The scripture heading in my Bible labels this story, “Jesus’ Triumphal Entry.” That heading appears in big, bold print. Like all headings, it announces what is to come. You see that heading, and you know that you’re about to read about Jesus’ Triumphal Entry, because that’s what it says.
And we’ve heard Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem described this way so many times, it’s hard to get it out of our heads. Even Wikipedia says that Palm Sunday “commemorates Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem.”
So, before we even start reading the actual text, we have in our minds that this is a triumphal entry.
And the word triumphal means “celebrating a triumph,” or, “celebrating a victory.” When your sports team wins the championship, and you have a parade in their honor, that is a triumphal procession.
When we read our Bibles and we see that heading, we get in our minds that Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem is a procession celebrating a triumph.
You should know, however, that headings like this were put into the Bible by modern editors. They are not part of the original text. They were added in, to break up the text, to make it easier to read.
In fact, there are some modern translations that don’t have these added headings. The books of the Bible are not divided up into short sections, each with its own heading or title, because that’s how the Bible was originally written.
It is helpful, therefore, to sometimes read the scripture, and ignore those headings that the editors put in; because maybe what those editors say that scripture is all about, isn’t really what that scripture is all about.
It might especially be important to do this when that heading—that brief description—has influenced what we think of a passage, and how we interpret that passage…
If we can set aside, for a moment, the description of this event as a “triumphal procession,” what do we get? What do we read? What do we hear?
One thing we hear in today’s scripture is that the disciples brought to Jesus a donkey and a colt. They put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them.
And now… I have questions. A donkey AND a colt?
Now, if you already have it in your mind that this is a triumphal procession, then you’re going to try to make sense of this in a way that reinforces and supports the idea that this procession was triumphal.
In your mind, you’re going to try to picture Jesus riding on top of a donkey and a colt in a way that is worthy of the triumphant ruler we imagine him to be.
So, do that: picture a donkey, and a colt. Picture them. Picture their faces, their legs, their tails. Hear the sounds they make.
And now, imagine Jesus, somehow riding both of them at the same time.
I don’t know about you, but I always tried so hard to picture Jesus looking dignified, glorious, regal…
But, eventually, I realized, you just can’t.
How does one sit, exactly, when riding two animals at the same time? Especially when those animals are a donkey and a colt. Have you ever seen a donkey? Have you ever heard a donkey?
A triumphal entry would involve a mighty steed, a great warhorse, big, strong, powerful. And maybe there would be two of them, but the rider wouldn’t be riding the horses; he’d be riding in a chariot that those horses were pulling; a chariot decorated in gold, and adorned with purple cloths.
And the person being honored by this triumphal procession would be a mighty figure returning from some great victory.
But in this case, it wasn’t a mighty victory that Jesus was returning from. In fact, if we look back in scripture to what happened just before he enters Jerusalem, we find that Jesus had taken his disciples aside and said to them, “Look. I’m going to be handed over to the authorities, to be mocked and flogged and crucified.”
Is that something that makes you say, “Great! Let’s have a parade!” (?)
So, everything about this procession seems a little bit off.
How on earth did we ever come to think of this as triumphal?
By the way, there was someone who regularly did process into Jerusalem in a chariot pulled by a mighty warhorse. Herod.
Some scholars even say that Herod was arriving into Jerusalem from one side of town on the exact same day—and maybe even the exact same hour—that Jesus was arriving into Jerusalem from the other side of town.
And when Herod arrived, not only did he arrive in a chariot pulled by a mighty warhorse; he also had his armies line the roads, standing at attention, their armor gleaming in the sun, with their spears raised high in salute.
Now that’s a triumphal procession!
But when Jesus arrived, riding his donkey and his colt, it was commoners—artisans and peasants and other riff raff—who lined the streets. They didn’t have any spears to raise. All they could find to raise in salute were branches they had cut from the trees.
No, triumphal is not the word I would use to describe this. The word I would use is awkward.
Things got even more awkward after that.
After he entered Jerusalem, Jesus went to the temple, where he overturned the tables of the moneychangers and the seats of those who sold doves.
And after that, the scripture says, a crowd of “blind and lame” people gathered around him.
Herod had his army: an army of mighty soldiers. Now, Jesus was gathering his own army: an army of the blind and lame.
Now, there’s nothing wrong with being blind or lame. People who are blind, or lame, or who have any other type of disability: God’s image dwells in them just as fully as it does in anyone else.
But that’s not how people in ancient times saw things. They viewed people with disabilities as inherently inferior people, and the fact that these are the people Jesus gathered around him—well, it was rather awkward.
Yet, somehow, people still thought he was going to be the leader of a new kingdom, the kingdom of God.
A few days later, on Passover, Jesus gathered with his disciples to celebrate the Passover meal. Formal banquets followed a set pattern, and this meal with his disciples was no exception—until he took the bread and said, “This is my body,” and when he took the cup and said, “this is my blood.”
Well, that’s awkward. I must confess, sometimes it still seems a little awkward when we say those words in worship every Sunday.
Then Jesus said to his disciples: “You all are going to desert me. You’re all going to abandon me.”
They insisted they would never abandon him. He was their leader, their rabbi, their messiah, their king!
Then he started washing their feet, doing a task normally reserved for servants or slaves. Imagine some idol of yours, someone you admire, someone whose very presence awes you—serving you in such a way!
It made the disciples feel very awkward.
We have had foot washings here at BKCC in the past, some years, when we celebrate Maundy Thursday. And, yes, if you’ve never done it, it’s every bit as awkward as you’d imagine.
Then, after that was all over, Jesus and his disciples went outside to a garden. Jesus prayed; oh, how intensely he prayed!
Then soldiers arrived, led by Judas, one of the disciples. Judas had betrayed Jesus and led the soldiers to the garden; and the soldiers arrested Jesus.
Suddenly, according to the synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke), one of Jesus’ disciples put his hand on his sword, drew it, and struck the slave of the high priest, cutting off his ear. John’s gospel identifies this disciple as Peter. But Jesus stopped him. Jesus said to him, “Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword.”
And that was awkward; no kingdom had ever been built without the might of spears and swords.
And, after that, all the disciples fled and deserted Jesus; and Jesus was taken away. He was flogged, given a trial, and sentenced to death. The soldiers then stripped him of his clothes, nailed him to a cross, and crucified him.
This is the most awkward part of all. Their leader, their rabbi, their messiah, their king, stripped of what little glory he had, humiliated, and executed.
This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. At least, it wasn’t how anyone imagined it was going to happen… It certainly wasn’t what any of them wanted to happen.
And, looking back, it seemed like everything leading up to this had been all wrong. More than awkward, it was a catastrophic defeat.
From the donkey to the branches to the unarmed army of the lame and the blind, to the arrest and the betrayal and the humiliation, and ultimately, the disgraceful, cursed, execution on a cross—it is all so shameful.
And as tragic as the death of their friend, their leader, their teacher was, this was more than that. It was the death of their dream, their hope, that a new world was coming, a new kingdom in which God’s righteousness and justice would characterize life, instead of Rome’s oppression and humiliation.
All of that died on the cross, with Jesus.
Or, so it seemed.
But God was not done yet.
There were two different hopes, two different dreams, two different visions for the world; but only one was aligned with God. Only one vision for the world had God’s favor.
And (spoiler alert) when you have God’s favor, nothing can defeat you.
Which means that, no matter how defeated you feel, no matter how humiliated, no matter how much the world has torn you apart and beat you down, no matter how oppressed you are, no matter how much despair and tragedy are in the world…
There is a victory yet to come. There is a victory yet to come for all those who live in love, who long for truth, who desire peace in their lives and in the lives of all people - yes, ALL people, people from every nation, every continent; people of every race and every religion; people of every gender and sexuality; people who are young and old, and rich and poor…
There is a victory yet to come for all the blind and lame, for all those who are not accommodated, all those who are excluded and made to feel second class…
There is a victory yet to come.
Because no matter how much death seems to have a grip on this world, LIFE will ultimately prevail.
And everything that seemed so AWKWARD, and everything that seemed so HUMILIATING, and everything that seemed so laughably absurd, and everything that seemed so catastrophic,
Will be turned upside down. The first will be last, the least will be greatest.
The blind and the lame and the meek will inherit the earth.
And the one who rode into Jerusalem on a donkey (or, on a donkey AND a colt), who was greeted by crowds of the lame and the blind raising tree branches instead of spears, and who died on the cross,
…will rise again on Easter Sunday, and then, the world will see God’s kingdom prevail; then, the world will know that life and love will be with God’s people forever and ever; then, the world will realize that what happened on Palm Sunday, and in the week that followed, truly was the greatest triumph of all.
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