We have begun this day by inviting Jesus into our city and welcoming Him into our lives. Now, when we welcome Jesus as a messenger of peace we customarily acclaim, “Come, o come, please enter Lord, and establish peace in our midst”; and when we greet Jesus as a prophet promising a new beginning, we often are so pleased to know that the future is in His hands. But when Jesus comes as the one who challenges our limited boundaries, unpacking our carefully boxed assumptions, and stretching our horizons to the breaking point, watch out! Jesus is the One who shakes us like an earthquake. Matthew’s Gospel reports that when Jesus entered Jerusalem on that first Palm Sunday, the whole city was in physical turmoil, reeling on its very foundations. Watch out, for the happy waving of palms and the spontaneous shouts of joy, will soon become cries of scorn and demands of death.
You see, the Jesus who is acclaimed and applauded outside the walls of our lives is not the real Jesus who comes to enter our world. We want Jesus to be our servant, to meet our needs, and to fulfill our own agendas. Jesus is to be a way for us to succeed, get ahead, and acquire our hearts’ desires. Yet friend and foe alike soon learn that Jesus completely overturns all these natural expectations.
This Sunday is truly the Sunday of all paradox, the Sunday of all irony. It is one of acclaim and humiliation, of hope and despair, of trust and betrayal, of peace and violence, of life and death. Is the donkey on which Jesus enters Jerusalem, a beast symbolizing reconciliation and justice to all people and a sign of forgiveness, or is the donkey the bearer of the triumphant and victorious king over all enemies, and the future imperial ruler over all nations? When Jesus went to the temple and overturned the tables of those making money on the selling of sacrificial animals, was it understood as a sign of God’s cleansing and redemptive action among humanity or as a chaotic outburst of a solitary madman? When Jesus warned the officials of their pompousness and hypocrisy, spoke of the destruction of the temple itself and the transitory nature of all worldly institutions, and predicted the suddenness of God’s grace breaking into human reality, changing and healing all relationships in its wake, was it taken as a new birth of possibilities or as a threat to one’s own the status quo?
The Hosannas and palm branches of the expectant crowd become the curses of a mob and the ashes of bloodthirsty anger. The last supper with his disciples was the ancient celebration of liberation from the powers of slavery, the passover of the angel of death and the celebration of a new life. It became transformed ever after in the sharing of the bread and wine into the giving of Jesus’ very self. The washing of the disciples’ feet became a different way of exercising leadership and authority. The final sign in this great drama of paradox came the next day in the lifting up of Jesus on the shame and helplessness of cross.
We read the story, over and over again, year after year, on this Sunday to remind us that first of all, that it is a story about us. Does human tragedy become a sign of God’s absence or a sign of God’s compassion and faithfulness no matter what happens to us or where life leads us? Do the pressing cries of the hungry and exploited become a sign of God’s callousness or the urgent call for us to remember they are our sisters and brothers who cry out to us?
The Passion is by no means the end of the story, but it is where we must work through the many levels of paradox. It will not be compressed into one-dimensional sound bytes or simple abbreviated text messages. For it is only through the deep paradox of the passion that Easter morning is more than just another day when terrible things happen all over again; the empty tomb more than a sign of utter abandonment, and the cross more than an historical instrument of brutal torture.
Yes indeed, watch out! For Jesus is shaking our foundations, and if we are not shaken and stirred today, we have not yet encountered the real Jesus who calls to enter through the gates of our city straight into our hearts.
