Mark 11:1-11 - The Palm Sunday Paradox - March 28 ,2021

You and I know this day as Palm Sunday. However, at various times in church history and in many churches today other Christians know this day as “Passion Sunday.” They intend the day to serve as a one-day summary of Holy Week. Palms were part of it, but they were only the introductory part – the service ends with Jesus’ death on the cross. Why? While I came across many reasons, one of the most obvious is that they didn’t believe that Christians would be willing to attend midweek services during Lent or come back to church on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday to hear the Passion history – so if the people were going to hear it, it had to be today. The Lutheran reformers, however, broke with this tradition. The reformers decided to give Palm Sunday it’s proper due – including the great contradictions this day presents: Jesus enters Jerusalem as a King – a King who comes to die. This is the Palm Sunday Paradox.

Jesus comes into Jerusalem as he never has before: in royal majesty, as a King. Did you catch the majesty in Mark’s words? Go into the village ahead of you. As soon as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, on which no one has ever sat. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ say, ‘The Lord needs it, and he will send it back here without delay. They left and found a colt on the street, tied at a door; and they untied it. Some who were standing there asked them, “What are you doing, untying that colt?” The disciples answered them just as Jesus had instructed them, and the men let them go. They brought the colt to Jesus, threw their garments on it, and Jesus sat on it. Majestic, isn’t it? Jesus commissions his disciples to depart on a curious mission – and they go. He requisitions a colt that belongs to someone else for his own use – and they allow it. And, not only do his disciples and the owners obey his Word, but even the colt does. I’ve never been involved in breaking a colt – or any animal for that matter – but I understand it’s no small feat to ride an unbroken colt. Yet this colt submits to its Creator.

We have no other record of Jesus riding anything, anywhere, at any time, except here. And as he rides into Jerusalem the majesty continues: Many people spread their garments on the road. Others spread branches that they had cut from the fields. People do many things to honor heads of state today, but I’ve never seen people ripping off their coats and throwing them on the ground so that the leader’s feet wouldn’t have to touch the dust of the road. I’ve never seen people run out into the fields to cut down branches to make a royal carpet. But that’s not all. They not only hail him as their King but as their Savior – hosanna means “save us.” And, perhaps the strangest part of all – Jesus accepts their acclamation and praise. Many times before he had told his followers to stay silent (Mark 1:44; 5:43; 7:36) and had even fled in order to avoid being anointed as King (John 6:15) – but today he silences no one and even tells his enemies that if the crowds were to remain silent, the stones would shout out (Luke 19:40). Finally, Jesus rides right up to the temple, goes into it, and looks around like he owns the place – because he does. What power, what royalty, what majesty!

After following Jesus for six weeks of Lent – with all of his talk of betrayal and suffering and death – it makes you wonder: “Who is this guy?” Where’s the Son of Man who has no place to lay his head (Luke 9:58)? Where’s the poor Jew who doesn’t have the money to pay the temple tax (Matthew 17:24-27)? Where’s the despised prophet the people of Nazareth tried to kill (Luke 4:14-30)? No doubt some of the people who were in these crowds – namely, Jesus’ own disciples – remembered these events from Jesus’ humble ministry – but apparently the pomp and circumstance of the moment pushed those memories right out of their minds. Jesus has finally made it – and this is the Jesus the people want. And, if we’re honest, this is the Jesus we often want. The people who follow this kind of Jesus wouldn’t ever get depressed, sick, worried or afraid. A Jesus who is so obviously the Lord of nature wouldn’t let natural disasters – or mutant viruses – harm his people. A Jesus who is universally hailed as King would certainly be able to fill the seats of churches around the world every week. Wouldn’t it be great if this glorious, majestic Jesus were the Jesus we have?

But then there’s the reality that our hymn wasn’t wrong when we sang “No tramp of soldier’s marching feet, with banners and with drums, no sound of music’s martial beat: “The King of glory comes!” (CWS 716:1) Yes, Jesus is King – but King of what? A colt, the foal of a donkey (Zechariah 9:9). While David put Solomon on a donkey to prove that Solomon was his rightful heir (1 Kings 1:33), he didn’t put him on a miserable little colt. Have you ever seen a full-grown man riding on a miniature horse? It’s ridiculous. The whole world knows that royal figures don’t ride on donkeys but on stallions or in chariots (or in limousines). Yet King Jesus rides into his capital on a small donkey.

Jesus may have come as a conquering King, but you don’t see the Jewish leaders or the Romans falling on their knees begging for mercy or running away in fear. Nor do you see sin, death, or the devil fleeing from his presence. In fact, they’re all here and they’re all licking their chops. At last the One whom God had said would crush their skulls (Genesis 3:15) has landed on their home-turf. He’s no longer preaching and teaching in outlying areas of Israel. He’s no longer using his divine power to foil their wicked plans. At last it’s their hour. There’s definitely something besides majesty on the scene here – something that we can relate to very well. Beyond the cheering crowds, the storm-clouds of death are gathering, the devil is prowling, and the suffocating weight of the sin and guilt of the world are looming for Jesus.

There’s something other than majesty at the temple, too. Yes, Jesus goes to the Temple like he owns the place – but he’s not going there to be crowned or enthroned. The crowds didn’t worship him as Immanuel… “God with us.” (Matthew 1:23). And he couldn’t even stay in the Temple. No, like the condemned criminal he would soon be declared to be (Numbers 15:32-36; Hebrews 13:11-13), Jesus had to spend the night outside of the Temple, outside of the city limits of Jerusalem (Mark 11:11). Someone to whom God had charged the sins of the world (John 1:29) wasn’t fit to stay in the holy city much less the temple.

And that proves that this Jesus is the King we really need. This Jesus of shame and suffering, of bleeding and dying is the One who brings you back here Sunday after Sunday. What comfort, what help, what salvation could Jesus provide if he had only come to Jerusalem in majesty, only as the King of kings and Lord of lords? Yes, there would be glory, laud and honor for him – but what would there be for us? Only judgment. We don’t just need a mighty and majestic King – we need a sacrifice. We don’t just need a Good Shepherd – we need an unblemished Lamb (1 Peter 1:19). Actually, we need a scapegoat (Leviticus 16). We need God to heap our sins on Jesus (John 1:29). And he could only do that if Jesus was sinless. You can’t bear anyone else’s sins if you have your own to bear. You can’t answer for anyone else’s sins if you have to answer for your own.

The devil knew this and that’s why immediately after Jesus’ Baptism he pounced on him in the wilderness (Matthew 4:1-11). If somehow, someway the devil had been able to make Jesus sin just once in thought, word or action – then he could no longer be our Savior. But the devil failed, Jesus didn’t sin – and now he comes here to Jerusalem as the sinless Lamb of God who will take away the sins of the world and appease God’s wrath against sinners like us (1 John 2:2). He comes to Jerusalem as the answer to sin, as the one who will put death to death (1 Corinthians 15:54-55), as the one who will silence Satan’s accusations once and for all (Revelation 12:10). You can see why sin, death, and the devil can’t wait to get a clear shot at him, can’t you?

Of course, we know that, in the end, Jesus will defeat this unholy trinity – but do you see the comfort there for us in how Jesus wins? He doesn’t win by his majestic entrance; he doesn’t win by the acclamation of the crowds; he doesn’t win by being crowned at the Temple. Jesus doesn’t win by being any of the things that crowd that day and the world today looks for in a King: power, fame, wealth, glory. And Jesus doesn’t win apart from suffering, hardship and affliction. Instead, Jesus overcomes sin, death and the devil by means of suffering, hardship, and affliction.

Do you know what that means for us? It means that suffering, hardship and affliction are not out of place in our lives. If Jesus had conquered by being beyond suffering, by being accepted by the crowds, by being above hardship – he would be majestic and, likely, popular today, but he wouldn’t be any comfort to we who are suffering, who are rejected and persecuted, who endure hardship and sadness. If Jesus had only entered Jerusalem with majesty, he would only appeal to the precious few who experience majesty in this world.

Do you know anyone like that? Is that what you see when you look in the mirror? More importantly, have you known anyone who looked majestic as they’re lying in a casket? Jesus had every right to claim majesty for himself – but then he would have been worthless to us; because the Bible is clear that none of us are majestic, rich or famous enough to impress God, our judge (Romans 3:10-18; 2 Corinthians 5:10). We are real people. Real sinful people. Real, sinful people need a Jesus who comes in lowliness and humility to do what we cannot do: to defeat sin, death and the devil by paying for our sins, by dying our death and by enduring hell in our place.

And that is why we continue to let Palm Sunday stand in its own right and don’t try to cram all of Holy Week into one hour. (It’s not only because we are confident that confessional Lutherans are eager and happy to return to church on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday to listen as Jesus completes their salvation.) No, it’s because Palm Sunday gives us reason to rejoice in its own right. There is a very good reason for us to sing loudly, to wave our palm branches, to walk out of here singing, not weeping – because Palm Sunday reveals Jesus as a King, yes; but a majestically humble King – a King who comes to die for common, run-of-the-mill sinners like us.

This day is a day of paradox. Yes, there’s majesty. There’s the rightful recognition that Jesus is Lord. There’s the praise due to him as Savior. Jesus stands in his rightful place in the Temple today. So we properly sing “all glory, laud, and honor” to him. But there’s something else in the air on Palm Sunday. There’s a hint of suffering, sacrifice and death. There’s a theme of humility mingled in the majesty. And it’s not the majesty but the humility of Jesus on Palm Sunday that speaks to us; because the suffering, the sacrifice and the death that hangs in the air on Palm Sunday promises the smell of Easter lilies. And that’s where we find the glory in this Palm Sunday Paradox. Amen.