesus’s triumphal entry
in a new way. If the Roman Triumph was the standard for a conqueror to enter a
city, then Jesus’ entry seems as far from a Triumph as possible. If I’m being
honest, Mark’s telling is rather anti-climactic. Jesus and the disciples were
approaching Jerusalem, and they were at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount
of Olives. Jesus sent two of the disciples ahead of him into the village. He
told them that the minute they entered the village they would find an unridden
colt tied there. They were to untie that colt and bring it back to Jesus. Jesus
warned them that if anyone should ask why they were taking the colt, they were
to respond, “The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.”
The
disciples did what Jesus told them to do. They were questioned just as Jesus
told them they might be. They responded the way they were instructed to, and
they brought the colt back to Jesus. They threw their cloaks across the back of
the colt, and Jesus rode it into Jerusalem. It is true that people gathered to
welcome him into the city. They cut leafy branches and spread their own cloaks
on the ground before him. People encircled him, before and behind, shouting,
“Hosanna!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming
kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
This
sounds like a sort-of spectacle. Although, as triumphs go, it was still not
even close to the triumph a conquering Roman would have experienced. But there
were no speeches. There were no feasts. Once the procession is over, Jesus
doesn’t do anything that you might expect him to do. He performs no miracles or
healings. He doesn’t offer his followers even a rousing sermon. Instead, he
goes to the temple, looks around at everything, realizes it is late, and goes
back to Bethany for the night. Jesus does not even stay in the city. He returns
the way he came. Anticlimactic is an understatement.
Mark
puts a great deal more emphasis on the telling of how the disciples managed to
get the colt than he does on Jesus’ actual entry into Jerusalem. The procession
seems more like an afterthought than a plan. Although Jesus does seem to have
clairvoyance about the challenge that might be involved in getting that colt,
and I suspect that Jesus also knew that the people who heralded his advent into
Jerusalem would have seen the grand arrival of others before him.. The people,
who whether they knew of imperial triumphs or not, would have witnessed grand
parades and processions of important figures riding into the city in chariots
or on a mighty steed.
Writer
and theologian, Debie Thomas, described two processionals that happened that
day. One came from the west, and it was a full-blown royally regaled romp,
dripping with both pomp and circumstance. This parade answers the question, why
was Pontius Pilate in Jerusalem at the same time as Jesus? Pilate did not
normally reside in that city. Pilate was in Jerusalem because of Passover.
Passover was a Jewish festival that remembered, celebrated, and elevated the
miraculous and divine exodus of the Israelites from Egyptian slavery and
oppression. If ever there was a festival that could get folks riled up at the
occupying Romans, it was Passover.
Pilate
surely processed into Jerusalem with all the might and majesty he could muster.
His processions must have been a vivid reminder of what the people would face
if they tried to rebel or riot. Let the people see the splendor and the
strength of the Roman empire on full display. It might not have been an actual
Roman Triumph, but it would have gotten the message across all the same.
But
from the East came another procession, another parade. In the light of a Roman
Triumph, this parade was nothing. It would have been considered laughable by
the Roman leadership – although the Jewish religious leaders were certainly not
laughing. While Pilate may have been heralded with trumpets, Jesus was heralded
with Hosannas. When I was a kid I thought that Hosanna was an old-fashioned way
of yelling, “Hip, hip hurray!” But it means, “Save us. Save us now.”
And
for a minute, the people thought that their salvation had come. But what kind
of triumph ends with crucifixion? What kind of triumph ends with death and the
defeat of all their hopes and dreams?
You
see, that’s the challenge of this day. Growing up in another denomination, we
always observed both Palm Sunday and Easter. But we never observed Holy Week.
And that’s what this day marks – the beginning of the Holiest and hardest weeks
in our church calendar. We begin the week on a day of procession and
celebration and hopes and dreams, with hosannas and maybe a hallelujah thrown
in for good measure. But in this week Jesus will be betrayed and denied. The
hosannas will fade and the shouts to “crucify him, crucify him” will rise. He
will be tried, convicted, and executed for sedition and incitement. He will
require anointment for burial before he dies, because it will not be allowed
upon his actual death.
What
kind of triumph is this? Unlike a Roman conqueror, Jesus conquered no one. He
killed no one. He enslaved no one. He stole the riches of no one. Instead he
healed, he set free, he made all things new. Still, this week ends with the
cross.
What
kind of triumph is this? We know that Easter will come, that resurrection will
once more make the world new. But we cannot skip this week. We cannot jump from
procession to resurrection. We must walk through the valley of death before we
can climb the hill of new life.
So, on this Palm Sunday, let us
remember that it is also Passion Sunday and that we are beginning the holiest
of weeks and the hardest of weeks because the powers and principalities still
try to extinguish the Light of the World. We still think that Triumph comes
from conquering and subduing and defeating. But what this week will teach us,
if we allow it to, is that the real triumph comes from Love and Love alone. So,
even as we walk into this week of growing darkness, we also walk into it hope,
trusting that the Light still shines and that God is still making all things
new.
Let all of God’s children say,
“Amen.”
Amen.
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