Your Hearts and not your Garments: Palm Sunday

Processional: Mark 11:1-10

Gospel: Mark 14:1-15:47

By: Evan

 

Coptic Ikon of the Triumphal Entry

There is a bitter-sweetness which comes to mind each time we read of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem. At the start, the soul of the Christian is jubilant. Here is our Lord, cloaks spread before him, the branches of the earth caressing the ground. We might hear in our hearts the roar of that crowd. I find myself thinking at last! Here is the recognition which our Lord, our God deserves. Perhaps there is even the not altogether sweet feeling which comes with that. “At least I would have enough sense to be with that crowd, shouting the praise of Jesus, and not with the Pharisees.” The more we meditate, the more we feel that delicious, righteous, ecstasy. The stones would cry out, indeed. This scene is a momentary reprieve.

                 And yet, we also know better than to get fully lost in the moment of celebration. We know what comes next. Even a first time reader of the bible has had enough foreshadowing piled on to know that Jesus isn’t walking out in the same fashion he came in. We might even have the good sense to wonder at the fact that the same voices which say “hosanna” on Sunday will say “crucify” on Friday. If we listen close enough, with those ears of our spirit, we might even hear our own voices mixed in with the general roar. “Not I! I wouldn’t forsake the Lord.” (Luke 22:33) We could say. So did Peter. There is no escaping our own place in a broken humanity.

                 The apostles in general came with all the hope of princes. Some of them were even arranging the new court in their heads, once Jesus was in control. (Mark 10:37-40) After all, Jesus was coming in royal fashion, checking off the prophetic boxes, on a wave of the people’s favor, and seeming more and more like the harbinger of a perfect world. How could something so small as the religious leaders and so far away as Rome hope to compare with what was coming up the street that day? If that thought crossed their minds, they would’ve been at least half right. But it seems to me they were yet to see that Jesus loved even those who hated him, and even those who were different; as different as the Romans. 

                Judas was walking up that day. He was an honored man, considered one of the twelve. I have to wonder what was going through his mind as the great betrayer met with the adulation and honor of the faithful. Sometimes sin surprises us all at once, like a sudden heat lightning on a Saturday night; but Judas’ break was a slow burn. (Luke 22:3, John 6:70-71, 12:6) I can see him walking through the crowd, on one hand enjoying the praise, on the other knowing he was putting on his own show. Maybe he was ashamed of the hypocrisy; or maybe he was secretly smug about the mask he’d made to fool the crowd.

Giotto: Judas's Betrayal

                And there was John there, hanging on every word the Lord said like a long-suffering lover. For John there was probably the fierce pride that comes when you love someone who’s finally getting their due. No more rough nights out in the wilds. No more long walks about. They were home, it seemed. I like to think of Saint John as an old man near death, remembering that walk up to Jerusalem. I like to think that a lifetime of faithful service to God showed the saint that Jesus’ ride was just a foretaste of our final walk home.

                Holy Week juxtaposes the entire spectrum of our soul. From the heights of joy, the depths of sorrow, fear, comfort, trust, ritual, fellowship, food. This is the body of God, working in brokenness. This week, we must practice listening, feeling, tasting, and being well within the turns of the story. For now, there is a celebration and honor so great, strangers given up the colts and coats. Be in joy, my brothers and sisters. Lay not only palm fronds, but your hearts to be before our God. (Joel 2:13)