“The Lord of Holy Week”

Matthew 27:11-54

Jesus’ journey is taking him closer and closer to the cross. In a sense, of course, his whole life has been taken along that path. As Helmut Thielicke says, “the manger and the cross are of the same wood.” According to Luke, the crowds sing the same “Alleluias” to Jesus, as he enters Jerusalem, that the angels sang at his birth. Though he is greeted with hallelujahs now, he who was born in a stable in Bethlehem, outside the fringes of polite society, is about to finish his course on a garbage dump outside the gates of Jerusalem.

As he begins his last week, there is a new earnestness – the last chapter of his journey is about to be written, and all the actors have come to the front of the stage: the religious leadership which has opposed him, the political powers who do not recognize his Lordship, the people – who mostly want other things from him than that which he came to give, and the disciples, wary and uncertain. There is a sense of excitement as Jesus approaches Jerusalem, an awareness that something profound is about to take place. Jesus heightens this sense by fulfilling an age-old prophecy, riding down from the Mount of Olives, and up through the Eastern Gate, toward the temple, on a donkey – the sign of the peaceful rule of the long-awaited Messiah.

The last mile is filled with signs of promise. The crowds are jubilant, strewing palm branches in his way – the symbol of national unity and pride. Their numbers swollen by those who have come for the Passover feast, they rush out to greet him. Some are so excited, they throw their garments on the ground, in lieu of a red carpet. The disciples, anxious at first, find their anxiety dispelled by the cheering crowds, their hopes buoyed by the enthusiastic greeting. They join in the delirium of the crowd.

Five days later, Jesus is on the cross, and the disciples are in hiding. What went wrong? Did Jesus blow it? Did he overstep himself? What happened to the palms and cheering masses? What happened between Palm Sunday and Good Friday?

On Palm Sunday, it seemed no one could stop Jesus. It seemed that God’s power was present and apparent that day. Jesus seemed to be in control. The disciples were elated. The religious leaders couldn’t stop Jesus – they couldn’t even slow him down. Every trap they set for him, he escaped unharmed – and they trapped themselves instead. The people were getting to enjoy their buffoonery. As the crowds thronged about him, cheering and screaming, their leaders kept telling him, “You’d better cool down the crowds a bit. You don’t want Pilate to get the wrong idea. Press it too hard and we’ll all be in a stew! Take it easy. Be reasonable. Don’t raise a fuss, or someone will take notice.” But Jesus replies, “Don’t you understand even yet? Don’t you know if these people were kept quiet, the very stones would shout!” And there are a lot of stones around Jerusalem! The religious leadership writes him off as a dangerous cuckoo. But there is no stopping Jesus on Palm Sunday. On Palm Sunday, Jesus declares his lordship, and no one can silence him!

In a sense, looking back, his declaration is premature. Jesus stakes out his claim, putting sin and death on notice. He throws down the gauntlet, and it won’t go unchallenged. There is much at stake here. There is still Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday, and Holy Saturday to go yet, before Easter Sunday arrives, and the battle is finally over. Sometimes it’s a long time between Palm Sunday and Easter.

And sometimes, waiting in hope, we, too, get Palm Sunday, with its apparent easy victory, confused with Easter. Sometimes we want to jump the gun. We think the battle’s over, when the battle has not yet been fully engaged. Paul, writing to the Thessalonians, warns us: “I would not have you ignorant, brethren, about those who are asleep.” Christ has not returned in glory yet. The gauntlet has been thrown down. The challenge has been made. Christ has proclaimed the victory, and demanded his rightful throne. But death still takes its toll. We are still engaged in the battle with the principalities and powers of this world. On Palm Sunday, Jesus declares his kingship; he declares war on those powers which would usurp his lordship. But a declaration of war is not the same as the truce of victory. First, the battle must be fought and won.

We run into that problem all the time, don’t we? We would prefer easy victories. We’d like to think it’s enough to declare the victory without engaging in the battle. We think we can have the crown of glory without the cross of suffering. That’s why so many like the “health and wealth” gospels preached by so many of the televangelists. If we live good lives, we think we shouldn’t have to suffer. If we believe, we shouldn’t have to deal with temptation. If we have faith, everything should come easy to us. We don’t think bad things should happen to good people – even though the best of all was crucified. We think religion should be a bed of roses and, when it’s often more like a bed of hot coals – we find that church members are just like anyone else, we find the bills are just as hard to pay, we find our life doesn’t go as we had hoped, we find that tragedy strikes us, just like anyone else – so we wonder, “Didn’t we already declare the victory? Where, then, did all this come from?”

Today is Palm Sunday. Today, we also have received palm branches. Today, we also cheer our Savior on. But we need to be careful, today. We need to be reminded that Palm Sunday is not Easter. We throw down the gauntlet today – today we have gathered as Jesus’ people to put sin, death and the devil on notice, to let them know that the Lord of Life is present among us. There are still many battles yet to be fought before the victory comes. We know the end is assured. But we still have to engage the battle. We must still walk with Jesus a while – through the long, dreary days of Holy Week – through the nameless days of Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday – days when nothing seems to be happening, days of preparation for our spirit, days of arming ourselves for the fight; we must also walk along the path of fellowship and know the betrayal of friends on Maundy Thursday; we must experience the agony of the cross on Good Friday, and even suffer the absence of our Jesus’ presence on Holy Saturday, before we come to Easter Sunday. We must engage the principalities and powers of this world, the forces of darkness and despair, and all the powers of death and the devil. We must unite our cause with Christ’s, we must join him with a solemn oath, in body and in blood, even in the agony and seeming failure of the cross. Especially then, when it seems like everything is gone awry, when it seems that the power of evil has overtaken us, especially then we must cling to him, and not give up hope. Sometimes it can be a long time between Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday. If we leave go of him when the cheering dies down – if we’re only in it for the good times; if we figure we’ll come back when things get better – we’ll never make it to Easter.

To know Jesus only on Palm Sunday is to know Jesus only in part, because he is the Savior of the rest of Holy Week as well. He is not just the Lord of Good Times – he is also the Lord when things go bad. We need to cling to him, so we can make it through – all the way through – to Easter.