Matthew 21:1-10
1 As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, 2 saying to them, “Go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her. Untie them and bring them to me. 3 If anyone says anything to you, say that the Lord needs them, and he will send them right away.”
4 This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet:
5 “Say to Daughter Zion,
‘See, your king comes to you,
gentle and riding on a donkey,
and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’”6 The disciples went and did as Jesus had instructed them. 7 They brought the donkey and the colt and placed their cloaks on them for Jesus to sit on. 8 A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9 The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted,
“Hosanna to the Son of David!”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
10 When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked, “Who is this?”
11 The crowds answered, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”
Our Humble King Is a Palm Sunday Pot Stirrer
The last time that Jesus was called a king, the city of Jerusalem was shaken too. Herod had ordered that all the baby boys in Bethlehem be massacred, i.e. murdered, because he was jealous. “Wise men” from the East had come seeking to worship the newborn “King of the Jews,” but Herod couldn’t abide a rival, and had it not been for divine intervention – had God not sent an angel to warn Joseph to flee to Egypt – Herod would have succeeded. Jesus would have been murdered.
The words of our Gospel for today are the first time in more than 30 years that the word “king” is applied to Jesus again. And again, the city was shaken. And again, a murderous plot immediately arose. Only this time there would be no such divine intervention to save him. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Matthew begins chapter 21 saying, They approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives.[1] Now this is more than set dressing; it’s significant. We didn’t read this last week, but after Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, John tells us this: Then the chief priests and the Pharisees called a meeting of the Sanhedrin… “Here is this man performing many signs. If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and then the Romans will come and take away both our temple and our nation.”[2] The Jewish leaders didn’t appreciate what Jesus was doing. They viewed it as an existential threat not only to their leadership, but to their entire way of life – and not just the chief priests and the Pharisees, but every Jew in Judea. If Jesus was left unchecked, the Romans might come in and mow them all down.
So from that day on they plotted to take his life. Therefore Jesus no longer moved about publicly among the people of Judea. Instead he withdrew to a region near the wilderness.[3]
Jesus was aware of the impact he had, not only positively on the people who witnessed his miracles and believed in him, but also negatively on the Jewish leaders who were looking for any way to end him. And here he is now on the Mount of Olives looking out over Jerusalem from the other side of the Kidron Valley. He’s a heartbeat away from putting himself directly into harm’s way.
So, why now? What impulse could override his survival instinct? From an earthly point of view, it was the celebration of the Passover. The Passover was one of the big three festivals that took place in Jerusalem every year, and as a conscientious, law-abiding Jew, Jesus was a regular there; he had been since he was a boy.
From a spiritual point of view, though, we know there were other factors at play, which is why Jesus enters into Jerusalem a little bit different way this time. Matthew tells us about the donkey and her colt. Most pilgrims would journey to Jerusalem in the exact opposite way. They would ride their donkey from Galilee or Perea and then park it in a village like Bethany or Bethphage so that they could walk into the big city unencumbered by livestock. But not Jesus. He walked all the way from Galilee and then rented a mule for the last mile.
It wasn’t that Jesus was tired. Matthew tells us, This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet: “Say to Daughter Zion, ‘See, your king comes to you, gentle and riding on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’”[4] While every other pilgrim was walking into the city, Jesus stood out from the crowd by sitting down on a donkey 1) to fulfill prophecy, 2) whose emphasis is on gentleness, so that he could 3) stir up the hornets’ nest.
Jesus cared about prophecy. That was his whole purpose for coming into this world. It wasn’t to accrue popularity or praise. It was to do his Father’s work – the work that God had been promising for centuries – even if that work required him to put himself in harm’s way, which he was willing to do out of obedience to his Father and out of love for you.
And the people respond appropriately. The disciples get things started by placing their cloaks on the donkeys for Jesus to sit on. The crowd follows suit by laying their cloaks – and branches that they cut from nearby trees – down on the road as a makeshift red carpet for their king. They’re chanting and singing his praises. Things couldn’t be going better for Jesus’ triumphal return to Jerusalem.
But then “the city” asks a simple question, “Who is this?”[5] And the crowds ruin everything by opening their mouths one more time, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”[6]
“The prophet.” On the one hand, you can’t blame them. This is the same conclusion that so many came to. We’ve seen it throughout the season of Lent. When people see Jesus, they have to admit that there’s something different about him, i.e. something special. Nicodemus saw it. The woman at the well. The blind man. But if that’s all Jesus was, then this parade means nothing. Then Jesus’ death at the end of the week adds up to little more than George Floyd’s death or Charlie Kirk’s – just another guy among many others in history who didn’t deserve to die.
But Jesus is far more than just another guy. He’s far more than a prophet or even a martyr, even if we don’t always see him that way. It’s easy to pick on those Passover pilgrims. It’d even be easy for us to admit that if we had been there that day, if we had the same information they had, we probably would have said the same thing they did. But that’s the thing, we have more information than they did, and we still make this same mistake.
It’s easy enough to praise Jesus’ name when things are going well (if you remember to). We’re not as quick to give him the clothes off our backs on days that look to us like Good Friday did to the disciples, e.g. when Christianity appears to be losing ground in society; when adversity is a constant reality in life; when the devil seems to be winning the war for my soul. We’re not as quick to throw parades for Jesus on those kinds of days. And that reveals the faulty expectations we have for Jesus.
“Hosanna” literally means “Save us.” But the question is, save us from what? The Passover pilgrims were almost certainly thinking about Roman oppression or even internal Jewish political corruption. We might be thinking of similar things when we ask Jesus to save us today, e.g. from corrupt politics, hostile living conditions, threats to our desired lifestyle and even threats to life itself. But “Hosanna” means so much more than that.
“Hosanna” means that your King comes to you – not to rule an earthly kingdom, but to usher your soul into his heavenly kingdom; not to command an army for world domination, but to invite you to become part of his family by faith in his Son; not to demand anything from you but to give everything for you and to you.
Jesus willingly stood on that hill outside of Jerusalem and was deliberately determined to stir up trouble for himself so that by laying down his life by the end of that week he could save your soul for eternity. He came in the name of the Lord to accomplish his mission of salvation, i.e. to save you from sin and death and the power of the devil.
Jesus could have cruised into Jerusalem on the clouds with an army of angels behind him, but he chose a colt, the foal of a donkey with fickle fishermen and perplexed pilgrims shouting praises they didn’t understand. And it wasn’t because he didn’t know any better. He knew full well what he was doing. He just did it anyway, so that the events of this Holy Week could give you reason to sing his praises in the good times and the bad, today and in eternity because your humble King came for you.
You know more than those Passover pilgrims did. You know the kind of King Jesus came to be. So, even though you did the same thing they did – walking in here, waving palm branches, spreading them out before him – you can do more than just give him the clothes off your back and the momentary praise of Palm Sunday. You can give him your heart every day. You can mean it when you pray and sing “Hosanna.” You can confess the sins he came to die for, and then call him blessed for coming in the name of the Lord to wash them away, knowing full well what it would cost him.
That’s the kind of King you have – a gentle and humble one, who didn’t put his own interests above yours, but sacrificed himself to save you. Rejoice greatly. Shout and sing: Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven! Amen.
[1] Matthew 21:1
[2] John 11:47,48
[3] John 11:53,54
[4] Matthew 21:4,5
[5] Matthew 21:10
[6] Matthew 21:11