St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD
March 24, 2024
Year B: The Sunday of the Passion – Palm Sunday
Mark 11:1-11
Isaiah 50:4-9a
Psalm 31:9-16
Philippians 2:5-11
Mark 15:1-39
Life and Love, Shared With Us
Today is the most unsettling day of the Christian Year.
On this day, we begin with what’s usually called Jesus’ “triumphant” entry into Jerusalem.
At last, the long-awaited King has entered his capital city!
And at first glance, his entry does seem triumphant.
There are crowds along the way, laying their cloaks and their palms before the King.
They shout “Hosanna!” which means “Lord, save us!”
“Lord, save us!”
They shout “Hosanna!” because at least some of them think that, finally, God has sent a King like David, a military leader who will expel the Roman occupiers and restore Israel’s independence, renew its glory.
At first glance, the entry of King Jesus into Jerusalem does indeed seem triumphant.
But perhaps careful observers noticed that this might not be such a triumphant entry after all.
Where was the military escort?
Where were the dignitaries gathered to welcome the King, to pay him homage?
And why was this King riding a donkey?
I mean, every other new King – most every other new leader, even today – is all about gathering and accumulating – gathering supporters, followers, power –accumulating money, weapons, loyalty – gathering and accumulating as many and as much as possible to intimidate opponents and cement dominance.
But this King Jesus does just the opposite.
This King is just the opposite.
Oh, it’s true, he attracted some followers – an unimpressive group overall, and most will run away from him at the first sign of trouble.
No, as King Jesus enters his capital city, he’s not set on gathering and accumulating – he’s there to love and to serve, to give himself away.
Emptying himself.
It was just before Passover, so Jerusalem was teeming with pilgrims, its population probably swelled by around three times its normal size.
It was a festive time and it was also a tense time.
The Roman occupiers were on the lookout for any signs of protest or rebellion – any hint of trouble that they would swiftly crush with brutality and efficiency, with nails and wood.
And the Jewish leaders were desperate to keep the peace, to prevent anyone from sparking a devastating conflict with the Romans.
So, even without a military escort, and even with the donkey, powerful people were probably aware that some people were hailing a teacher and healer from Nazareth of all places as King of Israel.
And so, soon enough, the machinery of the state swung into action, sealing the fate of King Jesus.
The people, as always, wanted to back a winner and, well, Jesus must have looked like the biggest loser in town.
So the emptying of Jesus continued – no more palm-waving crowds, few if any followers or friends, expectation and excitement replaced by rejection and mockery.
And a final emptying on the Cross – the emptying of blood, and life, and even, it would seem, the emptying of hope.
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Emptying himself.
On this unsettling day we remember an unsettling time in Jerusalem, two thousand years ago.
What began full of hope and promise – what began with palms and hosannas, ends with suffering, disappointment, and death.
Emptiness.
Or, so it seemed.
If Jesus is who we say he is, then back in Jerusalem two thousand years ago, God personally experienced rejection and pain and even death – emptiness.
But, at the same time, God is never empty.
God is always full of life and love.
Sometimes – often - it feels like winter will last forever.
Like death gets the last word.
Like all hope is lost.
But it’s not true.
Spring arrives.
God is never empty.
God is always full of life and love.
Later, later, the first Christians saw this, they understood this – they even sang about Christ Jesus, this King who loved and served, who emptied himself – emptied himself on the Cross – this King who was gloriously replenished – exalted - by God on the third day.
But that’s for next week.
For now, we remain at the foot of the Cross.
And on this most unsettling day in our most unsettling world, we may be feeling quite empty.
But just wait.
Because:
God is never empty.
God is always full of life and love.
Life and love, shared with and through Jesus.
Life and love, shared with us.
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