Which Parade?

April 14, 2019

I’ve often wondered about all the hoopla around Palm Sunday. Jesus’ riding into Jerusalem those many years ago was so significant that it earned mention in all four gospels, something which cannot be said about much of what he did. Even his birth only made the cut in two of the four.

I cannot claim to be an expert on the subject, but I think I have at least part of it figured out. We know the Middle East was a hotbed of tension and violence then as it is now. Jerusalem was almost the epicenter of it all. Rome ruled, but these Jews were unruly people, and uprisings were always a possibility. Peace for the area was as fleeting then as it is today. At best, Rome was able to maintain a tenuous and sporadic truce through brute show of force. 

Passover, that most sacred festival of the Jews, was drawing near. It celebrated God’s miraculous killing of the firstborn of Egypt which precipitated their ancestors throwing off the yoke of bondage to seek freedom in the Promised Land. Scholars tell us that Jerusalem’s population swelled to more than triple its normal size during Passover, which in itself would be a challenge to keep orderly. These Jews were a rebellious lot, and if thousands of them milling around  weren’t enough, the celebration of freedom, wrapped in religious overtones, could ignite like a match to dry tinder. There is no frenzy quite like religious frenzy. 

Historians of the day tell us that as pilgrims came into Jerusalem, Rome flexed its muscle, sending troops and mounted cavalry marching into the city in a show of force. They would have come from the western port of Caesarea, spears glinting in the sunlight, soldiers with their shields clattering in formation, the golden eagles’ crest on banner-draped staffs. It was an impressive show as they marched to the fortress Antonia, the highest point in the city, directly overlooking the temple precincts. Rome ruled, and made sure everyone knew it. Rome promised stability and prosperity. But it came at a price: absolute submission. They would brook no rival authority. Resistance would be met with raw, ruthless power.

Meanwhile, streaming from the Mount of Olives on the eastern side of the city, another parade was forming up. By comparison, it was pretty pathetic, a rag-tag bunch of peasants. There were no costly banners, only palm fronds stripped from the roadside trees, no red carpet rolled out, only patched and threadbare coats of the poor thrown before this itinerant Preacher who rode, not a war horse, but a donkey. It was a pretty stark contrast, and in spite of three years’ preaching and teaching, the crowds that greeted him that first Palm Sunday missed the point altogether.

He was riding a donkey, the Jewish royal beast ridden in time of peace, not of war. The people were hoping for a deliverer like their ancestor Judas Maccabaeus, who two hundred years earlier had driven the hated Greeks from the city and cleansed the temple. People greeted him with palms, shouting “Hosanna”—God save! Maybe this Jesus would do the same to Rome as Judas did to Greece. When he did not, when he refused to cater to their expectations, it took less than a week for the shouts of Hosanna to turn to “Crucify him!” 

Failed expectations do strange things to us. We want to believe we would follow Jesus anywhere, pay any price, be faithful no matter what the cost. Until it’s our prayer that isn’t answered. Until it’s our child who sickens and dies. Until it’s our spouse who walks out. Until we are called on to forgive the unforgivable. Until it’s our pink slip, failing grade, heartache and disappointment. It’s easy to wave the palm branches on Sunday, and easier still to shout “Crucify him!” on Friday. Today is the day of profession; Friday is the day of demonstration. I am thankful for today, but am aware of the day coming when I have to choose in which parade I really march. Rome hangs people on crosses to enforce submission; only Jesus hung on a cross in our stead to earn our submission. Joshua said it centuries before: “Choose this day whom you will serve...”