This is inspired by research I did for the Palm Sunday children’s lesson last week. Knowing it would be a bit much for five-year-olds(!), I am sharing this with you. I was struck by what a physically, emotionally, and spiritually intense day Palm Sunday was and how we have simplified it to a fun little celebration of happy children waving branches. Although it is Good Friday and not Palm Sunday, all of what happened that Sunday set the stage for Holy Week. Here is an attempt to describe what that day might have been like.)
No technology was needed to spread the word that Jesus of Nazareth had raised a man from the depths of the dead, from three-days dead, from wrapped-up and closed-up dead. Lazarus himself constantly testified to the miracle merely by walking around and not being dead.
How could this not thrill all who heard? But religious leaders two miles away in Jerusalem were not happy to hear the astounding evidence that perhaps the long-awaited Messiah had come. They wanted their delicate equilibrium with the Paix Romana protecting their world and power to stay balanced. And so, in blind irony, they settled for a far lesser peace and longed to kill the one they had been longing for. Even Lazarus was on their hit list for having the nerve to be alive.
A few weeks later, Jesus was leaving Jericho early in the morning on the road to Jerusalem for the Passover, from beneath the depth of the sea to the heights of Mount Zion. As they left the city gates, the pilgrims were already starting the Psalms of Ascent, “I rejoiced with those who said to me, let us go to the house of the LORD,” when voices from the physically bind who could not travel to the house of the Lord called out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!” And he did. It was not long before two seeing blind men joined the procession and were delightedly bounding over rocky obstacles with no help to their first Passover in a very long time.
A hum, a buzz swirled around Jesus as he continued on his way. Didn’t the prophet Isaiah say that the Messiah would restore the eyes of the blind? And was raising the dead even on that list? Murmurs spread through the crowd. Was this the Messiah? Or someone even greater?
Grabbing some palm branches that they didn’t have way up in Jerusalem, the zealous wanted to be ready to hail this king and the victory he would surely bring. The disciples caught up in the hopeful expectation followed while pushing away ominous predictions Jesus had made from their minds. Recently transformed Zacchaeus joined the group, marveling at how lighthearted he felt no longer laden down by all his money. And Jesus in the midst of it all, heavy with the knowledge that this would be his last week on earth, placed one foot in front of the other up the steep ascent high above the canyon below.
Upon topping the ridge, the growing group of pilgrims descended the only way forward, into the canyon where water and rest could be found. But looking up at the looming cliffs providing the welcome shade, their eyes searched for bandits in the shadows. Better to stay together. “I lift up my eyes to the mountains. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth,” they reassured each other with one of the many psalms of travel protection not knowing they were in the presence of One to whom they sang.
Then they began the relentlessly uphill Roman road with the Mount of Olives visible in the distance, urging them on. For it was just beyond that mountain that Jerusalem lay. During rests, they caught their breath and poured it into song, “The LORD remembers us and will bless us: He will bless his people Israel!” As the heights grew, so too did the expectation of the Passover, of who Jesus might be, and of catching glimpse of this famous Lazarus.
Finally, after climbing more than 3000 feet in one day, Bethany came into view, sending ripples of revival through the exhausted travelers. Those in Bethany receiving wave after wave of pilgrims that day heard the news of Jesus’ approach and spilled out of town and down the hill to meet the most famous pilgrim of all, Jesus. The resurrector is visiting the resurrected! The hum of excitement rose as the two groups met on the slopes high above Jericho.
Greeting Lazarus, Jesus hugged the one who knew how it was to be dead and then alive again as those new to the scene gaped and pointed at the walking miracle. Mary and Martha quickly ushered Jesus and their brother into the family home and away from the pushing for a brief respite. Then came a curious set of instructions from Jesus for two of his disciples who were sent to go ahead to Bethpage to find a very specific colt.
On the way back with the little animal and its mother dutifully plodding along behind a while later, the hearts of the disciples raced. Was this the day they had been waiting for?
Back at the house, they arranged their cloaks on the colt’s dusty little self before Jesus mounted its until-now unused back. Instantly they were rejoined by those who had traveled with them since Jericho along with others they had gathered along the way and now residents of Bethany. The Jews dug deep into their past to remember the donkey being King David’s mount long before horses had entered the land. No one missed the symbolism that this descendent of David was using to announce he was the Messiah. Nationalists still holding their palm branches from Jericho smiled at the sight of a grown man on a humble little beast and mused about why Jesus hadn’t upgraded to a victory horse considering what he was about to do. The worshipers with money in their pockets to buy a perfect lamb knew that it was only unused animals that were used for religious purposes.
And they all set off for the final push up the mountain - onward, upward, until the crowd collected even more people and spilled over the crest of the Mount of Olives. There it was, Jerusalem, at long last, sparkling in the golden glow of the late afternoon. Just as the excitement of the people was ready to burst, Jesus stopped.
And wept.
Why? The disciples wondered. He’s only done that once before. When he was faced with death. Why? The impatient crowd throbbed around Jesus; doesn’t he know we’re celebrating him?
“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! Behold, your house,” he said as he gazed down into the chaotic temple courts, “is forsaken. And I tell you, you will not see me until you say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!’”
It was spoken with the heart of a father and with the tears of a mother reaching out, desperately trying to protect her chicks as they run away from her headlong into danger.
The crowd waited; hushed, murmuring, pulsing. A few restless ones ran ahead in the pause to spread the word that Jesus was coming.
Then Jesus lifted his head, nodded to the disciples, and faced Jerusalem. He was ready.
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” exploded the crowd as the colt began to move again.
Down into the Kidron valley they went, gathering momentum, meeting the crowds now pouring out of the gate of Jerusalem to meet Jesus. Out came the curious, the healed, those who longed to be healed, the suspicious, the religious, the jealous, the hopeful, the powerful, the lowly.
The dense convergence of crowds parted for the little beast and the humble king as they grabbed whatever branches they could find, the cloaks off their backs, and palm branches – and hurriedly laid them on the road before Jesus. With elated joy and hope, they proclaimed,
“Hosanna – Save us!”
. . . from the Romans, they called to the One who would save them not from the Romans, but from the burden of their endless rules and ultimately from their sins.
“Hosanna to the Son of David!”
They did not know he was both the descendent and the Lord of David.
“Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David!”
Their words dripping with Messianic expectation, they called out to the One who would
establish his kingdom not on earth, but in their hearts.
“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”
The religious leaders cringed. Eyeing the Roman soldiers, they wondered if that insurrectionist cry had been heard. Their equilibrium was tipping.
“Blessed is the king of Israel!”
This was no ordinary king. This was the King of kings who would reign forever.
“Hosanna in the highest heaven! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”
Shouted a few old shepherds from Bethlehem leaning on their staffs with twinkling eyes.
The crowd surged into the holy city, propelling the one they praised straight into the temple courts. The boisterous mass joined the clamor of opportunist merchants inside the temple walls. And Jesus stopped. As he observed the scene, a temple rabbi caught a glimpse of his distraught face and was taken back to a profound day years ago when a young boy had taught him more than he had ever learned. What was that he had said? Something about his father’s house? He couldn’t think above the noise.
The sun lowered in the sky and the people dispersed, headed to their shelter for the night, stirred with the news of the day and sharing it with anyone and everyone who might listen. Jesus and his disciples turned along with them out the gates of Jerusalem back to Bethany as the sun set behind them casting lengthening shadows into which they walked while marveling at the events of the day.
Warm light and aromas of the evening meal met the weary, famished, but elated disciples as they rushed inside to tell the sisters news of the day.
Before entering the house bursting with resurrection life where he would not only eat, but be anointed for what lay ahead, Jesus turned around to the horizon and watched until the darkness swallowed the last glimpse of light.